Cold War Babysub (Kantai SI, Other) And Fleet
- Thread starter Lordhighalnder
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Somewhere other than where I am.
Yikes. And Mack's torps aren't homing? Double yikes.
Sure, if the Spanish are fielding Abyssal submarines.
No longer Chapter 69: Invited to the ball, its almost time to dance
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Most of the time submarine battles are supposed to be tense, filled with lots of waiting and being silent. I guess at some point my captain decided to fuck that noise, perhaps due to my brand of tactics. Oh, the crew could still do silent running, but battle stations. It was loud, somewhat hectic, and entirely controlled chaos. My engineers did everything they could during the fight, dealing cracks, breaks, and bends as they came up. More than once the engine room had started to flood during my wild maneuvers, but they kept their cool and kept me floating. The Captain stood steely eyed and sipping his coffee, letting the crew do their work even as he relayed my orders.
When we moved, we moved fast, and there was no time for the confusion brought about by silence, nor the slowness.
When I breached the surface, there was no confusion in my girls. The Torpedoes had missed, and they kept track of the fight with SONAR, and knew exactly who won that round. Still, with the enemy confident enough to take a shot at us, that screamed that our position was burned. It was time to hotfoot out of here since I could not go deep and run, without abandoning my fleet.
That was not on the agenda, not today or ever.
I quickly corralled them back into a formation. Since we would be running fast, we had to reconfigure, and toss a couple of tow lines. Burning with the wind towards shore, we picked up our pace, screws and sails pulling us towards the straights, along the Moroccan coast. If we could make Casablanca, it would give us a chance to do some recon, maybe bypass the straight by going overland, something I was certain the Abyssal forces would not consider. Or anyone else really.
I guess the first real inkling that we were not going to reach the coast in time was the clouds. We were somewhat overcast, but then they began to deepen and thicken before thunder and shade started to sprout from them. The storm seemed to have popped out of nowhere, and it was between us and land. On the bright side, our Sail girls could move faster than the rest owing to the wind, and the reduced weight. On the downside, well, I was used to knife fighting, but my fleet was not.
Most of my fleet.
Hm.
"Rayo, come here a sec. Can you use this?" The shipgirl was quick to come along side, taking my bayonet from the had I held outstretched. She looked it over, gripping it tightly before giving it a rather textbook straight thrust into an imaginary target. Perfect. She nodded, and I was quick to hand out a few K-bars to Aigle and Indomptable.
"So, when we make contact, prep boarding parties, dance around the enemy, and get into close quarters. You have zero armor, so you are going to need to move fast. Blade into the enemy, rip and tear. Do not stop and get caught up, just offload a crew and keep moving to the next one. You three won't have the luxury of backup or retreat at the range you're fighting, so bear that in mind." I spent the next few minutes briefing them, giving them a bit of tactical advice. 488 stayed close to Avenger, as neither would, nor should be operating in knife range.
"When you are close, you can drop the midgets over the sides, let them wreak some havoc. Ill be with you and doing what I can but were doing a bit higher stakes than either of your crews will have handled.
The United States is one of the only navies to do what I was doing. At sea Replenishment, on the move. I dumped crate after crate into the holds of the girls, running rope lines from me to them and sending the netted cargo across. They were the modern equipment, enough shotguns to outfit their boarding parties, some breaching charges in case someone got the bright idea to lock any doors, and as many grenades as I could shove onto them. In return, they offloaded all the rest of their cargo to avenger, who was sitting a little low in the water as a result. The loss of mass would help them move faster, and while it would normally impact their stability, in this case they had no need for it as they had no guns. Their officer swords were, for the most part, either ceremonial, or something that they would need to practice with. A knife was easy and got them into the best range the enemy would be uncomfortable with.
I hope.
Apprehensively, we sailed into the storm, ready to meet our dance partners.
Mack, Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
When we moved, we moved fast, and there was no time for the confusion brought about by silence, nor the slowness.
When I breached the surface, there was no confusion in my girls. The Torpedoes had missed, and they kept track of the fight with SONAR, and knew exactly who won that round. Still, with the enemy confident enough to take a shot at us, that screamed that our position was burned. It was time to hotfoot out of here since I could not go deep and run, without abandoning my fleet.
That was not on the agenda, not today or ever.
I quickly corralled them back into a formation. Since we would be running fast, we had to reconfigure, and toss a couple of tow lines. Burning with the wind towards shore, we picked up our pace, screws and sails pulling us towards the straights, along the Moroccan coast. If we could make Casablanca, it would give us a chance to do some recon, maybe bypass the straight by going overland, something I was certain the Abyssal forces would not consider. Or anyone else really.
I guess the first real inkling that we were not going to reach the coast in time was the clouds. We were somewhat overcast, but then they began to deepen and thicken before thunder and shade started to sprout from them. The storm seemed to have popped out of nowhere, and it was between us and land. On the bright side, our Sail girls could move faster than the rest owing to the wind, and the reduced weight. On the downside, well, I was used to knife fighting, but my fleet was not.
Most of my fleet.
Hm.
"Rayo, come here a sec. Can you use this?" The shipgirl was quick to come along side, taking my bayonet from the had I held outstretched. She looked it over, gripping it tightly before giving it a rather textbook straight thrust into an imaginary target. Perfect. She nodded, and I was quick to hand out a few K-bars to Aigle and Indomptable.
"So, when we make contact, prep boarding parties, dance around the enemy, and get into close quarters. You have zero armor, so you are going to need to move fast. Blade into the enemy, rip and tear. Do not stop and get caught up, just offload a crew and keep moving to the next one. You three won't have the luxury of backup or retreat at the range you're fighting, so bear that in mind." I spent the next few minutes briefing them, giving them a bit of tactical advice. 488 stayed close to Avenger, as neither would, nor should be operating in knife range.
"When you are close, you can drop the midgets over the sides, let them wreak some havoc. Ill be with you and doing what I can but were doing a bit higher stakes than either of your crews will have handled.
The United States is one of the only navies to do what I was doing. At sea Replenishment, on the move. I dumped crate after crate into the holds of the girls, running rope lines from me to them and sending the netted cargo across. They were the modern equipment, enough shotguns to outfit their boarding parties, some breaching charges in case someone got the bright idea to lock any doors, and as many grenades as I could shove onto them. In return, they offloaded all the rest of their cargo to avenger, who was sitting a little low in the water as a result. The loss of mass would help them move faster, and while it would normally impact their stability, in this case they had no need for it as they had no guns. Their officer swords were, for the most part, either ceremonial, or something that they would need to practice with. A knife was easy and got them into the best range the enemy would be uncomfortable with.
I hope.
Apprehensively, we sailed into the storm, ready to meet our dance partners.
Mack, Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/They
Good stuff. Can't wait to see how it plays out. One minor quibble of terminology:
The term you're looking for is "UNREP", or "Underway Replenishment", if I recall my dad's stories correctly (he was a machinist's mate on USS Detroit, an ammunition oiler).
"Oh boy here we go killing again"
I cant remember when the spanish ships are from chronologically, but getting in close and boarding would be something any wooden ships/iron men sailors would be very familiar with.
- Location
- Somewhere other than where I am.
Full credit. Mack is a loyal little fish.
This fight is set up to be the worst arrangement for Mack. Due to her surface assets she can't approach undetected and she can't dive and scoot to break contact. On top of that, she has effective non-combatants to protect, so it is a bloody escort mission and her wingmen are less durable than tin cans. And we haven't even seen what the enemy has, beyond a single possibly-cold-war-era submarine.
This. Every blue-water navy worthy of the name can replenish at sea, but doing it while moving is a whole other ballgame.
Also this, but their boarding parties are equipped with woefully outdated weaponry, and aren't available in large numbers. Essentially they will be sending suicide squads over to try to distract and cripple the enemy ships long enough for Mack to finish them off. There are also the problems of surviving long enough to get that close, since WWII era AA should be enough to ruin a wooden hull's day, and that a wooden hull always loses when rammed by a steel hull. Frankly, MSSB is the only reason they have anything resembling a chance at all.
- Location
- Washington
Didn't Mack transfer over modernish (WWII) weapons and even some breaching charges?
- Location
- Somewhere other than where I am.
Yes, she did, and this is why. Their own gear was obsolete 100 years ago.
OK, based on a discussion with my mother (the real German expert in the family, having a degree in the language and having lived in West Germany for about four years in the late 60s), I need to make two modifications to my comments suggesting "Vera" as a name for 488.
First off, she said that the vowel sounds don't work as a pun on "vier" in German (which I thought might be the case, since the German pronunciation of "Vera" would phonetically be "Fay-rah"), though I could still see Mack seeing it as punny if 488 told him her number auf Deutsch, so I won't retract the suggestion... just point out that if he starts going with "get it?" and other pun reactions, she'd just be puzzled as all hell.
Secondly, she corrected me. German humor tends not to involve puns; it's exceedingly dry stuff that can be hilarious, but wordplay is not a common feature of it. (German drinking songs tend towards stuff that makes it easy to misspeak and say something very punny or dirty if you're drunk, which is hilarious to other drunk people, but that's the exception rather than the rule. And yes, Germans may have beer or wine more frequently than Americans, though usually in lesser amounts... but when they party, they party hard and get fucked the hell up. Apparently, one of the reasons for large German beer steins is that the more drunk you are, the harder they get to lift and bring successfully to your mouth, making them effectively a way to prevent alcohol poisoning.) So even if the pun worked in German, or she otherwise became aware of the pun involved, 488 would probably just groan and roll her eyes rather than finding it funny.
Mea culpa; I felt I should get this out there before anything gets written that relies on 488 cracking up over such a name. (Mom, too, couldn't come up with a female German name that would be similar to "vier-acht-acht" in any way that would work in German, so if you want to put that sort of IJN-lewdmarine-style naming on her, it'll have to be one that either works in English or works on an English pronunciation of the German name... though she did agree that Vera is a perfectly good German name that also works in a number of other languages, so it might not be a bad one anyway.)
First off, she said that the vowel sounds don't work as a pun on "vier" in German (which I thought might be the case, since the German pronunciation of "Vera" would phonetically be "Fay-rah"), though I could still see Mack seeing it as punny if 488 told him her number auf Deutsch, so I won't retract the suggestion... just point out that if he starts going with "get it?" and other pun reactions, she'd just be puzzled as all hell.
Secondly, she corrected me. German humor tends not to involve puns; it's exceedingly dry stuff that can be hilarious, but wordplay is not a common feature of it. (German drinking songs tend towards stuff that makes it easy to misspeak and say something very punny or dirty if you're drunk, which is hilarious to other drunk people, but that's the exception rather than the rule. And yes, Germans may have beer or wine more frequently than Americans, though usually in lesser amounts... but when they party, they party hard and get fucked the hell up. Apparently, one of the reasons for large German beer steins is that the more drunk you are, the harder they get to lift and bring successfully to your mouth, making them effectively a way to prevent alcohol poisoning.) So even if the pun worked in German, or she otherwise became aware of the pun involved, 488 would probably just groan and roll her eyes rather than finding it funny.
Mea culpa; I felt I should get this out there before anything gets written that relies on 488 cracking up over such a name. (Mom, too, couldn't come up with a female German name that would be similar to "vier-acht-acht" in any way that would work in German, so if you want to put that sort of IJN-lewdmarine-style naming on her, it'll have to be one that either works in English or works on an English pronunciation of the German name... though she did agree that Vera is a perfectly good German name that also works in a number of other languages, so it might not be a bad one anyway.)
Chapter 69-71
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
So, uh... Ooops. Started writing again, forgot I was posted on SV, forgot I had written more on SV than I did SB.
So, ignore that last chapter?
sorry...
also, as to names, Ive elected to call 488 Miss Frizzle, on account of imagining her giving out juiceboxes and taking her kids (The Midget Subs) on an adventure.
So, yeah, shes wearing a pink dress, carries around a school bus that she pulls supplies out of, and has an endless stream of Juiceboxes that she carries around. Yay?
edit: Ill try to work most of the things from CH 69 old into the story, as it does make sense, but until I do, im leaving it in place.
------------------
CH 69
As the youngest ship in our little fleet, I hadn't really thought what would happen when I had 5 much older ships around, especially after a fight that left me more than a little bit battered. Rising from the depths, my crew was already in action to stave off the sea from flooding our engines. While Ben and Peter were dead, Brown and the Johns had sealed off the engine room, and were wearing dive tanks while trying to get the gash in my main repaired. It sounded like it was going well, but that may have been just the lack of cursing that came with having your Oxygen pumped into your lungs via tube.
I guess coughingBlood oil into the water wasn't that great a sign.
40 feet from the surface, if I could get there I could lay on my side, keep the gash above water and pump the water out. I just needed to get there.
35 feet. My feet weren't kicking, but propulsion never really mattered, it was just a game of buoyancy.
30 feet.
25 feet.
20 feet, and the main...
21.
23.
25.
If I were pure human, I guess things would be getting bleary and unclear from the lack of air. But if I go full girl now... Well.
It would be quicker at least.
Still, as it is, I can see the Midgets gathering around me. Hey little guys, sorry I couldn't get you any further.
Huh.
At 60 feet, my descent was arrested. Just at the edge of their operating ability, they came together with a bit of a crash against my hull. 17 of the buggers all around me, working to lift me like a whale taking their first breath...
The air when we crested? It never did taste Sweeter.
Cpl Mack, Ohana. Nobody gets left behind...
------------------
CH70
At the surface, every other time id been in such peril I would have been able to pause, take in what happened, maybe swap out DC teams. But with five older ships to mother me...
Well, Avenger was the classic British Busybody, though her Damage Control team was very quick to supply me with the parts I needed. Apparantly they had a few spares they were building up just in case I took damage, mostly the really vital things. my own DC team was faster about installing things, and a few of them had ideas as to how to prevent the damage in the future without readily increasing my tonnage. Good to know, but its going to have to hold until we can get into a proper shipyard.
You know, after the almost three months that I had been a ship, the mothering Avenger was giving? It felt nice.
Really really nice.
And 488's juiceboxs were really tasty, though I could tell that Rayo or Aigle had splashed a bit of Rum Ration into it.
Sipping on my juicebox as the welding team went to work, surrounded by my new family... Yes, we had just been attacked, but for once.
For once it felt like I wasn't Sisyphus. My rock would get to the mountain top, and stay there.
When Indomptable hoisted me out of the water, and set me into a hammock held between Rayo and Aigle, I didn't protest, and the small squeak definitly was because of sea water washing the lubrication out of one of my hatches. But the Hammock was nice, and it swayed, and as the fleet turned, my eyes drifted closed, warm on rum and a full belly, the light tingle of metal welding soft in the background, and the powered wrenches going to work on replacing damaged piping was more blanket than I ever needed to fall asleep.
Not the sleep of the dead, but the sleep of the loved.
I wish Max was still here...
Cpl Mack, Ohana. Or Forgotten.
-------------
Ch 71
Waking up, hanging between two absolutely beautiful and built buxom brawlers was something I had dreamed of back when I had been flesh and blood, instead of flesh and steel. Still, I heartily enjoyed the sight, in the soft blue of the waters of the Med. The swaying of the sails, the crew on deck drilling with modern rifles, the deck swabs swabbing, and the seagulls crying.
Avenger was firmly in front of us, and it looked like she had all her birds away at the moment, as her deck was clear and empty of aircraft. 488 drifted nearby her on the surface, chatting merrily away with a ship I didn't recognize immediately, save by the flag they flew, the modern day German flag in its three banded colors flying high. Inomptable was sailing a bit behind and to the right, mirroring a trio of destroyers who kept shooting her glances, snickering behind their hands every now and again.
While my periscope swivled, taking in the sights before I moved, DC let me know that my prop shaft was unbent, which was excellent news as that would have been a shipkiller of an injury before I was woken up. All of the major damages had been patched or repaired fully, though I was operating at about 75% on screws, they weren't able to get the blades fully fixed and wouldn't without some berth time.
All things considered, I came out of that one fight way worse for wear than I normally did, and it was only thanks to the ships around that I was able to float freely again. A whispered word to Rayo and Aigle (flashing ship to ship lights) let them know to dip the hammock into the water so I could sneak up on the destroyers.
I didn't like their glances, especially not the contempt they had. Made sense why the other Spaniards had refused to be treated like crap. I'd seen it before, been on the tail end a time or two, and it wasn't something I would be tolerating.
Carfully the hammock was lowered into the water, where my knife parted a small hole in it that let me wriggle into the deep without a splash or sound. Being part girl I was able to divest myself easily, kicking into the water without causing much noise for the destroyers to hear.
Like all Marines, I knew the value of keeping a pack of sharpies with me, and as I rose from the water next to the outermost destroyer who probabbly should have been looking in my direction if she wasn't gossiping about how she was glad inomptable had ditched the dead weight of her cannons, I uncapped it, and brought it onto her hull.
Recaping it and sliding back into the water, I was able to tag all three four times before I got bored with it, sailing up to pop out next to Avenger.
"So, whats with the Escort?"
Avenger will forever deny having dropped her tea.
Cpl Mack, Karma Shmarma, say bunk get dunked.
So, ignore that last chapter?
sorry...
also, as to names, Ive elected to call 488 Miss Frizzle, on account of imagining her giving out juiceboxes and taking her kids (The Midget Subs) on an adventure.
So, yeah, shes wearing a pink dress, carries around a school bus that she pulls supplies out of, and has an endless stream of Juiceboxes that she carries around. Yay?
edit: Ill try to work most of the things from CH 69 old into the story, as it does make sense, but until I do, im leaving it in place.
------------------
CH 69
As the youngest ship in our little fleet, I hadn't really thought what would happen when I had 5 much older ships around, especially after a fight that left me more than a little bit battered. Rising from the depths, my crew was already in action to stave off the sea from flooding our engines. While Ben and Peter were dead, Brown and the Johns had sealed off the engine room, and were wearing dive tanks while trying to get the gash in my main repaired. It sounded like it was going well, but that may have been just the lack of cursing that came with having your Oxygen pumped into your lungs via tube.
I guess coughing
40 feet from the surface, if I could get there I could lay on my side, keep the gash above water and pump the water out. I just needed to get there.
35 feet. My feet weren't kicking, but propulsion never really mattered, it was just a game of buoyancy.
30 feet.
25 feet.
20 feet, and the main...
21.
23.
25.
If I were pure human, I guess things would be getting bleary and unclear from the lack of air. But if I go full girl now... Well.
It would be quicker at least.
Still, as it is, I can see the Midgets gathering around me. Hey little guys, sorry I couldn't get you any further.
Huh.
At 60 feet, my descent was arrested. Just at the edge of their operating ability, they came together with a bit of a crash against my hull. 17 of the buggers all around me, working to lift me like a whale taking their first breath...
The air when we crested? It never did taste Sweeter.
Cpl Mack, Ohana. Nobody gets left behind...
------------------
CH70
At the surface, every other time id been in such peril I would have been able to pause, take in what happened, maybe swap out DC teams. But with five older ships to mother me...
Well, Avenger was the classic British Busybody, though her Damage Control team was very quick to supply me with the parts I needed. Apparantly they had a few spares they were building up just in case I took damage, mostly the really vital things. my own DC team was faster about installing things, and a few of them had ideas as to how to prevent the damage in the future without readily increasing my tonnage. Good to know, but its going to have to hold until we can get into a proper shipyard.
You know, after the almost three months that I had been a ship, the mothering Avenger was giving? It felt nice.
Really really nice.
And 488's juiceboxs were really tasty, though I could tell that Rayo or Aigle had splashed a bit of Rum Ration into it.
Sipping on my juicebox as the welding team went to work, surrounded by my new family... Yes, we had just been attacked, but for once.
For once it felt like I wasn't Sisyphus. My rock would get to the mountain top, and stay there.
When Indomptable hoisted me out of the water, and set me into a hammock held between Rayo and Aigle, I didn't protest, and the small squeak definitly was because of sea water washing the lubrication out of one of my hatches. But the Hammock was nice, and it swayed, and as the fleet turned, my eyes drifted closed, warm on rum and a full belly, the light tingle of metal welding soft in the background, and the powered wrenches going to work on replacing damaged piping was more blanket than I ever needed to fall asleep.
Not the sleep of the dead, but the sleep of the loved.
I wish Max was still here...
Cpl Mack, Ohana. Or Forgotten.
-------------
Ch 71
Waking up, hanging between two absolutely beautiful and built buxom brawlers was something I had dreamed of back when I had been flesh and blood, instead of flesh and steel. Still, I heartily enjoyed the sight, in the soft blue of the waters of the Med. The swaying of the sails, the crew on deck drilling with modern rifles, the deck swabs swabbing, and the seagulls crying.
Avenger was firmly in front of us, and it looked like she had all her birds away at the moment, as her deck was clear and empty of aircraft. 488 drifted nearby her on the surface, chatting merrily away with a ship I didn't recognize immediately, save by the flag they flew, the modern day German flag in its three banded colors flying high. Inomptable was sailing a bit behind and to the right, mirroring a trio of destroyers who kept shooting her glances, snickering behind their hands every now and again.
While my periscope swivled, taking in the sights before I moved, DC let me know that my prop shaft was unbent, which was excellent news as that would have been a shipkiller of an injury before I was woken up. All of the major damages had been patched or repaired fully, though I was operating at about 75% on screws, they weren't able to get the blades fully fixed and wouldn't without some berth time.
All things considered, I came out of that one fight way worse for wear than I normally did, and it was only thanks to the ships around that I was able to float freely again. A whispered word to Rayo and Aigle (flashing ship to ship lights) let them know to dip the hammock into the water so I could sneak up on the destroyers.
I didn't like their glances, especially not the contempt they had. Made sense why the other Spaniards had refused to be treated like crap. I'd seen it before, been on the tail end a time or two, and it wasn't something I would be tolerating.
Carfully the hammock was lowered into the water, where my knife parted a small hole in it that let me wriggle into the deep without a splash or sound. Being part girl I was able to divest myself easily, kicking into the water without causing much noise for the destroyers to hear.
Like all Marines, I knew the value of keeping a pack of sharpies with me, and as I rose from the water next to the outermost destroyer who probabbly should have been looking in my direction if she wasn't gossiping about how she was glad inomptable had ditched the dead weight of her cannons, I uncapped it, and brought it onto her hull.
Recaping it and sliding back into the water, I was able to tag all three four times before I got bored with it, sailing up to pop out next to Avenger.
"So, whats with the Escort?"
Avenger will forever deny having dropped her tea.
Cpl Mack, Karma Shmarma, say bunk get dunked.
Last edited:
- Location
- USA
Welcome back! We missed you!
Chapter 72: Weird looks
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Have you ever stood on deck as a ship came into port? Coming home from a long deployment? Well, It was a first for me. I knew the pomp and cerimony of a ship exiting port, getting sailors and marines all dressed up and standing em around the thing like they were cake toppers. Coming into foreign ports however, there was a whole lot less pomp, and a whole lot more of making sure everything was prepped.
My little conversation with Avenger had gone well, apparantly I had been asleep for the passage through Gibraltar, or rather, the overland journey from Rabat to Oujda. We had been met up with our escorts when Avenger had tried to Transit through the pass at Bonifacio. Me being asleep a pair of weeks was unexpected, and I hadn't told them of my plan to make for Malta and Sigonella, so instead we were arriving at the Joint forces base in Naples.
We had been greeted initially by an Italian patrol, before handed over to our current escorts, a German, British, and American destroyer, and an Italian cruiser. The Cruiser was the one who had been talking to Avenger, while the other girls had been supposed to mingle with us, though with me out of commission and 488 being a bit skittish...
Well, that ship had clearly sailed, and I wouldn't exactly be mingling with them until we hit shore anyways. Really, who sends a destroyer to escort a friendly submarine, let alone three. Thats the kind of intimidation tactic best left for enemies, and frenemies.
There was some part of me that was paranoid over the final interaction we would be having, if the port would be friendly or not. It should be, but... Better to be safe than sorry.
I nodded to the cruiser, before sipping a bit back into the water, one eye keeping an eye on the destroyers who seemed to have missed the fact that I wasn't in the hammock. I slid to 488, and ran a wire across. A few minutes of whispered conversation, and me brandishing my knife at her only to have her snatch it from me, then had her hand the knife back along with three crates. The knife was tucked away where it belonged, and two crates were strapped to my deck for a short bit, while the third I carried over to Indomptable. I had to cross a part of that water submerged, so the crate contents were soaking wet when I handed it over along with a bit of whispered instructions.
Then it was back into the midst of my buxom beauties, and a quick tap on their hull had the hammock lowered into the water, each unstrapping a crate from me and taking it onboard. To them I gave the same instructions I had Indomptable.
"These are for in close work. You have zero armor, but move fast and have very little signature. Prep boarding parties and use that, do not stop, do not slow, stab, board, and keep moving. You won't have the luxary of backup or retreat when you are fighting, so keep that in mind. Drop the Midgets close by and they can act as a nasty suprise while you work. Ill hopefully take attention off you with something a bit higher stakes, and you are my reinforcements and distraction. Keep it bloody, but keep it quick."
I gave them their last bit of instruction, before loudly yawning and stretching, even as a series of lines ran from me to the two girls. The United States is one of the only navies to do what I was doing. At sea Replenishment, on the move. I dumped crate after crate into the holds of the girls, running rope lines from me to them and sending the netted cargo across. They were the modern equipment, enough shotguns to outfit their boarding parties, some breaching charges in case someone got the bright idea to lock any doors, and as many grenades as I could shove onto them.
When the Destroyers looked about and finally saw me obviously waking up, they moved to intercept, so I slipped into the water as the woodgirls moved towards Avenger, the lines falling back in and all the cargo halting at the ships. Enough had been shifted that they could carry out my planned tactics, while we could finish everything up after we hit land.
Away from the Destroyers, the woodgirls began working with Avenger, who began to sit low in the water as a result of the cargo shift. The loss of mass would help them move faster, and while it would normally impact their stability, in this case they had no need for it as they had no guns. Their officer swords were, for the most part, either ceremonial, or something that they would need to practice with. my little gift was easy to use and got them into the best range the enemy would be uncomfortable with, while simultaneously being one if the most innacurate ranges in existance.
As the three worked, I looked at the destroyers.
They looked at me.
It was a stare down, and then Avenger clicked her coms twice.
I sank into the water, and shifted back to be with my fleet.
Weird girls.
Cpl Mack, Move like a butterfly, sting like a hornet, and drop grenades like they were party favors
My little conversation with Avenger had gone well, apparantly I had been asleep for the passage through Gibraltar, or rather, the overland journey from Rabat to Oujda. We had been met up with our escorts when Avenger had tried to Transit through the pass at Bonifacio. Me being asleep a pair of weeks was unexpected, and I hadn't told them of my plan to make for Malta and Sigonella, so instead we were arriving at the Joint forces base in Naples.
We had been greeted initially by an Italian patrol, before handed over to our current escorts, a German, British, and American destroyer, and an Italian cruiser. The Cruiser was the one who had been talking to Avenger, while the other girls had been supposed to mingle with us, though with me out of commission and 488 being a bit skittish...
Well, that ship had clearly sailed, and I wouldn't exactly be mingling with them until we hit shore anyways. Really, who sends a destroyer to escort a friendly submarine, let alone three. Thats the kind of intimidation tactic best left for enemies, and frenemies.
There was some part of me that was paranoid over the final interaction we would be having, if the port would be friendly or not. It should be, but... Better to be safe than sorry.
I nodded to the cruiser, before sipping a bit back into the water, one eye keeping an eye on the destroyers who seemed to have missed the fact that I wasn't in the hammock. I slid to 488, and ran a wire across. A few minutes of whispered conversation, and me brandishing my knife at her only to have her snatch it from me, then had her hand the knife back along with three crates. The knife was tucked away where it belonged, and two crates were strapped to my deck for a short bit, while the third I carried over to Indomptable. I had to cross a part of that water submerged, so the crate contents were soaking wet when I handed it over along with a bit of whispered instructions.
Then it was back into the midst of my buxom beauties, and a quick tap on their hull had the hammock lowered into the water, each unstrapping a crate from me and taking it onboard. To them I gave the same instructions I had Indomptable.
"These are for in close work. You have zero armor, but move fast and have very little signature. Prep boarding parties and use that, do not stop, do not slow, stab, board, and keep moving. You won't have the luxary of backup or retreat when you are fighting, so keep that in mind. Drop the Midgets close by and they can act as a nasty suprise while you work. Ill hopefully take attention off you with something a bit higher stakes, and you are my reinforcements and distraction. Keep it bloody, but keep it quick."
I gave them their last bit of instruction, before loudly yawning and stretching, even as a series of lines ran from me to the two girls. The United States is one of the only navies to do what I was doing. At sea Replenishment, on the move. I dumped crate after crate into the holds of the girls, running rope lines from me to them and sending the netted cargo across. They were the modern equipment, enough shotguns to outfit their boarding parties, some breaching charges in case someone got the bright idea to lock any doors, and as many grenades as I could shove onto them.
When the Destroyers looked about and finally saw me obviously waking up, they moved to intercept, so I slipped into the water as the woodgirls moved towards Avenger, the lines falling back in and all the cargo halting at the ships. Enough had been shifted that they could carry out my planned tactics, while we could finish everything up after we hit land.
Away from the Destroyers, the woodgirls began working with Avenger, who began to sit low in the water as a result of the cargo shift. The loss of mass would help them move faster, and while it would normally impact their stability, in this case they had no need for it as they had no guns. Their officer swords were, for the most part, either ceremonial, or something that they would need to practice with. my little gift was easy to use and got them into the best range the enemy would be uncomfortable with, while simultaneously being one if the most innacurate ranges in existance.
As the three worked, I looked at the destroyers.
They looked at me.
It was a stare down, and then Avenger clicked her coms twice.
I sank into the water, and shifted back to be with my fleet.
Weird girls.
Cpl Mack, Move like a butterfly, sting like a hornet, and drop grenades like they were party favors
- Location
- Minesota, USA
I know it's been a while, but why are they preparing to attack? I thought they were finally among friendlies?
- Location
- England
Frankly I shouldn't NEED to say this given you joined 6 years ago, but if you want to ask something like this PM the author. Instead of posting here and annoying the mods (whom will probably lock this when they get here) and everyone whom thought this had just risen from the dead to find out it hasn't.
Ignore that bit (I didn't realise SV has a necro allowed rule)
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Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
And this is SV, where necromancy is legal. To the point that complaining about necromancy is more likely to get you dinged.
- Location
- England
Not trying to be patronizing (am actually curious now)
Edit: I stand corrected somehow. I didn't know about the Necro allowed rule until now (What are the odds... learn something new everyday)
In that case... I am kinda curious then on if this is permadead or if Author will respond (As this was a pretty cool fic honestly).
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Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
Open up the Rules and check the last paragraph of Rule 4.
- Location
- England
Just did (See amended post above)
May need a reread of the rules (and this fic) later then... (If this does get revived I may just do that)
May need a reread of the rules (and this fic) later then... (If this does get revived I may just do that)
Lordhighalnder
Student, smarter than some.
- Location
- Long Beach, CA
Im going to be honest, its been a few years and I have zero of my notes/what was supposed to happen with Mack. Im finishing up college, after that I might take another stab, but Its possible ive lost the mindset to run Mack... Her character and mine dont jive too much these days, and as much as ive tried to sit and write her...
It's probably going to be a few years yet before I put pen to paper for her.
On the bright side, If I get back into her head, ill have less wonky a schedule, which should make updates more consistant at that time.
Realistically, if I write Mack again, its going to be a complete re-write from the ground up, and probably wont be until 2026 at the earliest.
edit: As to why shes preparring to attack, I think it was show of force/preventing herself and her team from being taken prisoner. The fleet showed up with a heavy anti-sub patrol, which has her skittish, and shes going to show of force right back. Cpl Mack, not the most politcally savvy person.
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