Its been floating in my brain pan for a minute.
So heres the idea. Ship SI. Kantai specifically...
So heres the idea. Ship SI. Kantai specifically...
Cold War Babysub (Kantai SI, Other) And Fleet
- Thread starter Lordhighalnder
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1: Existence
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Its been floating in my brain pan for a minute.
So heres the idea. Ship SI. Kantai specifically. Only, the rest of the universe isn't the same as the Kantai verse. So occasionally ill ask for a little help devising a twist.
So, if you have ideas, throw them out there, and we will see where this journey takes us.
------------
Chapter 1, A cosmic shrimp with a really big gun
I think the last thing I ever expected was a berserk roommate. I was a retired marine, he was former army with a medical discharge. He never saw combat, was a medic on some base, and a general alcohalic. Then one day, I was making oatmeal and cream of wheat, turned to get something out of the fridge, and found a knife buried in my chest. Old reflexes kicked in, and well, needless to say it wasn't just me going out.
Honestly I have no idea why he did it, I guess making him clean the cat crap in the bathroom was a step to far?
Ultimately, its not how I expected to go, but its not the worst way to find yourself waking up to the sounds of sea foam and...
Wait.
I prayed to more gods than Poiseden, and was oathsworn. His domain was the last place I expected to end up, having died more than a hundred miles from the sea.
The sun was warm, the taste of salt was in the air, and sea waves crashed. Not quite dead then, which is odd as, though im no doctor, a knife to the chest is kind of a final result.
I cracked my eyes open, and saw a towering palm tree. If a culture of giants had planted them across the world, or someone had crossbred them to the redwoods, it would make sense from my perspective. Truly they scraped the sky!
The sand was warm on my back, a hint of wet that spread the suns heat. My toes were tasted by a small cool wave, and the sun was shining.
I relaxed, maintiaining the illusion that this was my afterlife for a just a bit before it inevitably went to shit, as my life was known to do.
After an hour or so I got up, sighing. Looking around, the bog standard island, goregous as it was, was the only greeting my eyes did see. Still, it was a nice enough view, and as far as afterlifes went, may not be the worst thing ever. Everything was comically large in comparison though, which was a bit odd until I had a look at my reflection in the water.
Apparantly I was much shorter than I had been in life. Kid sized, with a few parts missing. Also the commically oversized torpedo launcher on my shoulder had made itself known.
Six year old kid, with a torpedo launcher that was as tall as me and looked like an old stinger manpad. Well, I knew what my afterlife was now, which was worrysome. I was a Marine, a rough and ready... radar guy.
Well, lets fire up the old...
No Radar. Fuck.
Come to think of it, why was reaching for radar my first thought there... Makes no sense. None of this makes much sense, but im sure ill live.
Hopefully.
I guess its time to figure out where I am, maybe get a chart or two, figure a path to the mainland, or if the island is bigger than I expected.
Cpl... Wait, does death release me from my service? Huh. Something to check on later.
Cpl... Mackerel, signing off.
en.wikipedia.org
en.wikipedia.org
en.wikipedia.org
en.wikipedia.org
en.wikipedia.org
So heres the idea. Ship SI. Kantai specifically. Only, the rest of the universe isn't the same as the Kantai verse. So occasionally ill ask for a little help devising a twist.
So, if you have ideas, throw them out there, and we will see where this journey takes us.
Chapter 1, A cosmic shrimp with a really big gun
I think the last thing I ever expected was a berserk roommate. I was a retired marine, he was former army with a medical discharge. He never saw combat, was a medic on some base, and a general alcohalic. Then one day, I was making oatmeal and cream of wheat, turned to get something out of the fridge, and found a knife buried in my chest. Old reflexes kicked in, and well, needless to say it wasn't just me going out.
Honestly I have no idea why he did it, I guess making him clean the cat crap in the bathroom was a step to far?
Ultimately, its not how I expected to go, but its not the worst way to find yourself waking up to the sounds of sea foam and...
Wait.
I prayed to more gods than Poiseden, and was oathsworn. His domain was the last place I expected to end up, having died more than a hundred miles from the sea.
The sun was warm, the taste of salt was in the air, and sea waves crashed. Not quite dead then, which is odd as, though im no doctor, a knife to the chest is kind of a final result.
I cracked my eyes open, and saw a towering palm tree. If a culture of giants had planted them across the world, or someone had crossbred them to the redwoods, it would make sense from my perspective. Truly they scraped the sky!
The sand was warm on my back, a hint of wet that spread the suns heat. My toes were tasted by a small cool wave, and the sun was shining.
I relaxed, maintiaining the illusion that this was my afterlife for a just a bit before it inevitably went to shit, as my life was known to do.
After an hour or so I got up, sighing. Looking around, the bog standard island, goregous as it was, was the only greeting my eyes did see. Still, it was a nice enough view, and as far as afterlifes went, may not be the worst thing ever. Everything was comically large in comparison though, which was a bit odd until I had a look at my reflection in the water.
Apparantly I was much shorter than I had been in life. Kid sized, with a few parts missing. Also the commically oversized torpedo launcher on my shoulder had made itself known.
Six year old kid, with a torpedo launcher that was as tall as me and looked like an old stinger manpad. Well, I knew what my afterlife was now, which was worrysome. I was a Marine, a rough and ready... radar guy.
Well, lets fire up the old...
No Radar. Fuck.
Come to think of it, why was reaching for radar my first thought there... Makes no sense. None of this makes much sense, but im sure ill live.
Hopefully.
I guess its time to figure out where I am, maybe get a chart or two, figure a path to the mainland, or if the island is bigger than I expected.
Cpl... Wait, does death release me from my service? Huh. Something to check on later.
Cpl... Mackerel, signing off.
Spanish ship Rayo (1749) - Wikipedia
French ship Aigle (1800) - Wikipedia
French ship Indomptable (1790) - Wikipedia
German submarine U-488 - Wikipedia
HMS Avenger (D14) - Wikipedia
To the depths we arise, to the depths we shall return.
Yo ho yo ho a pirates life for me
Why don't you come down here and fight like a sailor
Everyone always sticks to the plan, thats why you plan to stick it to em
Admiral, respectfully, im retired so you can shove it where the sun don't shine, sir.
Huh, that was... Way cooler than I thought it would be.
Yo ho yo ho a pirates life for me
Why don't you come down here and fight like a sailor
Everyone always sticks to the plan, thats why you plan to stick it to em
Admiral, respectfully, im retired so you can shove it where the sun don't shine, sir.
Huh, that was... Way cooler than I thought it would be.
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2: Radio
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Ship log entry 2: Date unknown.
So, empty island. Not a soul to make a peep, but there are a couple of dogs. No corgis sadly, as I would love to have a few PT boats to work with... Corgis are PT boats? Huh. Mysterious knowledge in my brain yay!
So, what do we have to work with? Any boats of any kind appear to have been burnt to cinders, aside from this old looking pirate ship that had been refurbished and turned into a kids park, completely worthless for sailing, but it makes a good base for now. I'm some kind of ship, which is an odd enough concept. I'm about three and a half feet tall, which makes me a freaking tiny ass boat.
Flatchested as all fuck, with weak arms, weak legs, and a 21-inch torpedo tube that dwarfed me something fierce. 4 shots before my load would be spent, and one in the chamber for good luck I guess. Also what looked like 3 dummy rounds, complete with paint warheads.
None of the torpedoes were ones I recognized, they uh, were stamped with a 33, made out of an aluminum alloy, and as far as I could tell, could hit between just under two and a half nautical miles, and around nine, depending on if they were slow or fast fired.
It wasn't even hard to pull the information, as apparently I had a ship's log. Most of the entries were fuzzy, but some had been clearing up as I practiced slow loading, fast loading, unloading, dry fire, and dummy fire. I fired off two of the dummy rounds, getting as good a grasp on range as I could. Turns out, im pretty damn accurate with the things, at least as far as shooting at non-moving targets at relatively close range.
I'm happy with the torps, sad that I've got only one other real weapons to account for, and a pretty kickass swimsuit whenever I need it.
Yeah, so apparently I can store my torp tube in hammer space, and in there is a nice and sexy black scuba suit, complete with this odd black matting on the air tanks. Ive never been one to scuba dive, but I recognized them as being old as dirt, the kind the navy seals train on before they ever become seals. Functional, but id like to get something more modern. Still, I could use these just fine, and had gotten a small snack to show for it. A couple of oysters, and a crab that had wandered too close. I had to search some of the houses to find stuff to cook with, but it was well worth it, though the lack of butter was... Disappointing.
So anyway, scuba suit. Yeah, it was awesome, though a mix of deep-sea diving equipment and the standard scuba gear, which looked odd but hey. Long as it works, we've got no problems.
Oh, and I've got this cool little arm that pops out, and a couple of cool little go pros mounted to the suit, and some roller skates on my fins, which is weird, but cool.
Aside from the suit and torp tubes, I've got a few uniforms in hammer space. My old dress blues decided they didn't want to be left behind, stiff collar and all. They appeared on me when I wanted, which was nice as I didn't have to fight buttons and such. I had naval overalls, and the more modern blueberries which actually made some amount of sense to me, if I was some kind of sub, though instead of the leather black shoes I had a nice set of Danners in tan. The black leathers were on the navy overalls, so I was some kind of mishmash between myself and well, me. Oddly enough I had my old service rifle, though no rounds for the basic M16. Nice, and ill take it, even if it made no real sense.
Anyway, the world around me was barren of people, the world had started to reclaim the township that was on the island, which already had the hallmarks of an isolated rock in the middle of nowhere. Cars long since out of production, computers older than dirt, not a cell phone among the bodies to be found.
Yeah, bodies. Multiple, mostly skeletal. Not a pleasant sight, but I've seen worse.
Done worse even.
Nothing really worth a date, though I found a Nokia I had hopes for. She had a nice pink shell and a Pikachu hanging off the cord, so cute! No power though.
Beyond that, there was a tool shed for what appeared to be the island mechanic, half of which was a crater, the other which was a display of thrown tools. Nothing too fancy, aside from an old Honda generator which turned over after I siphoned some diesel off a half a jeep.
I had moved that into the little pirate ship, and what tools I could scavenge. I had this grandiose Idea that I could rig up a radio, and using a few techniques I knew, bounce the signal long enough to reach NORAD, who should have no problem decrypting the SOS.
Skywaves are cool, as they let you reach from California to New Zealand without abusing much in the way of power. It will take a bit of math, but it shouldn't be too hard.
I'm guessing that the powers that be expected me to jump right into things. Probably shouldn't have grabbed a Marine who was a... Radio guy. Marines will do anything to accomplish the mission, so abusing some physics is well within what I'm aiming to do.
Anyway, that's the plan for the moment, get a radio running, bounce a signal to anyone in the USA who can read it, and get off the damn island.
Cpl Mackerel, supreme overlord of a small pirate ship in a playground, signing off.
So, empty island. Not a soul to make a peep, but there are a couple of dogs. No corgis sadly, as I would love to have a few PT boats to work with... Corgis are PT boats? Huh. Mysterious knowledge in my brain yay!
So, what do we have to work with? Any boats of any kind appear to have been burnt to cinders, aside from this old looking pirate ship that had been refurbished and turned into a kids park, completely worthless for sailing, but it makes a good base for now. I'm some kind of ship, which is an odd enough concept. I'm about three and a half feet tall, which makes me a freaking tiny ass boat.
Flatchested as all fuck, with weak arms, weak legs, and a 21-inch torpedo tube that dwarfed me something fierce. 4 shots before my load would be spent, and one in the chamber for good luck I guess. Also what looked like 3 dummy rounds, complete with paint warheads.
None of the torpedoes were ones I recognized, they uh, were stamped with a 33, made out of an aluminum alloy, and as far as I could tell, could hit between just under two and a half nautical miles, and around nine, depending on if they were slow or fast fired.
It wasn't even hard to pull the information, as apparently I had a ship's log. Most of the entries were fuzzy, but some had been clearing up as I practiced slow loading, fast loading, unloading, dry fire, and dummy fire. I fired off two of the dummy rounds, getting as good a grasp on range as I could. Turns out, im pretty damn accurate with the things, at least as far as shooting at non-moving targets at relatively close range.
I'm happy with the torps, sad that I've got only one other real weapons to account for, and a pretty kickass swimsuit whenever I need it.
Yeah, so apparently I can store my torp tube in hammer space, and in there is a nice and sexy black scuba suit, complete with this odd black matting on the air tanks. Ive never been one to scuba dive, but I recognized them as being old as dirt, the kind the navy seals train on before they ever become seals. Functional, but id like to get something more modern. Still, I could use these just fine, and had gotten a small snack to show for it. A couple of oysters, and a crab that had wandered too close. I had to search some of the houses to find stuff to cook with, but it was well worth it, though the lack of butter was... Disappointing.
So anyway, scuba suit. Yeah, it was awesome, though a mix of deep-sea diving equipment and the standard scuba gear, which looked odd but hey. Long as it works, we've got no problems.
Oh, and I've got this cool little arm that pops out, and a couple of cool little go pros mounted to the suit, and some roller skates on my fins, which is weird, but cool.
Aside from the suit and torp tubes, I've got a few uniforms in hammer space. My old dress blues decided they didn't want to be left behind, stiff collar and all. They appeared on me when I wanted, which was nice as I didn't have to fight buttons and such. I had naval overalls, and the more modern blueberries which actually made some amount of sense to me, if I was some kind of sub, though instead of the leather black shoes I had a nice set of Danners in tan. The black leathers were on the navy overalls, so I was some kind of mishmash between myself and well, me. Oddly enough I had my old service rifle, though no rounds for the basic M16. Nice, and ill take it, even if it made no real sense.
Anyway, the world around me was barren of people, the world had started to reclaim the township that was on the island, which already had the hallmarks of an isolated rock in the middle of nowhere. Cars long since out of production, computers older than dirt, not a cell phone among the bodies to be found.
Yeah, bodies. Multiple, mostly skeletal. Not a pleasant sight, but I've seen worse.
Done worse even.
Nothing really worth a date, though I found a Nokia I had hopes for. She had a nice pink shell and a Pikachu hanging off the cord, so cute! No power though.
Beyond that, there was a tool shed for what appeared to be the island mechanic, half of which was a crater, the other which was a display of thrown tools. Nothing too fancy, aside from an old Honda generator which turned over after I siphoned some diesel off a half a jeep.
I had moved that into the little pirate ship, and what tools I could scavenge. I had this grandiose Idea that I could rig up a radio, and using a few techniques I knew, bounce the signal long enough to reach NORAD, who should have no problem decrypting the SOS.
Skywaves are cool, as they let you reach from California to New Zealand without abusing much in the way of power. It will take a bit of math, but it shouldn't be too hard.
I'm guessing that the powers that be expected me to jump right into things. Probably shouldn't have grabbed a Marine who was a... Radio guy. Marines will do anything to accomplish the mission, so abusing some physics is well within what I'm aiming to do.
Anyway, that's the plan for the moment, get a radio running, bounce a signal to anyone in the USA who can read it, and get off the damn island.
Cpl Mackerel, supreme overlord of a small pirate ship in a playground, signing off.
Last edited:
Ryven Razgriz
I need a Gun and I'll let you know 'What's up?'.
- Location
- South East Asia
Noice! I'll be following Ms. Tuna.
EDIT: Light and Fluffier Kantai Collection, except you're somehow a badass.
EDIT: Light and Fluffier Kantai Collection, except you're somehow a badass.
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Interesting. I'll certainly be keeping an eye on this.
3: Buzz
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Ships Log Entry 3: Date Unknown
I've been doing some training with my scuba gear, touch and goes as far down as I can, each time ranging further and further. It appears I haven't reached my crush depth, but I've mostly been diving in the shallows. So far my depth is past a hundred feet, but I'm cautious to go further. Still, crawling across the floor is cool, and the crabs along the floor were some of the cutest little crustacean. I think I taught a few to play fetch!
I was somewhat afraid of going active sonar, thus crawling along the bottom and using my cameras to map the terrain rather than yelling my position to any passing ships. I had some amazing pictures of a crab with a top hat that had fallen to the depths, now if I could only find a monocle…
Work on the radio was proceeding, I had stripped some copper wires from one of the buildings, what looked to be an old police shack. The bars served to help me build a Yagi, which would serve excellently as a receiver when I got a radio working. I may have to just strip and re-purpose a car radio, in order to get the necessary components. Back burner material, as something had come up.
So seagulls are the worst thing ever, they fly and steal, like little pirates of the sky. Not magpie theft, which is more like a cat burglar, those bastards are thugs. Little assholes.
But what I was seeing wasn't any kind of gull I was familiar with, the wings too stubby, the odd buzz sound they made, and the general feeling of wrongness. It puzzled me, as they shouldn't exist. There was no reason for it, so much so that it felt like an affront to everything that could be considered natural.
Something instinctively told me I didn't want its attention, so after a few minutes of it lazily circling around the island, I fell back to my pirate ship, and buttoned down.
Hopefully they didn't notice me, and hadn't been there long.
Hopefully.
Cpl Mackerel, signing off for now…
I've been doing some training with my scuba gear, touch and goes as far down as I can, each time ranging further and further. It appears I haven't reached my crush depth, but I've mostly been diving in the shallows. So far my depth is past a hundred feet, but I'm cautious to go further. Still, crawling across the floor is cool, and the crabs along the floor were some of the cutest little crustacean. I think I taught a few to play fetch!
I was somewhat afraid of going active sonar, thus crawling along the bottom and using my cameras to map the terrain rather than yelling my position to any passing ships. I had some amazing pictures of a crab with a top hat that had fallen to the depths, now if I could only find a monocle…
Work on the radio was proceeding, I had stripped some copper wires from one of the buildings, what looked to be an old police shack. The bars served to help me build a Yagi, which would serve excellently as a receiver when I got a radio working. I may have to just strip and re-purpose a car radio, in order to get the necessary components. Back burner material, as something had come up.
So seagulls are the worst thing ever, they fly and steal, like little pirates of the sky. Not magpie theft, which is more like a cat burglar, those bastards are thugs. Little assholes.
But what I was seeing wasn't any kind of gull I was familiar with, the wings too stubby, the odd buzz sound they made, and the general feeling of wrongness. It puzzled me, as they shouldn't exist. There was no reason for it, so much so that it felt like an affront to everything that could be considered natural.
Something instinctively told me I didn't want its attention, so after a few minutes of it lazily circling around the island, I fell back to my pirate ship, and buttoned down.
Hopefully they didn't notice me, and hadn't been there long.
Hopefully.
Cpl Mackerel, signing off for now…
4: Oh crapper jacks
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Ships Log Entry 3 and half: Date Unknown
NOT A BIRD, IT WAS NOT A BIRD!
Freaking ass spotter planes, my only warning? The beach that exploded twenty feet outboard from the former pirate ship. All I heard was a huge boom, and got thrown off the salvaged car seat which was in front of my makeshift workbench. My soldering iron flew out of my hand, though I was too busy with the follow on explosions to notice it had lit my little cot on fire.
I liked that cot, it was pink, and had unicorns on it.
Well, I liked my nice quiet home away from home too.
Assholes and their artillery.
My pirate ship suffered the anger of someone with a big gun, and I'm guessing its only due to my newfound durability that I was able to break out of the shredded timber.
In the sky? Five more of the buzzing assholes that must be calling fire on my position, the fuckers.
3-foot-tall me began to run for the water, only to receive a lazy tracking of artillery. The fuckers weren't even trying to hit me, just follow along with me like I was some kind of target practice!
When I got to the beach I think they expected me to run along it, not dive straight for the water as the shots had started to bracket me. It was also the first look I had of my attackers. Cruel hearted bitch staring me down, fricken SS with their go fuck yourself attitude. She looked like someone crossed a party member and a battleship, splitting it midship and laying it on either side with a steam punk hitler tech contraption holding the bits, with barrels on barrels pointing towards me.
Ive run directly at someone shooting me before, it's a great way to throw off their aim. Ive only done it against someone with a single gun before, and this asshole had several double barrel cannons pointing towards me like I had personally pissed off a firing squad of artillery men.
Fuck em. My MANPAD popped onto my shoulder, well, not so much as a MANPAD as MANPASD, but that doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well.
I was right on the water's edge, she was in my sights, and I wasn't slowing down unless my own personal Jesus Christ walked across the water and told me no with some very harsh language, and even then, I would probably ignore the messiah.
First fish fired in anger, the bitch's eyes widening as it raced out, while I slipped under the waves. Her gun fire was ineffective, as I had slipped under, and she would need to start dropping depth charges if she wanted to out me. Only problem, I was in the shallows, and she couldn't go that far…
That's when I heard it. Passive sonar, eight destroyers, a pair of cruisers, and miss mighty fucking battleship and her carrier bitch. A whole motherfucking fleet, and their auxiliary ships ready to ruin my day.
I didn't have enough torps for this, my engines could only go a leisurely ten knots, and they knew right where I was.
I really don't think the situation could have gotten much worse.
Cpl Mackerel, signing off.
------
Notes:
Not sure how well I can do Cute, and slife of life tends to bore me if its not mixed in with a whole bunch of other stuff. It really just feels like filler, but its probabbly a bit more necessary, so ill aim to write a bit more of it than I normally would.
If allyall see any issues, let me know.
I think I might start with the kantai, the corgi's, and then start shifting into another verse, which might be a bit abrubt as is normal for various sci-fi interactions.
NOT A BIRD, IT WAS NOT A BIRD!
Freaking ass spotter planes, my only warning? The beach that exploded twenty feet outboard from the former pirate ship. All I heard was a huge boom, and got thrown off the salvaged car seat which was in front of my makeshift workbench. My soldering iron flew out of my hand, though I was too busy with the follow on explosions to notice it had lit my little cot on fire.
I liked that cot, it was pink, and had unicorns on it.
Well, I liked my nice quiet home away from home too.
Assholes and their artillery.
My pirate ship suffered the anger of someone with a big gun, and I'm guessing its only due to my newfound durability that I was able to break out of the shredded timber.
In the sky? Five more of the buzzing assholes that must be calling fire on my position, the fuckers.
3-foot-tall me began to run for the water, only to receive a lazy tracking of artillery. The fuckers weren't even trying to hit me, just follow along with me like I was some kind of target practice!
When I got to the beach I think they expected me to run along it, not dive straight for the water as the shots had started to bracket me. It was also the first look I had of my attackers. Cruel hearted bitch staring me down, fricken SS with their go fuck yourself attitude. She looked like someone crossed a party member and a battleship, splitting it midship and laying it on either side with a steam punk hitler tech contraption holding the bits, with barrels on barrels pointing towards me.
Ive run directly at someone shooting me before, it's a great way to throw off their aim. Ive only done it against someone with a single gun before, and this asshole had several double barrel cannons pointing towards me like I had personally pissed off a firing squad of artillery men.
Fuck em. My MANPAD popped onto my shoulder, well, not so much as a MANPAD as MANPASD, but that doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well.
I was right on the water's edge, she was in my sights, and I wasn't slowing down unless my own personal Jesus Christ walked across the water and told me no with some very harsh language, and even then, I would probably ignore the messiah.
First fish fired in anger, the bitch's eyes widening as it raced out, while I slipped under the waves. Her gun fire was ineffective, as I had slipped under, and she would need to start dropping depth charges if she wanted to out me. Only problem, I was in the shallows, and she couldn't go that far…
That's when I heard it. Passive sonar, eight destroyers, a pair of cruisers, and miss mighty fucking battleship and her carrier bitch. A whole motherfucking fleet, and their auxiliary ships ready to ruin my day.
I didn't have enough torps for this, my engines could only go a leisurely ten knots, and they knew right where I was.
I really don't think the situation could have gotten much worse.
Cpl Mackerel, signing off.
------
Notes:
Not sure how well I can do Cute, and slife of life tends to bore me if its not mixed in with a whole bunch of other stuff. It really just feels like filler, but its probabbly a bit more necessary, so ill aim to write a bit more of it than I normally would.
If allyall see any issues, let me know.
I think I might start with the kantai, the corgi's, and then start shifting into another verse, which might be a bit abrubt as is normal for various sci-fi interactions.
Last edited:
5: Sluething
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Ship Log Entry 4: Date Unknown
Bastards had active sonar. Part and parcel of operating in a fleet, but it presented troubles for me. Fortunately, I had had enough time to get a layout of the land, having spent the past few days both scavenging overland and foraging in the sea. There was a shipwreck, some civilian cargo hauler, that had a few pockets of air, and would fuzz up sonar and radar returns long enough for me to slip past the net they were bound to set up. I would do my best to make the run for it, make it seem like I was taking cover, run loud and fast, have to overtax my diesel engine in order to make the mad scramble. It was going to be a tight sprint though, as even at my best speed I wasn't the fastest vessel in the sea.
My rigging slid on smoothly, though for the moment it was my see bees rather than the squid suit. The water was warm, salty, and filled with the sounds of active pings and radar returns.
My single torpedo passed harmlessly by the fleet battleship, and I'm sure if I had a radio suite I could have heard her orders. Best I could figure, with the active sonar, they were going to let me run closer to the net, and then start lobbing depth charges at a leisurely pace. Even my fastest there was no outrunning them, and they probably knew it.
But even my time spent as a hard charging motivating… radio guy, I was a stealthy motherfracker when I wanted to be, and my favorite movie had been down periscope…
Contrary to every book written, I began active sonar, pinging every possible thing as fast as possible, hoping the sudden drop from active to passive would give me a precious few seconds to mix things up.
Unfortunately, none of my 33's had been decoys, so I was stuck without any of the tricks a normal sub could use. Fortunately, my crush depth, based off information in my logs, was dramatically deeper than other subs owing to the structural re-enforcements necessary to abuse the test equipment that had been mounted.
The destroyers were fanning out, forming a net I would be trapped in, even as they raced forward, closing tighter. I imagined the bloodthirsty grin on the battleships face as she ordered them forward, the dogboats like bulldogs out for blood. My blood boiled at the thought of being easy prey. Frack that, I was a hellspawned Marine, born and bred to wage war against the enemies of the U S of A, with grit in my veins and rage in my heart.
The destroyer I was racing towards would know my name, the first of my tributes to Poseidon.
I steadied my torpedo tube, flaring my propellers in front of me throwing a wash of noise as I lined up and fired a rapid speed torp. A single tuna spat from the front, its razors gleaming in the underwater light. Even as my fish shot forward, my suit shifted from hammer space, folding around me like a glove. My props shut completely, my active sonar silenced, my heartbeat stilled, and I slid silently next to the shipwreck, silent as a ghost.
My fish sped forward, hopefully pulling the eyes of the enemy fleet towards it and away from me.
Cpl Makerel, the slushiest of sleuths, signing off.
Bastards had active sonar. Part and parcel of operating in a fleet, but it presented troubles for me. Fortunately, I had had enough time to get a layout of the land, having spent the past few days both scavenging overland and foraging in the sea. There was a shipwreck, some civilian cargo hauler, that had a few pockets of air, and would fuzz up sonar and radar returns long enough for me to slip past the net they were bound to set up. I would do my best to make the run for it, make it seem like I was taking cover, run loud and fast, have to overtax my diesel engine in order to make the mad scramble. It was going to be a tight sprint though, as even at my best speed I wasn't the fastest vessel in the sea.
My rigging slid on smoothly, though for the moment it was my see bees rather than the squid suit. The water was warm, salty, and filled with the sounds of active pings and radar returns.
My single torpedo passed harmlessly by the fleet battleship, and I'm sure if I had a radio suite I could have heard her orders. Best I could figure, with the active sonar, they were going to let me run closer to the net, and then start lobbing depth charges at a leisurely pace. Even my fastest there was no outrunning them, and they probably knew it.
But even my time spent as a hard charging motivating… radio guy, I was a stealthy motherfracker when I wanted to be, and my favorite movie had been down periscope…
Contrary to every book written, I began active sonar, pinging every possible thing as fast as possible, hoping the sudden drop from active to passive would give me a precious few seconds to mix things up.
Unfortunately, none of my 33's had been decoys, so I was stuck without any of the tricks a normal sub could use. Fortunately, my crush depth, based off information in my logs, was dramatically deeper than other subs owing to the structural re-enforcements necessary to abuse the test equipment that had been mounted.
The destroyers were fanning out, forming a net I would be trapped in, even as they raced forward, closing tighter. I imagined the bloodthirsty grin on the battleships face as she ordered them forward, the dogboats like bulldogs out for blood. My blood boiled at the thought of being easy prey. Frack that, I was a hellspawned Marine, born and bred to wage war against the enemies of the U S of A, with grit in my veins and rage in my heart.
The destroyer I was racing towards would know my name, the first of my tributes to Poseidon.
I steadied my torpedo tube, flaring my propellers in front of me throwing a wash of noise as I lined up and fired a rapid speed torp. A single tuna spat from the front, its razors gleaming in the underwater light. Even as my fish shot forward, my suit shifted from hammer space, folding around me like a glove. My props shut completely, my active sonar silenced, my heartbeat stilled, and I slid silently next to the shipwreck, silent as a ghost.
My fish sped forward, hopefully pulling the eyes of the enemy fleet towards it and away from me.
Cpl Makerel, the slushiest of sleuths, signing off.
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- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Pesky authors loving their cliffhangers...
6: Depths
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Ships Log Entry 5: Date Unknown
My ruse seems to have worked. The destroyer in front of me ate the torp, and me dropping silent, meshing my already tiny siloute against a much larger vessel appears to have granted me a moment of respite. I figured they would start bombing the skeleton of the ship in front of me, even as I swapped from fins to heelies, and began inching across the ocean floor.
The thing about submarines, when they bottom, they cant move. Its risky, and without an accurate map of the floor, updating from sonar, they risk tearing their hull open. With my cameras, robotic arm, and wheels, I was sluethy, and mobile. Nobody bothers with visuals in the sea, the light doesn't travel far enough and windows are a structural weakness, so I was free to flare my lights. If IR worked better underwater my signature would balloon, but it was completely obscured by the active cooling of the ocean around me.
I had earned myself a few minutes of quite before the depth charges would start raining down, and my edffective speed was a half a knot. Not much, but it should be enough to put a bit of distance.
The destroyer that I had nicked was loud as pumps started up, letting me know they were taking on water and trying to do damage control. The inhuman screeching coming off the insides as damage control teams fought what sounded like a blaze, owing to the noises of sailors diving overboard in the hope of escaping the blazing fury in their floating metal island.
I grinned ferally, first blood to me, even as I pulled my way forward, the surface shrouding me against any sonar return, and my unsually small size allowing me to bounce between rocks like a tiny little ninja.
Mr crab with his tiny little top hat chittered angrily at me as I slipped past him, too cute for words, so I slid him into my arms, careful to keep his little claws away from anything important. I still needed to find a monacle for him, and with my plans to set up an SOS station nixed by the enemy fleet appearing out of nowhere, I figured it would be a bit before I had any real luck there.
Behind me I was buffeted by a shockwave as the first depth charge shredded the undersea freighter that had provided me concealment from the bastards above. It was not comforting, though my ruse had very obviously worked. The sonar pings rolling over me was comforting, as the second depth charge followed, meaning that they hadn't discovered where I crawled along the ocean floor.
Ideally it would stay that way, but for the moment I was holding my breath.
Literally.
Cpl Makerel, master of stealth and supreme ninja of the caribean, signing off.
My ruse seems to have worked. The destroyer in front of me ate the torp, and me dropping silent, meshing my already tiny siloute against a much larger vessel appears to have granted me a moment of respite. I figured they would start bombing the skeleton of the ship in front of me, even as I swapped from fins to heelies, and began inching across the ocean floor.
The thing about submarines, when they bottom, they cant move. Its risky, and without an accurate map of the floor, updating from sonar, they risk tearing their hull open. With my cameras, robotic arm, and wheels, I was sluethy, and mobile. Nobody bothers with visuals in the sea, the light doesn't travel far enough and windows are a structural weakness, so I was free to flare my lights. If IR worked better underwater my signature would balloon, but it was completely obscured by the active cooling of the ocean around me.
I had earned myself a few minutes of quite before the depth charges would start raining down, and my edffective speed was a half a knot. Not much, but it should be enough to put a bit of distance.
The destroyer that I had nicked was loud as pumps started up, letting me know they were taking on water and trying to do damage control. The inhuman screeching coming off the insides as damage control teams fought what sounded like a blaze, owing to the noises of sailors diving overboard in the hope of escaping the blazing fury in their floating metal island.
I grinned ferally, first blood to me, even as I pulled my way forward, the surface shrouding me against any sonar return, and my unsually small size allowing me to bounce between rocks like a tiny little ninja.
Mr crab with his tiny little top hat chittered angrily at me as I slipped past him, too cute for words, so I slid him into my arms, careful to keep his little claws away from anything important. I still needed to find a monacle for him, and with my plans to set up an SOS station nixed by the enemy fleet appearing out of nowhere, I figured it would be a bit before I had any real luck there.
Behind me I was buffeted by a shockwave as the first depth charge shredded the undersea freighter that had provided me concealment from the bastards above. It was not comforting, though my ruse had very obviously worked. The sonar pings rolling over me was comforting, as the second depth charge followed, meaning that they hadn't discovered where I crawled along the ocean floor.
Ideally it would stay that way, but for the moment I was holding my breath.
Literally.
Cpl Makerel, master of stealth and supreme ninja of the caribean, signing off.
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Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Pesky authors loving their cliffhangers...
All of what I have written at the moment was done up while I was at a competition to launch some rockets at spaceport america. Haven't gone over it to clean anything up as ive just gotten back, and haven't really had any commentary from readers in regards to anything beyond the fluffy world preference. Ideally ill write longer, more comprehensive blurbs than what ive got, but for the moment, the cliffhangers are there simply because I had to stop writing around that time for various rocket related reasons.
C4d
Has approximate knowledge of many things.
- Location
- Germany
I like Cpl Mackerel!
I hope she gets into friendly waters soon so she can be the best ninja sub on base, although i struggle to think of things she can do beyond resuming her duty as a training sub for other ships and maybe recon because there are probably few ships that can rival her stealth.
She just has to pray that she can avoid the more affectionate ships because at not even a meter in height she will be a prime cuddling target because even most destroyers would be able to effortlessly pick her up.
I hope she gets into friendly waters soon so she can be the best ninja sub on base, although i struggle to think of things she can do beyond resuming her duty as a training sub for other ships and maybe recon because there are probably few ships that can rival her stealth.
She just has to pray that she can avoid the more affectionate ships because at not even a meter in height she will be a prime cuddling target because even most destroyers would be able to effortlessly pick her up.
7: Relaxation
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Ships Log Entry 6: Date Unknown
My electrical charge was pretty good for ocean floor movement, giving me a couple of days of travel without having to run my engines to recharge. Half a knot over two days isn't far, especially with a search net overhead. After the first day of travel, the fleet seems to have decided I had been squashed amongst the debris, even without a confirmed kill against me. They seemed to have departed at a nominal pace, neither rushing nor being lazy. It irked me, but I didn't have to armament to handle that many ships at once.
I gave it a full day before I started drifting to the surface. Having travelled a rather short distance, just off the coast of the island, I was cautious. There could be a few planes above, and I had no real way to detect them while operating solo, beyond my human optics. I would need a bit to charge my batteries, swap the air in my tanks for something cleaner, and get my bearing. I didn't know quite where I was, but I had a general idea that as I head NNW I would eventually hit the land mass, while avoiding the major islands which were probably going to be patrolled by whatever the enemy was. Not Japanese, not Cuban, I really couldn't figure out why the Nazi's would float around the Caribbean.
The sun was shining as I breached, quickly setting everything to cycle and charge, eyes peeled for any disturbances. The air was fresh, the water warm, and I could relax for a moment.
Then I freaked. A little person was climbing out of my uniform, a small hatch off my shoulder. The little figure looked like a bobble head, but carried a fishing pole, and whistled a rather generic tune. I froze stiff, as they walked down my hull, and tossed the line into the water, sitting down against me. They casually looked at me, and waved, a little "Hey" bouncing from their oversized head.
So….
Adorable….
AHHHH!
The tiny person was just the most adorable little sailor ever, bobbing their head to some unheard tune as they lazily flicked the pole, sending a near invisible fishing lure into the wide ocean.
Over the 1mc the call went through, Divers over the side, Men in the sail. At those words, several tiny little sailors jumped out, and started swimming, while a few clambered around my hair with tiny little repair kits, and one with a little paint bucket and brush…
So adorable!
The sea horizon was perfectly clear, and I sat down on the surf, bobbing above the waves with my crew enjoying the break. A sigh escaped my lips as I began to relax, stretching my arms to the sky, and splaying my legs out in front, before flopping down against the sea, and just gazing skyward.
So far a good day. No real damage to whatever enemy came after me, but I escaped certain doom, especially for any other submarine that came before me.
I giggled. I was the stealthiest of subs that ever did float, and it was awesome.
Cpl Makerel, of the tiniest crew, signing off!
Edit:
AN: Really would like some feedback from al'yall, what imdoing wrong, etc. Ive got no real direction at the moment, so any help would be nice, even recommendations for fleets/villians.
My electrical charge was pretty good for ocean floor movement, giving me a couple of days of travel without having to run my engines to recharge. Half a knot over two days isn't far, especially with a search net overhead. After the first day of travel, the fleet seems to have decided I had been squashed amongst the debris, even without a confirmed kill against me. They seemed to have departed at a nominal pace, neither rushing nor being lazy. It irked me, but I didn't have to armament to handle that many ships at once.
I gave it a full day before I started drifting to the surface. Having travelled a rather short distance, just off the coast of the island, I was cautious. There could be a few planes above, and I had no real way to detect them while operating solo, beyond my human optics. I would need a bit to charge my batteries, swap the air in my tanks for something cleaner, and get my bearing. I didn't know quite where I was, but I had a general idea that as I head NNW I would eventually hit the land mass, while avoiding the major islands which were probably going to be patrolled by whatever the enemy was. Not Japanese, not Cuban, I really couldn't figure out why the Nazi's would float around the Caribbean.
The sun was shining as I breached, quickly setting everything to cycle and charge, eyes peeled for any disturbances. The air was fresh, the water warm, and I could relax for a moment.
Then I freaked. A little person was climbing out of my uniform, a small hatch off my shoulder. The little figure looked like a bobble head, but carried a fishing pole, and whistled a rather generic tune. I froze stiff, as they walked down my hull, and tossed the line into the water, sitting down against me. They casually looked at me, and waved, a little "Hey" bouncing from their oversized head.
So….
Adorable….
AHHHH!
The tiny person was just the most adorable little sailor ever, bobbing their head to some unheard tune as they lazily flicked the pole, sending a near invisible fishing lure into the wide ocean.
Over the 1mc the call went through, Divers over the side, Men in the sail. At those words, several tiny little sailors jumped out, and started swimming, while a few clambered around my hair with tiny little repair kits, and one with a little paint bucket and brush…
So adorable!
The sea horizon was perfectly clear, and I sat down on the surf, bobbing above the waves with my crew enjoying the break. A sigh escaped my lips as I began to relax, stretching my arms to the sky, and splaying my legs out in front, before flopping down against the sea, and just gazing skyward.
So far a good day. No real damage to whatever enemy came after me, but I escaped certain doom, especially for any other submarine that came before me.
I giggled. I was the stealthiest of subs that ever did float, and it was awesome.
Cpl Makerel, of the tiniest crew, signing off!
Edit:
AN: Really would like some feedback from al'yall, what imdoing wrong, etc. Ive got no real direction at the moment, so any help would be nice, even recommendations for fleets/villians.
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- Location
- Arizona
You just know that she's gonna get swarmed when she finds other kanmasu.
- Location
- Portland
Oh ya. she's less than four feet tall and will be seen as a kid trying to play soldier.
The expected sweetness is already making my teeth rot.
The expected sweetness is already making my teeth rot.
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Well, given that Cpl Mackerel is wandering somewhat aimlessly atm, your lack of direction in the writing is quite helpful in setting the tone. But you should probably get a goal soonish. Also, no real grammar or jarring spelling errors that I saw (except for the Mackerel in this last update), which is rare and a good sign.
8: Tank
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Shes the soul of a soldier and a ship, less than four feet tall. Shes going to be miffed at being treated like a kid, to at least some degree. As long as I can write well enough, it should be adorable.
Ive got an intial direction, as seen in this chapter. Im watching some source material to find a good, solid direction to take everything beyond just snagging plot points. Im probabbly going to sit down and plan everything out sometime next week once ive finished moving.
If they can find her in the first place, mwahahaha!
Standard torp from the 70's forward, within operational lifespan of the ship.
I think that will work as an upgrade, though ill have to figure it in exactly how to acquire it/build it, as none of the other vessels im intending on including are past ww2 at the moment.
Also, going to wipe the whole sparkly magical bullshit off the list in regards to target acquisition and interference in the EM spectrum.
Small, human sized objects with the mass, and armor, of a ship, and the radar return of a person sized object. Conventional arms dont do enough damage, nuclear weapons not designed to detonate on impact or as armor piercing will have little to no effect unless in super close proximity, conventional artillary doesn't have the precision needed to work with the same amount of kick unless its guided missiles, which doesn't counter abyssal submarines very well...
It doesn't need to be magical bullshit, there just needs to be halfway decent tactics on the abyssal side in order to prevent conventional forces from being effective.
Small, human sized objects with the mass, and armor, of a ship, and the radar return of a person sized object. Conventional arms dont do enough damage, nuclear weapons not designed to detonate on impact or as armor piercing will have little to no effect unless in super close proximity, conventional artillary doesn't have the precision needed to work with the same amount of kick unless its guided missiles, which doesn't counter abyssal submarines very well...
It doesn't need to be magical bullshit, there just needs to be halfway decent tactics on the abyssal side in order to prevent conventional forces from being effective.
Its been three days traveling slowly under the surface. No active sonar, just passive as I plumb the depths, pushing my way towards the coast of the US. While I had no charts, the matter was somewhat less concerning as I had the fixtures and devices to manually map the sea floor and moved slowly enough not to collide with any surprises. My faires began building a star chart, off memories long since past of equipment failures and training excercises. Stellar navigation was a skill that one of my captains had emphasized in case of equipment failure, or needing to run as silently as possible. We were able to figure a rough location, nowhere near as precise as GPS, but rough enough.
As it stands, I had another 500 Nautical Miles left to float through, infested with enemies as I passed by Haiti without stopping. Rather than head the thousand from Puerto Rico through deep water I felt passing through the shallows was the smarter decision, as I could touchdown when I started running low on supplies.
I would need to stop off in Cuba actually, as crew rations were starting to get a little low, and I was hoping to swap out some of the training munitions for whatever was in stock. Judging by the lack of ship traffic, both commercial and military, I was hazarding the enemy that had fired on me was something a bit more pervasive. I had a hypothesis, that the shores were bombed to shit, and anyone that survived was either inland, or surrounded by sea mines.
Then again, as I was in a human body, so to did the enemy appear to have a person-sized body. Speaking as someone with a solid background in terrestrial combat, if the whole ship thing translated to ground warfare, then humanity as a whole would be screwed.
Imagine a ship converted into a person. Inches of armor that bounces small arms weaponry like spitwads, a cross section with as much radar return as a stealth bomber. More guns than an artillery battery and faster than a team of seals. Without something comparable, and in large enough numbers able to cover the coast, humanity was well and truly screwed.
Maybe it was the isolation and the sea getting to me, but I was never an idiot, and hardly believed that I would be one right now.
Pumping my screws, I began treading through the depths towards Cuba, cigars on my mind, tequila in my heart, and the hope to tag a naval weapons depot in order to resupply with something a little more modern. Maybe grab a radar array from literally anywhere, give myself a set of ears that I was sorely lacking.
Another thirty miles to Cuba, which would be another three days of slow crawl. Playing it safe is slow as shit, but when you are deep in enemy territory, haste will kill you just as much as an enemy bullet.
Cpl Makerel, deep sea tank, signing off.
Last edited:
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Is this spelling deliberate?
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Nope!
Habit. Hard to break, and I was typing without the aid of auto correct. Everything gets corrected manualy, so im going to have to Cntl+h makeral every time...
Thanks for pointing it out!
Also, Grammerly is an amazing tool when fixing and editing mistakes.
C4d
Has approximate knowledge of many things.
- Location
- Germany
I hope she gets some cigars so that when she finally meets friendly forces she can pull out one and wear a pair of sunglasses to try and look more badass, however at her size it will probably only make her look more adorable.
Also does she look like a regular child of that size or more like someone older got scaled down? The first would probably be a bit weird for everyone while the second could be hilarious.
And it seems like you are going for first contact with US Navy forces, which as far as i know is a first since nearly every other story is set in the pacific with the Japanese, which i guess is because a lot of that setting and its characters is already pre established.
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Looks like a child. Same way all the other shipgirls are actually aged down appropriatly rather than miniturized.
And yes, with the ships personal history having her float around the caribean, it felt appropriate to head towards Florida for the meetup.
Also, for context between size and weapon...
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C4d
Has approximate knowledge of many things.
- Location
- Germany
Looks like a child. Same way all the other shipgirls are actually aged down appropriatly rather than miniturized.
And yes, with the ships personal history having her float around the caribean, it felt appropriate to head towards Florida for the meetup.
Also, for context between size and weapon...
Its certainly going to be interesting seeing the reactions of the various officials to her appearance.
9: AWACS
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
When you are alone, and theres nobody around, you have to have your tunes! So of course, as impulling out of the water, nary a soul in site, im whispering the stealth song.
Shifty eyes to the left, shifty eyes to the right, sneak sneak sneak, real slow like. Scan the horizons, watch your tail, slow slow slow, its the stealth song!
As far as I know, there is no actual song like that, but its what works for me.
The beach was empty, nothing but pockmarks and brush, in a part of Cuba with nothing to see. Everything looked... Pristine. Untouched by man, woman, or ship. It would be a fifty mile hike along the coast as the crow flies, or theraboutsin order to make it to guantanimo, where I fully expected to find a map, and some kind of US forces, even if they were just in hiding.
No signs of enemy forces, which is good. Solid ground beneath my feet, which is weird. My tiny little footprint is the only footprint for miles around. THe treeline completely void of any kind of sign of habitation.
I...
I hoped the rest of the world was a bit busier. If It was just me, the enemy, and a pristine Earth, I would probabbly have to make a vollybal. Not sure what I would call him. Wilson, supreme overlord of all that is?
Thats not too auspicious a title, right?
My Pink Nokia agreed, that was an excellent name.
------------
As I truged along the coast, keeping two handspan inside the treeline at all times, I noticed a distinct buzz. THis time I saw the enemy craft long before they saw me, and was able to put a tree between their roomba sized craft and my kindergarten sized submarine.
The craft sounded like a jet, which struck me as somewhat odd, for reasons I couldn't well Identify. When I peaked out, the little craft was high in the sky, some kind of AWACS? Big ol radar dish, and flying really low for some reason. Also trailing smoke, one of their engines looked to be fried, though without a closer look I couldn't begin to assess the extent of the damage.
Well, whoever they were, that meant there were friendlies around somewhere, especially if they were doing work against enemy radar. Bless them, the breather room was nice and I had no idea how I would show up on radar return.
Best thing for it, put a bit more distance between myself and the aircraft, fade into the jungle and just move... well, faster than in the water, but still.
50 miles to go, and I expected to be there, with respect to these minor interruptions, in two days. Forced march!
Cpl Makerel, In desperate need of comfy boots, Signing off!
Shifty eyes to the left, shifty eyes to the right, sneak sneak sneak, real slow like. Scan the horizons, watch your tail, slow slow slow, its the stealth song!
As far as I know, there is no actual song like that, but its what works for me.
The beach was empty, nothing but pockmarks and brush, in a part of Cuba with nothing to see. Everything looked... Pristine. Untouched by man, woman, or ship. It would be a fifty mile hike along the coast as the crow flies, or theraboutsin order to make it to guantanimo, where I fully expected to find a map, and some kind of US forces, even if they were just in hiding.
No signs of enemy forces, which is good. Solid ground beneath my feet, which is weird. My tiny little footprint is the only footprint for miles around. THe treeline completely void of any kind of sign of habitation.
I...
I hoped the rest of the world was a bit busier. If It was just me, the enemy, and a pristine Earth, I would probabbly have to make a vollybal. Not sure what I would call him. Wilson, supreme overlord of all that is?
Thats not too auspicious a title, right?
My Pink Nokia agreed, that was an excellent name.
------------
As I truged along the coast, keeping two handspan inside the treeline at all times, I noticed a distinct buzz. THis time I saw the enemy craft long before they saw me, and was able to put a tree between their roomba sized craft and my kindergarten sized submarine.
The craft sounded like a jet, which struck me as somewhat odd, for reasons I couldn't well Identify. When I peaked out, the little craft was high in the sky, some kind of AWACS? Big ol radar dish, and flying really low for some reason. Also trailing smoke, one of their engines looked to be fried, though without a closer look I couldn't begin to assess the extent of the damage.
Well, whoever they were, that meant there were friendlies around somewhere, especially if they were doing work against enemy radar. Bless them, the breather room was nice and I had no idea how I would show up on radar return.
Best thing for it, put a bit more distance between myself and the aircraft, fade into the jungle and just move... well, faster than in the water, but still.
50 miles to go, and I expected to be there, with respect to these minor interruptions, in two days. Forced march!
Cpl Makerel, In desperate need of comfy boots, Signing off!
Chapter 10: Hope? Ha. No.
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Cuba was as desolate as a land could be. The entire southwestern side I was on was firebombed to hell and back, like the jungle of Vietnam had been transplanted, napalmed, and sick upon by a division of pissed off marines. The only greenery was right between shore and the burnt down forests, seemingly a divide left in place to give the illusion of hope.
There was no hope. No food likely to be found either, which wasn't going to help my case. My little team of sailors Hey'd about sea rations, but without any sign off delicious goodies, we were SOL. The US base that would have been further along the coast may have been intact, but from what I was seeing, there was no hope for that. The AWAC's was probably flying recon from the mainland, shot-down by enemy forces rather than being based nearby as I had hoped.
I… I'm not going to lie. I cried, sat down on my tush and balled. There was no big sister to help me out, no SSgt screaming orders, no direction, and no souls. 40 miles from the nearest base and my mouth tasted like ash. There was just a whole load of nothing.
For a few hours I sat on that beach, staring at the ocean with some island tree at my back. The cruel ocean, uncaring of any hopes and dreams, just a force by which we lived or died.
Fuck it. I was a Cpl when I was alive, I understood small unit leadership. Make a decision, change the situation, and act. Never stop acting, because if you stop, you die.
Momma didn't raise no quitter.
I pulled my dress blue sleeves tight against my arms, swatted sand off the otherwise immaculate uniform, smoothed creases sharp enough to slice bread on my trousers, and began issuing orders.
My crew fishing what they could get off the coast in order to get enough food to fill my reserves, but they were going to be an issue in the long term as I had no proper resupply.
Didn't matter, I could find food on the way even if it meant I got more sashimi than I usually preferred. The Sea was rife with life, even in these enemy filled waters. Bastards couldn't destroy the entire ecosystem unless they wanted to starve to death too, and may have even helped preserve it without the human machine robbing the ocean of its treasure. Delicious delicious treasure. I don't think I could prepare eel with the tools on hand, though one of my crew may be able to whip something up.
Didn't matter. Supplies would be found. My only other issue was charts, but the way I figured, North and West was the US. East was Europe and Africa. Don't travel south or pure north and I would eventually hit land.
My little head nodded, my spine coming into realignment, and the tarnished and scratched cross that hung between my Blues jacket and my crisp white T-shirt, the one with a batman logo on it, felt warm as it nestled, hidden from sight.
I had a course, a plan, and a…
Fuck.
Aircraft
Cpl Makerel, Fuck you I have torpedo's, Signing. Off.
-------------
Authors Note:
Have a plan. It will probabbly be a bit before she meets any US forces, as Muse decieded to take a deciededly alternate approach to the US. Spoiler, Cpl Makerel may reach California.
Also, really tried to do the best lighthearted stuff I could. I dont think that way, so its more of a mix. Not grimderp, not light and fluffy. Aiming more for a nice juicy steak you can sink your teeth into.
There was no hope. No food likely to be found either, which wasn't going to help my case. My little team of sailors Hey'd about sea rations, but without any sign off delicious goodies, we were SOL. The US base that would have been further along the coast may have been intact, but from what I was seeing, there was no hope for that. The AWAC's was probably flying recon from the mainland, shot-down by enemy forces rather than being based nearby as I had hoped.
I… I'm not going to lie. I cried, sat down on my tush and balled. There was no big sister to help me out, no SSgt screaming orders, no direction, and no souls. 40 miles from the nearest base and my mouth tasted like ash. There was just a whole load of nothing.
For a few hours I sat on that beach, staring at the ocean with some island tree at my back. The cruel ocean, uncaring of any hopes and dreams, just a force by which we lived or died.
Fuck it. I was a Cpl when I was alive, I understood small unit leadership. Make a decision, change the situation, and act. Never stop acting, because if you stop, you die.
Momma didn't raise no quitter.
I pulled my dress blue sleeves tight against my arms, swatted sand off the otherwise immaculate uniform, smoothed creases sharp enough to slice bread on my trousers, and began issuing orders.
My crew fishing what they could get off the coast in order to get enough food to fill my reserves, but they were going to be an issue in the long term as I had no proper resupply.
Didn't matter, I could find food on the way even if it meant I got more sashimi than I usually preferred. The Sea was rife with life, even in these enemy filled waters. Bastards couldn't destroy the entire ecosystem unless they wanted to starve to death too, and may have even helped preserve it without the human machine robbing the ocean of its treasure. Delicious delicious treasure. I don't think I could prepare eel with the tools on hand, though one of my crew may be able to whip something up.
Didn't matter. Supplies would be found. My only other issue was charts, but the way I figured, North and West was the US. East was Europe and Africa. Don't travel south or pure north and I would eventually hit land.
My little head nodded, my spine coming into realignment, and the tarnished and scratched cross that hung between my Blues jacket and my crisp white T-shirt, the one with a batman logo on it, felt warm as it nestled, hidden from sight.
I had a course, a plan, and a…
Fuck.
Aircraft
Cpl Makerel, Fuck you I have torpedo's, Signing. Off.
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Authors Note:
Have a plan. It will probabbly be a bit before she meets any US forces, as Muse decieded to take a deciededly alternate approach to the US. Spoiler, Cpl Makerel may reach California.
Also, really tried to do the best lighthearted stuff I could. I dont think that way, so its more of a mix. Not grimderp, not light and fluffy. Aiming more for a nice juicy steak you can sink your teeth into.
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