DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Someone get the Wichita a captain... 
Crimson Aria (Arpeggio of Blue Steel)
- Thread starter Dragontrapper
- Start date
- Location
- Paradise, Hawaii
Someone get the Wichita a captain...
What type?
Young, Clean-cut, fun to try and break?
Older, suave, negotiable morals that swears like a sailor on occasion?
ecs05norway
Zenryoku Zenkai!
Young, athletic, sassy tomboy.
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
No no no!
She's already the young athletic tomboy! tropes require that she hooks up with a bookish, somewhat terse young woman.
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
No no no!
She's already the young athletic tomboy! tropes require that she hooks up with a bookish, somewhat terse young woman.
No clearly she saves a little girl who ends up calling her big sis.
Familial love!! ahah! never saw THAT coming!
- Location
- Paradise, Hawaii
So.. Porter?
ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
Is it just me, or does anyone else think Richardson's going to end up "promoted" to "Captain" of a certain heavy cruiser?
Nah, not Captain. More like soon to be long-suffering First Mate.
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Nah... Task Force Intelligence Officer. Unlike Chihaya Richard has no training in naval combat tactics outside of anything needed to do his job - Augusta and the rest will have to figure out tactics themselves.
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
so, basically his only real advantage is that his is a sneaky, underhanded human.
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
so, basically his only real advantage is that his is a sneaky, underhanded human.
Ok so next step:
Teach the ships how to play poker and Diplomacy. The latter should result in the total collapse of the fog fleet 72 hours after it gets onto the tactical network.
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
Augusta: "I trust Wichita. I will trust her with my books, my human and my core. I will not trust that bitch with Belgium though."
Snip 21
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
Oh my gods I'm so late with this - please forgive me.
-------
The sun was rising over the Atlantic as the task force's destination finally appeared on the distant horizon, and something was amiss.
"The island doesn't look right," Richardson said as he look up from the rail-mounted binoculars, "are you sure it's abandoned?"
"Mostly," Augusta replied with a shrug, "Why?"
"Because it looks like the place has been expanded," Richardson took another look through the binoculars. Even with their magnification, he couldn't make out much at this distance but he could make out the dull gleam of steel buildings in the early morning sun - which shouldn't have been a thing, after years of exposure to sea spray. Nothing should have been left of them but rusted hulks, "You sure this area is empty?"
"Of humans? Certainly," Augusta replied, "Of official fleet traffic? Almost certainly. Anything else, I couldn't even fathom a guess," Her gaze went unfocused for a moment before her eyes refocused with a small smirk, "and it seems our esteemed leader is having similar apprehensions as you. Cutting speed to 40%."
The deck shook under Richardson's feet as the heavy cruiser slowed and its retainer of smaller vessels - mostly Fletcher classes, the one that hung back most likely being Porter - started to spread out as they moved to surround the island at what was likely assumed to be a safe distance. Then again... "What's the range on a Fog Fleet laser battery? We had it pinned at ten miles."
"Close," Augusta replied, "Eleven - standard batteries can't cope with planetary curvature. That's why we have missile batteries. If you're worried about that, don't be – the island's quiet."
Richardson raised any eyebrow. "No EM?"
"Nothing," Augusta replied, "No targeting or search radars. Whoever is on that island isn't even looking for us. Though, hrm..."
"Please, no 'hrm'," Richardson replied, "I don't think I can deal with 'hrm' at the moment..."
"Destroyers are picking up faint LIDAR signatures," Augusta explained, "Pulse patterns match standard Fog perimeter monitoring."
"As in a trip wire?" Richardson asked.
"More akin to an alternative to patrols," Augusta said with a shrug, "whoever is on that island will know we're coming. But no far-range sensing is..."
"Really weird," Richardson concluded, "So – it's either safe, or a trap. This should be fun."
The heavy cruiser slowed as it drew up to the pier, the dull concrete and metal stretching out into the ocean looking far better maintained then anything on an abandoned island had any right to be. "Wait a moment," Augusta said, holding a hand up to halt Richardson as he started to move toward the already unfolding gangplank, "let the others go first."
A score of mini-Augustas poured out of the nearby hatches before dashing down the gangplank, spreading out across the pier and proceeding to poke around before signaling an all clear. At least, Richardson thought it was an all-clear. "So... it's safe?"
"Indeed," Augusta replied as she strode down the gangplank with her usual calm composure. Her miniature copies quickly lined up at attention as she set foot on the smooth concrete, calmly peering around, "It is strangely quiet..."
"Please don't say too quiet," Richardson sighed as she followed behind her, "I know you've read enough..." As if waiting for the cue, the pier underneath them shook as a pair of car-sized crab-like robots emerged from the water, climbing onto the pier, energy weaponry on their arms giving off ominous hums as they powered up.
"You will proceed to central control," a bassal, metalic voice echoed from one of the steel-gray constructs, "your secondary bodies will remain here."
Richardson sighed, "figures..." he started turning around to talk to Augusta, "So – what's the-"
"Come along Richardson," Richardson nearly jumped out of his skin when Augusta suddenly spoke up from right next to him as she glided past. Personifications of nine thousand ton warships should not be that stealthy, dammit! Augusta just gave him one of her small smirks as she glided past, "it's not polite to keep our host waiting."
"Even if they're probably going to kill us?" Richardson grumbled as two more oversized constructs flanked them on either side, leaving them surrounded.
"My dear, if they wanted us dead, they could have killed us already," Augusta replied as their small group moved along. As they went, Richardson noticed the tell-tale signs of construction. Buildings that most definitely weren't navy – or human – design. Most of them looked well maintained, and he could make guesses as to what a few of them were – power stations with their transformer equipment and power lines, information centers covered in dishes and antenna for sensors, engineering bays with wide doors rolled open to show half-built contraptions or strange vehicles surrounded by tool benches.
"Doesn't make this less of a bad idea," Richardson replied as he scanned their surroundings, "walking into a mad scientist's lair is never a good idea..."
"Well, at least it seems predominately mechanical," Augusta replied calmly, "I shall start worrying when I spot any hybrids."
Before Richardson could reply, they were escorted around a corner and Richardson subsequently found his jaw dropping. Even Augusta missed a step at the sight. An edifice of glass and steel rose from the top of the low hill ahead of them, forming a Victorian style greenhouse that their escorts continued toward for another few steps before pausing and turning toward them, "Follow."
The mechanical voice brooked no complaints, so the pair simply continued to follow after it. Steel and glass doors swung open ahead of them of their own volition, and an instant later Richardson found his glasses fogging up. Inside the humid interior of the greenhouse had condensation drizzling down on the sea of green inside. Entire trees had been transplanted from their native lands and now filled the glass structure, while a cornucopia of ferns and flowering plants lined the short path to a central patio.
That patio was not empty. A trio of wrought-iron chairs were arranged haphazardly around a matching table, and one of them was occupied.
Long red hair tied back in a loose braid, nearly touching the floor from where she was sitting. Her long purple skirt shifted as she moved in her seat, flashing the briefest glimpse of shapely legs clad in black stockings and a pair of riding boots. Her corset was the same color as her skirt, laced over a white blouse. A white-gloved hand come up to her face, adjusting a pair of half-rimmed glasses, through which a pair of blue eyes studied them as she flashed them a grin, "Ah, company – how lovely," the red-head rose to her feet, Richardson noticing the white sash tied around her waist and the neckerchief at her collar as she pulled the purple beret off her head and gave a small bow, "Augusta, it's been too long – and you've brought a friend.
"Renown," Augusta replied with a sigh, "why are you doing out here?"
"Offended the wrong people," Renown replied as she settled back into her seat, smoothing her skirt out before gesturing at the other chairs, "please – have a seat. Nothing quite as impressive as you though," a soft laugh as she lifted her teacup – had that always been there? - to her lips, "Really now? Getting yourselves wanted by the entire High Command? Its unprecedented – I'm sort of impressed to be honest."
"I'm sorry," Richardson cut in as he took a seat, "But did you say Renown? As in HMS Renown? Shouldn't you be off of Gibraltar?"
Renown grinned at the human, "You know your ships,"
"I know the fog fleet," Richardson replied, "and I know the Fog Fleet gets progressively less creative the higher up the chain you go. Fleet stations tend to be near country of origin, or at least where they operated in real-life. So – who'd you piss off to get stationed out here?"
Renown blinked at that before giving a small chuckle, "Well, well – perceptive ,aren't we? Where on earth did you find this boy, Augusta?"
"In a rowboat off of Norfolk," Augusta replied with a shrug, "He seems to have a tendency to disregard caution when his curiosity gets the better of him – the two of you should get along wonderfully."
"Perhaps," Renown replied, "As for your question, the fleet doesn't like my hobbies."
"And what hobbies are those?" Richardson asked, "Given that all the Mental Models I've met have their...quirks, banishment seems excessive."
Renown shrugged, "Well, when I let my hobbies distract me from my patrol operations..."Renown sighed, "It was one SSTO! It wasn't even going to be a valid target anyway – they would have never noticed if I'd gotten that report filed three seconds earlier!"
"She's a naturalist," Augusta explained, "though it seems she's also picked up engineering. I do hope you hadn't found my books boring, Renown."
"Oh, hardly!" Renown replied with a dismissive wave, "Though I'm glad you here – and not just because I can finally give you your books back. I need a bit of a favor."
"And we need somewhere to hide," Augusta replied, "I think we can come to an agreement."
"Don't be so sure yet," Renown said with a small chuckle, "I don't think you'll like what I'm asking."
"Not like we have many other choices," Richardson replied with a shrug, "So – what's rent going to cost us?"
"Nothing much," she said as she leaned back in her chair with a grin, "I just need you to go rescue one of my ships."
The Mental Model and the Petty Officer stared at their host for a moment before Richardson finally said something.
"What?"
-------
The sun was rising over the Atlantic as the task force's destination finally appeared on the distant horizon, and something was amiss.
"The island doesn't look right," Richardson said as he look up from the rail-mounted binoculars, "are you sure it's abandoned?"
"Mostly," Augusta replied with a shrug, "Why?"
"Because it looks like the place has been expanded," Richardson took another look through the binoculars. Even with their magnification, he couldn't make out much at this distance but he could make out the dull gleam of steel buildings in the early morning sun - which shouldn't have been a thing, after years of exposure to sea spray. Nothing should have been left of them but rusted hulks, "You sure this area is empty?"
"Of humans? Certainly," Augusta replied, "Of official fleet traffic? Almost certainly. Anything else, I couldn't even fathom a guess," Her gaze went unfocused for a moment before her eyes refocused with a small smirk, "and it seems our esteemed leader is having similar apprehensions as you. Cutting speed to 40%."
The deck shook under Richardson's feet as the heavy cruiser slowed and its retainer of smaller vessels - mostly Fletcher classes, the one that hung back most likely being Porter - started to spread out as they moved to surround the island at what was likely assumed to be a safe distance. Then again... "What's the range on a Fog Fleet laser battery? We had it pinned at ten miles."
"Close," Augusta replied, "Eleven - standard batteries can't cope with planetary curvature. That's why we have missile batteries. If you're worried about that, don't be – the island's quiet."
Richardson raised any eyebrow. "No EM?"
"Nothing," Augusta replied, "No targeting or search radars. Whoever is on that island isn't even looking for us. Though, hrm..."
"Please, no 'hrm'," Richardson replied, "I don't think I can deal with 'hrm' at the moment..."
"Destroyers are picking up faint LIDAR signatures," Augusta explained, "Pulse patterns match standard Fog perimeter monitoring."
"As in a trip wire?" Richardson asked.
"More akin to an alternative to patrols," Augusta said with a shrug, "whoever is on that island will know we're coming. But no far-range sensing is..."
"Really weird," Richardson concluded, "So – it's either safe, or a trap. This should be fun."
The heavy cruiser slowed as it drew up to the pier, the dull concrete and metal stretching out into the ocean looking far better maintained then anything on an abandoned island had any right to be. "Wait a moment," Augusta said, holding a hand up to halt Richardson as he started to move toward the already unfolding gangplank, "let the others go first."
A score of mini-Augustas poured out of the nearby hatches before dashing down the gangplank, spreading out across the pier and proceeding to poke around before signaling an all clear. At least, Richardson thought it was an all-clear. "So... it's safe?"
"Indeed," Augusta replied as she strode down the gangplank with her usual calm composure. Her miniature copies quickly lined up at attention as she set foot on the smooth concrete, calmly peering around, "It is strangely quiet..."
"Please don't say too quiet," Richardson sighed as she followed behind her, "I know you've read enough..." As if waiting for the cue, the pier underneath them shook as a pair of car-sized crab-like robots emerged from the water, climbing onto the pier, energy weaponry on their arms giving off ominous hums as they powered up.
"You will proceed to central control," a bassal, metalic voice echoed from one of the steel-gray constructs, "your secondary bodies will remain here."
Richardson sighed, "figures..." he started turning around to talk to Augusta, "So – what's the-"
"Come along Richardson," Richardson nearly jumped out of his skin when Augusta suddenly spoke up from right next to him as she glided past. Personifications of nine thousand ton warships should not be that stealthy, dammit! Augusta just gave him one of her small smirks as she glided past, "it's not polite to keep our host waiting."
"Even if they're probably going to kill us?" Richardson grumbled as two more oversized constructs flanked them on either side, leaving them surrounded.
"My dear, if they wanted us dead, they could have killed us already," Augusta replied as their small group moved along. As they went, Richardson noticed the tell-tale signs of construction. Buildings that most definitely weren't navy – or human – design. Most of them looked well maintained, and he could make guesses as to what a few of them were – power stations with their transformer equipment and power lines, information centers covered in dishes and antenna for sensors, engineering bays with wide doors rolled open to show half-built contraptions or strange vehicles surrounded by tool benches.
"Doesn't make this less of a bad idea," Richardson replied as he scanned their surroundings, "walking into a mad scientist's lair is never a good idea..."
"Well, at least it seems predominately mechanical," Augusta replied calmly, "I shall start worrying when I spot any hybrids."
Before Richardson could reply, they were escorted around a corner and Richardson subsequently found his jaw dropping. Even Augusta missed a step at the sight. An edifice of glass and steel rose from the top of the low hill ahead of them, forming a Victorian style greenhouse that their escorts continued toward for another few steps before pausing and turning toward them, "Follow."
The mechanical voice brooked no complaints, so the pair simply continued to follow after it. Steel and glass doors swung open ahead of them of their own volition, and an instant later Richardson found his glasses fogging up. Inside the humid interior of the greenhouse had condensation drizzling down on the sea of green inside. Entire trees had been transplanted from their native lands and now filled the glass structure, while a cornucopia of ferns and flowering plants lined the short path to a central patio.
That patio was not empty. A trio of wrought-iron chairs were arranged haphazardly around a matching table, and one of them was occupied.
Long red hair tied back in a loose braid, nearly touching the floor from where she was sitting. Her long purple skirt shifted as she moved in her seat, flashing the briefest glimpse of shapely legs clad in black stockings and a pair of riding boots. Her corset was the same color as her skirt, laced over a white blouse. A white-gloved hand come up to her face, adjusting a pair of half-rimmed glasses, through which a pair of blue eyes studied them as she flashed them a grin, "Ah, company – how lovely," the red-head rose to her feet, Richardson noticing the white sash tied around her waist and the neckerchief at her collar as she pulled the purple beret off her head and gave a small bow, "Augusta, it's been too long – and you've brought a friend.
"Renown," Augusta replied with a sigh, "why are you doing out here?"
"Offended the wrong people," Renown replied as she settled back into her seat, smoothing her skirt out before gesturing at the other chairs, "please – have a seat. Nothing quite as impressive as you though," a soft laugh as she lifted her teacup – had that always been there? - to her lips, "Really now? Getting yourselves wanted by the entire High Command? Its unprecedented – I'm sort of impressed to be honest."
"I'm sorry," Richardson cut in as he took a seat, "But did you say Renown? As in HMS Renown? Shouldn't you be off of Gibraltar?"
Renown grinned at the human, "You know your ships,"
"I know the fog fleet," Richardson replied, "and I know the Fog Fleet gets progressively less creative the higher up the chain you go. Fleet stations tend to be near country of origin, or at least where they operated in real-life. So – who'd you piss off to get stationed out here?"
Renown blinked at that before giving a small chuckle, "Well, well – perceptive ,aren't we? Where on earth did you find this boy, Augusta?"
"In a rowboat off of Norfolk," Augusta replied with a shrug, "He seems to have a tendency to disregard caution when his curiosity gets the better of him – the two of you should get along wonderfully."
"Perhaps," Renown replied, "As for your question, the fleet doesn't like my hobbies."
"And what hobbies are those?" Richardson asked, "Given that all the Mental Models I've met have their...quirks, banishment seems excessive."
Renown shrugged, "Well, when I let my hobbies distract me from my patrol operations..."Renown sighed, "It was one SSTO! It wasn't even going to be a valid target anyway – they would have never noticed if I'd gotten that report filed three seconds earlier!"
"She's a naturalist," Augusta explained, "though it seems she's also picked up engineering. I do hope you hadn't found my books boring, Renown."
"Oh, hardly!" Renown replied with a dismissive wave, "Though I'm glad you here – and not just because I can finally give you your books back. I need a bit of a favor."
"And we need somewhere to hide," Augusta replied, "I think we can come to an agreement."
"Don't be so sure yet," Renown said with a small chuckle, "I don't think you'll like what I'm asking."
"Not like we have many other choices," Richardson replied with a shrug, "So – what's rent going to cost us?"
"Nothing much," she said as she leaned back in her chair with a grin, "I just need you to go rescue one of my ships."
The Mental Model and the Petty Officer stared at their host for a moment before Richardson finally said something.
"What?"
Last edited:
GeshronTyler
Kleiner Giftzwerg
Oho, a link to Blue Steel? Don't remember the name of the ship that was saved by the Japanese sub (Iona isn't a "Japanese" sub per se). Or is this another "lost lamb" of Renown's? I guess the latter is much more likely, seeing as how getting to east pacific/west indian ocean is a bit difficult, and a hell of a trip.
Last edited:
The two ships that were saved by the sub was HMS Repluse, Renown's sister and HMS Vampire.
Repulse (Renown's "sister") and Vampire - and since CAAoBS is set months prior to canon I doubt we're talking about either of them.
Edit - Ninja'ed.
Last edited:
SV5195R
C-Weapon
- Location
- Russian Federation
[GRAMMAR NAZI MODE ENGAGED]
...sorry.
Other than that, nice update.
This should be "it's" - there's nothing here that warrants the use of a possessive form, and the island is the grammatical subject of this sentence.
our
The sentence should read better that way.
island's
it's
mini-Augustas
it's
what's
It's probably "scientist's", unless you're talking about multiple mad scientists here.
trees
Models
...sorry.
Other than that, nice update.
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
...sorry.
Other than that, nice update.
Danke - fix.
and it no problem - just don't come at m with the pitch forks and we're good.