Crimson Aria (Arpeggio of Blue Steel)
- Thread starter Dragontrapper
- Start date
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
*concurs with this idea*ILurkNoMoar said:
some what?00Zy99 said:
Is that like three plot lines at once?
Snip 7
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
yeah, my update speed is crap - but at least I still update!
----
"Let's go over this one more time, Commander."
Anderson hid a sigh as he considered the ONI official seated across from him. The Office of Naval Intelligence and the NMIC, in theory, worked closely with each other. Both were, after all, tasked with collecting information on their enemies. ONI, however, was tasked with more then just collecting intelligence - they were tasked with making sure the Navies secrets stayed secret. "Approximately 12 hours ago, Intelligence Specialist Third Class James Richardson failed to report for duty. Subsequent calls to his personal number failed to reach him and went straight to voice-mail. Subsequent investigation showed that, after the close business the other day, Petty Officer Richardson rented a small watercraft and rowed out beyond the harbor's perimeter barrier."
"So, you are telling me that you have no idea where your sailor has been for the last 36 hours?" The ONI official asked.
"Or at the moment," Anderson added. "Mister...Walker, was it?" the Commander studied the man briefly. He could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, his suit well tailored and his blonde hair swept back, giving him the air of a politician instead of a naval official. "My sailors have possibly the highest security clearances in the country. All of them have had full background checks, and regular polygraphs. You cannot honestly be suggesting that Richardson is a traitor, can you?"
Walker, for his part, simply pulled a pair of thin glasses from his coat pocket, donning them before he pulled a file out of a nearby briefcase and started scanning the documents inside over. "The integrity of your sailor is not what concerns me, Commander. What concerns me is where he might be. We have reason to believe that he has been captured by the Fleet of Fog and thus represents a significant potential security breech."
"The Fog Fleet!?" Commander Anderson couldn't help but hide his sense of surprise. "I wasn't aware that the Fog even took prisoners."
"Neither were we," Walker replied as he laid a image print on the Commander's desk before turning around so that Anderson could get a decent look at it. It looked like it had been taken with a telephoto lenses, and showed a grainy figure that might have been Richardson seated in a rowboat next to the comparatively massive form of a Fog Fleet cruiser. "This was taken by one of our Arclight batteries the other day, shortly before they opened fire. Based on their report, none of the salvo's made it through. Interestingly, the Fog cruiser did not counter-attack - an uncharacteristic level of restraint, considering our enemies history."
"Indeed," Anderson agreed. Missiles never did anything to the Fog Fleet anyway, but anytime they did fire retaliatory strikes were sure to follow. For a brief moment, his mind drifted back to that briefing the other day. "It is an...interesting aberration in behavior."
"And one aberration might mean there are others." Walker replied. "If one of your people was taken by the Fog Fleet, we need to determine exactly what they might know. We need to ensure damage stays to a minimum."
"As I told you, my people are entirely-"
"Trustworthy, yes." Walker finished the Commander's thought. "But that ignores the other side of the equation. We have no idea what sort of extraction methods the Fog may have at their disposal. It is entirely possible that they might be able to simply pull the information out of his brain. as the representative for ONI, it is my job to ensure that all possible measures are taken to protect the fleet and the country."
Anderson raised an eyebrow. "You think they can read minds now?"
"Well, they seem quite interested in copying our forms." Walker pointed out. "Copying our minds would be a logical step. Given that they have energy shields, I wouldn't put mind reading past them."
"Fair enough," Anderson nodded his head before rising from his seat. "Well, I shall keep your advisement in mind, Mister Walker."
Walker rose from his own seat and gave the Commander a polite nod. "For now, that is all I can ask. Have a good day, Commander. I can show myself out."
"Please - what sort of of host would I be if I didn't walk you to the door?" The two of them headed out the door and into the watch-floor of the NMIC, which had become a hive of activity during their meeting. Not wasting any time, Anderson made a beeline for the Duty Officer, Walker following close behind. "What's going on?"
"Sir," the Duty officer - one of their Chief today - gestured toward one of the larger screens that adorned the watch-floors walls. "We just received a down-link from a bird over the eastern seaboard - right off out coast here, in fact - and we are trying to confirm the Intel at the moment. If it is accurate though..."
"What is it?" Anderson asked. At that moment, one of the Analysts at a nearby station spoke up. "File download complete, Chief!"
"Play it," the Duty Officer ordered. "Let's see if those stills are what we think they are." For a brief moment, the larger portion of activity paused as the video file started to play. The war with the Fog Fleet had taken quite the toll on humanities orbital assets, and the Fog was not inclined to let them replace the downed birds. What assets they did have left were milked for everything they were worth, giving them eyes on locations UAVs and telescopic lenses couldn't.
The video in question was a fair example, if the coordinates in the the corner were anything to go by - a spot on the Atlantic far enough over the horizon to be out of view of shore-based scopes and problematic to image using higher altitude platforms. The overhead view looked like something out of a strategy game as it showed the three destroyers engage with the lone and oddly familiar looking cruiser. The fact that the destroyers proceeded to, as one of the analysts put it, 'pull a voltron' and combine into a single massive cannon was actually less surprising. Whatever followed would have to remain a mystery, since the light show that followed the cannon firing was enough to blind the optics on the bird. Anderson hoped it didn't cause any permanent damage. "Anything else?"
"No sir," an Analyst spoke up. "File ends after weapon discharge. System optics shutdown due to their luminosity threshold being breached." The analyst paused for a moment as she scanned over her consoles screen. "...by a significant margin."
"Fog Fleet shooting Fog Fleet," Walker mused. "That's a new one."
"The question is why?" Anderson asked. "I find myself wishing I had taken Richardon's suggestion more seriously."
Walker raised an eyebrow. "And what suggestion was that?"
"He postulated that the Fog Fleet was more...dynamic then we have assumed. Given this new evidence, I am inclined to believe that his idea might have merit. I apologize, Mr. Walker but.."
"Say nothing more," Walker replied. "Like I said before, I can show myself out." The watch-floor was still buzzing with activity as the ONI official made his way out of the building, pausing as he stepped outside, the smell of the sea carrying on an evening breeze. He took a deep breath before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out the thin form of a what might have been satellite phone.
He hit the speed dial before lifting it to his ear, a soft dial tone cycling before he heard it pick up, a soft feminine voice playing across the encrypted connection. "Anthony?"
"Richelieu," he replied calmly. "It seems we might have a problem."
"If you are referring to the incident with the rogue destroyers, then its has been noted." the feminine voice answered, a soft hint of amusement evident even over the connection.
"Only partially." Walker replied. "Augusta has retrieved a human attached to an intelligence facility in Norfolk."
Only the soft sound of breathing was heard over the line for several moments. When the voice spoke again, the hint of amusement is gone. "Are you certain? This is not a suggestion to make lightly. The implications are... far reaching."
"Maritime Intelligence confirmed the encounter." Walker assured her. "The possible contamination could cause complications to the plan. I assume there is a way we can contain this?"
"Several," The voice replied. "few of them subtle and all likely to draw attention. The Fleet has ways to ensure it survival. We take traitors about as well as you're kind do, Anthony."
"And working with humans is treason, is it?"
"Of course. The Augusta and her cohorts shall be treated accordingly."
"So what does that make our relationship?"
"You silly, silly, man." The voice chuckled softly. "I don't work for you - you work for me."
"There's a difference?" Walker asked.
"Of course. But you already knew that." The amusement had crept back into her voice. "I can trust you to report any other changes in the situation, can't I?"
"Of course." Walker replied. "I assure you, I will protect the Fleet."
"Until next time then, Anthony."
"Richelieu."
The connection closed with a soft beep, and somewhere in the vast Atlantic, a young looking blonde woman lowered her hand from her ear, a soft smile dancing across her face as the sea breeze tugged at her braid and her dark dress. "Well, it seems my schedule has gotten quite busy."
----
"Let's go over this one more time, Commander."
Anderson hid a sigh as he considered the ONI official seated across from him. The Office of Naval Intelligence and the NMIC, in theory, worked closely with each other. Both were, after all, tasked with collecting information on their enemies. ONI, however, was tasked with more then just collecting intelligence - they were tasked with making sure the Navies secrets stayed secret. "Approximately 12 hours ago, Intelligence Specialist Third Class James Richardson failed to report for duty. Subsequent calls to his personal number failed to reach him and went straight to voice-mail. Subsequent investigation showed that, after the close business the other day, Petty Officer Richardson rented a small watercraft and rowed out beyond the harbor's perimeter barrier."
"So, you are telling me that you have no idea where your sailor has been for the last 36 hours?" The ONI official asked.
"Or at the moment," Anderson added. "Mister...Walker, was it?" the Commander studied the man briefly. He could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, his suit well tailored and his blonde hair swept back, giving him the air of a politician instead of a naval official. "My sailors have possibly the highest security clearances in the country. All of them have had full background checks, and regular polygraphs. You cannot honestly be suggesting that Richardson is a traitor, can you?"
Walker, for his part, simply pulled a pair of thin glasses from his coat pocket, donning them before he pulled a file out of a nearby briefcase and started scanning the documents inside over. "The integrity of your sailor is not what concerns me, Commander. What concerns me is where he might be. We have reason to believe that he has been captured by the Fleet of Fog and thus represents a significant potential security breech."
"The Fog Fleet!?" Commander Anderson couldn't help but hide his sense of surprise. "I wasn't aware that the Fog even took prisoners."
"Neither were we," Walker replied as he laid a image print on the Commander's desk before turning around so that Anderson could get a decent look at it. It looked like it had been taken with a telephoto lenses, and showed a grainy figure that might have been Richardson seated in a rowboat next to the comparatively massive form of a Fog Fleet cruiser. "This was taken by one of our Arclight batteries the other day, shortly before they opened fire. Based on their report, none of the salvo's made it through. Interestingly, the Fog cruiser did not counter-attack - an uncharacteristic level of restraint, considering our enemies history."
"Indeed," Anderson agreed. Missiles never did anything to the Fog Fleet anyway, but anytime they did fire retaliatory strikes were sure to follow. For a brief moment, his mind drifted back to that briefing the other day. "It is an...interesting aberration in behavior."
"And one aberration might mean there are others." Walker replied. "If one of your people was taken by the Fog Fleet, we need to determine exactly what they might know. We need to ensure damage stays to a minimum."
"As I told you, my people are entirely-"
"Trustworthy, yes." Walker finished the Commander's thought. "But that ignores the other side of the equation. We have no idea what sort of extraction methods the Fog may have at their disposal. It is entirely possible that they might be able to simply pull the information out of his brain. as the representative for ONI, it is my job to ensure that all possible measures are taken to protect the fleet and the country."
Anderson raised an eyebrow. "You think they can read minds now?"
"Well, they seem quite interested in copying our forms." Walker pointed out. "Copying our minds would be a logical step. Given that they have energy shields, I wouldn't put mind reading past them."
"Fair enough," Anderson nodded his head before rising from his seat. "Well, I shall keep your advisement in mind, Mister Walker."
Walker rose from his own seat and gave the Commander a polite nod. "For now, that is all I can ask. Have a good day, Commander. I can show myself out."
"Please - what sort of of host would I be if I didn't walk you to the door?" The two of them headed out the door and into the watch-floor of the NMIC, which had become a hive of activity during their meeting. Not wasting any time, Anderson made a beeline for the Duty Officer, Walker following close behind. "What's going on?"
"Sir," the Duty officer - one of their Chief today - gestured toward one of the larger screens that adorned the watch-floors walls. "We just received a down-link from a bird over the eastern seaboard - right off out coast here, in fact - and we are trying to confirm the Intel at the moment. If it is accurate though..."
"What is it?" Anderson asked. At that moment, one of the Analysts at a nearby station spoke up. "File download complete, Chief!"
"Play it," the Duty Officer ordered. "Let's see if those stills are what we think they are." For a brief moment, the larger portion of activity paused as the video file started to play. The war with the Fog Fleet had taken quite the toll on humanities orbital assets, and the Fog was not inclined to let them replace the downed birds. What assets they did have left were milked for everything they were worth, giving them eyes on locations UAVs and telescopic lenses couldn't.
The video in question was a fair example, if the coordinates in the the corner were anything to go by - a spot on the Atlantic far enough over the horizon to be out of view of shore-based scopes and problematic to image using higher altitude platforms. The overhead view looked like something out of a strategy game as it showed the three destroyers engage with the lone and oddly familiar looking cruiser. The fact that the destroyers proceeded to, as one of the analysts put it, 'pull a voltron' and combine into a single massive cannon was actually less surprising. Whatever followed would have to remain a mystery, since the light show that followed the cannon firing was enough to blind the optics on the bird. Anderson hoped it didn't cause any permanent damage. "Anything else?"
"No sir," an Analyst spoke up. "File ends after weapon discharge. System optics shutdown due to their luminosity threshold being breached." The analyst paused for a moment as she scanned over her consoles screen. "...by a significant margin."
"Fog Fleet shooting Fog Fleet," Walker mused. "That's a new one."
"The question is why?" Anderson asked. "I find myself wishing I had taken Richardon's suggestion more seriously."
Walker raised an eyebrow. "And what suggestion was that?"
"He postulated that the Fog Fleet was more...dynamic then we have assumed. Given this new evidence, I am inclined to believe that his idea might have merit. I apologize, Mr. Walker but.."
"Say nothing more," Walker replied. "Like I said before, I can show myself out." The watch-floor was still buzzing with activity as the ONI official made his way out of the building, pausing as he stepped outside, the smell of the sea carrying on an evening breeze. He took a deep breath before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out the thin form of a what might have been satellite phone.
He hit the speed dial before lifting it to his ear, a soft dial tone cycling before he heard it pick up, a soft feminine voice playing across the encrypted connection. "Anthony?"
"Richelieu," he replied calmly. "It seems we might have a problem."
"If you are referring to the incident with the rogue destroyers, then its has been noted." the feminine voice answered, a soft hint of amusement evident even over the connection.
"Only partially." Walker replied. "Augusta has retrieved a human attached to an intelligence facility in Norfolk."
Only the soft sound of breathing was heard over the line for several moments. When the voice spoke again, the hint of amusement is gone. "Are you certain? This is not a suggestion to make lightly. The implications are... far reaching."
"Maritime Intelligence confirmed the encounter." Walker assured her. "The possible contamination could cause complications to the plan. I assume there is a way we can contain this?"
"Several," The voice replied. "few of them subtle and all likely to draw attention. The Fleet has ways to ensure it survival. We take traitors about as well as you're kind do, Anthony."
"And working with humans is treason, is it?"
"Of course. The Augusta and her cohorts shall be treated accordingly."
"So what does that make our relationship?"
"You silly, silly, man." The voice chuckled softly. "I don't work for you - you work for me."
"There's a difference?" Walker asked.
"Of course. But you already knew that." The amusement had crept back into her voice. "I can trust you to report any other changes in the situation, can't I?"
"Of course." Walker replied. "I assure you, I will protect the Fleet."
"Until next time then, Anthony."
"Richelieu."
The connection closed with a soft beep, and somewhere in the vast Atlantic, a young looking blonde woman lowered her hand from her ear, a soft smile dancing across her face as the sea breeze tugged at her braid and her dark dress. "Well, it seems my schedule has gotten quite busy."
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
NOMicah_Hakubi said:
A fleet has a Richard
also the SSO for Richard's shop is going to have SOOO much paperwork...
so trueDB_Explorer said:NO
A fleet has a Richard
(I was going to say that my self)
SSO?
What does that stand for?
And why would it be paperwork hell?
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
well one of them. Someone likes french womenMajor Major said:
and being a sub... since if its treason to work WITH humans or FOR humans obviously the Rich is USING him - and he knows this.
Chester: .... Kinky.
Salt Lake City: Says the tech fetishist.
Special00Zy99 said:
Security
Officer
Helps handle access to classified stuff and the like. Clearance approval and the like.
Dudes been kidnapped by fog fleet.... PAPER WORK EVERYWHERE.
Well. That was unexpected.
And suddenly, Augusta's task force will be equipped with weird things, such as boarding parties and torpedo mines. And whatever else Richards can think of.
Also, nice to see this still updates.
And suddenly, Augusta's task force will be equipped with weird things, such as boarding parties and torpedo mines. And whatever else Richards can think of.
Also, nice to see this still updates.
Its the US Government, man.Maes said:Well, it's possible that paperwork for that scenario doesn't even exist.
We have paper work for zombie outbreaks NOW.
(btw-are you at all incorporating the backstory about Gauss and the documents that might be in the US Archives?)
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
the who and what now?00Zy99 said:
DB_Explorer said:
sorry, talking to Dragontrapper.
Read the Arpeggio timeline as detailed on the cover flaps of the volumes.
(beware spoilers)
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
which volume? >[ I did not relize the timeline changed so I glossed over them.00Zy99 said:
Edit - that and the site I read the manga on kinda skips over the cover flaps more often then not.
</blockquote]
Judge Mental
Stranger In a Strange Land
Yeah, this.Doomsought said:
"There's a form for that, and if there isn't, there will be shortly."
Bloody paperwork. It breeds like rabbits, and five times faster than that as soon as it's out of sight.
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
If The matter comes up, yes - though it might not become relevant.00Zy99 said:
And yes - paperwork, paperwork everywhere.
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
well the papers could be sitting next to the Ark.Dragontrapper said:If The matter comes up, yes - though it might not become relevant.
And yes - paperwork, paperwork everywhere.
Snip 8
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
Sorry about the delay - got sidetracked by other projects. Anyway, here's the next update. Not as long as I'd like but they next one shouldn't take as long to write.
---
There was a time, not so long ago by human reckoning, that the control structure of the Fog Fleet was simple. Elegant, even.
Each fleet in the Fog was imbued with its purpose. It knew, literally at the core of its being, what it was meant to do. No matter what that purpose was - hunting human vessels, serving in a patrol picket, or long-term surveillance, and no matter what other command levels were added on with heavy cruisers and battleships, two constants always remained - that the word of the Admiralty Code was absolute, and that the Fleet must be preserved.
In the early days, things had been simple. The Code would do what was best for the Fleet, and thus the Code was always to be followed. The Code was absolute. But, with mental models, things had changed. Along with the concept of things such as time, they had gained other...proclivities. With the absence of the Admiralty Code, some began to wonder if their standing orders could or should still be applied in a fluid situation such as where they found themselves. In the absence of the Code, it was their duty to maintain the fleet and ensure that their highest objective could be met.
Others, however, questioned the wisdom of this line of thought. The Admiralty Code had already established chains of command, designating Fleets and their commanders and subordinate units. Any further alteration of the force stucture was almost blasphemous.
This divide slowly grew, but remained largely trivial for several decades. With the ships of the Fog Fleet practically untouchable, and the existing status quo working admirably to achieve the goals of the fleet, there was little reason to fret about the survival of the Fog in the face of following the Code.
Recent developments, though, had brought the issue to the forefront.
Richelieu stared out across the vast expanse of the Atlantic, her blonde braid floating in the wind as she considered her options. Under the edict of the Admiralty Code, her area of authority was only for the West African region, until she ran into the Alabaster Fleet under Massachusetts further north near Casablanca. But how could she sit idly while her sisters were under threat?
"Something on your mind, Richie?" Richelieu glanced to her side to see Dupleix glancing up at her with a quirked eyebrow. the slightly built crimson-haired Mental Model was wearing her usual dress, the ridiculous sleeveless black and white frilled one paired with the tall white heels. "Guessing you heard about the Scarlet Fleet?"
Richelieu gave a shrug as Heavy Cruiser stepped closer. Next to each other, they were a comparasion of opposites - Richelieu was tall, blonde-haired with cool blue eyes and a no-nonsense white blouse and blue tie with a long skirt. Dupleix was a good head or two shorter and couldn't seem to hold still. The battleship had grown used to it after a while. "The Scarlet Fleet has been acting irregularly for quite a while now. Matters so far north are Hood's problem, not mine."
"So it must be yesterday's report then," Dupleix suggested, to which Richelieu nodded. The Cruiser reached up to pat her Commanding ship on the sholder. "Don't worry about it, Richie! So we've got a couple of bad eggs to deal with - big deal."
"What worries me is who they attacked," Richelieu pulled up the data files from the tactical net, studying it for a moment. "That Task Force..."
"You mean Iowa's special investigations group?" Dupleix asked, a hint of confusion in her voice. "What's the problem with them?"
"Other than being aberrations within the fleet?" Richelieu asked. "I have it on good word that they might have collected a human being right before the attack."
"Oooooh!" Dupleix clapped her hands together. "I like it! Makes for a good story. Wonder why they didn't mention that in their report..."
"An excellent question," Richelieu dismissed the data file and started her navigation program. "One I intend to ask them myself."
"What!?!" Richelieu noted, not for the first time, that if she was ever going to play that 'poker' game she had heard of, Dupleix would have been an easy mark - her surprise was clearly written across her face. "But that's outside our mandate!"
"What is the point of these bodies," she gestured to herself, "if we cannot act indepedantly?"
"But, Richie, the Admiralty Code pretty clearly states..."
"The Admiralty Code never considered the possiblity that a Fog Ship would turn on its fellow ships. For the sake of the Fleet, I have little recourse but to act however I can," Richelieu replied sharply before regaining her composure. "Besides, it's not as if I do not plan to contact Iowa about this."
"So..." Dupleix looked up at her boss curiously. "What exactly is the plan, Richie?"
"Simple," Richelieu replied as her engines powered up to near full output. "We go and meet Crimson's new pet and, if we have to, eliminate it."
She paused for a moment before adding; "And don't call me Richie."
---
There was a time, not so long ago by human reckoning, that the control structure of the Fog Fleet was simple. Elegant, even.
Each fleet in the Fog was imbued with its purpose. It knew, literally at the core of its being, what it was meant to do. No matter what that purpose was - hunting human vessels, serving in a patrol picket, or long-term surveillance, and no matter what other command levels were added on with heavy cruisers and battleships, two constants always remained - that the word of the Admiralty Code was absolute, and that the Fleet must be preserved.
In the early days, things had been simple. The Code would do what was best for the Fleet, and thus the Code was always to be followed. The Code was absolute. But, with mental models, things had changed. Along with the concept of things such as time, they had gained other...proclivities. With the absence of the Admiralty Code, some began to wonder if their standing orders could or should still be applied in a fluid situation such as where they found themselves. In the absence of the Code, it was their duty to maintain the fleet and ensure that their highest objective could be met.
Others, however, questioned the wisdom of this line of thought. The Admiralty Code had already established chains of command, designating Fleets and their commanders and subordinate units. Any further alteration of the force stucture was almost blasphemous.
This divide slowly grew, but remained largely trivial for several decades. With the ships of the Fog Fleet practically untouchable, and the existing status quo working admirably to achieve the goals of the fleet, there was little reason to fret about the survival of the Fog in the face of following the Code.
Recent developments, though, had brought the issue to the forefront.
Richelieu stared out across the vast expanse of the Atlantic, her blonde braid floating in the wind as she considered her options. Under the edict of the Admiralty Code, her area of authority was only for the West African region, until she ran into the Alabaster Fleet under Massachusetts further north near Casablanca. But how could she sit idly while her sisters were under threat?
"Something on your mind, Richie?" Richelieu glanced to her side to see Dupleix glancing up at her with a quirked eyebrow. the slightly built crimson-haired Mental Model was wearing her usual dress, the ridiculous sleeveless black and white frilled one paired with the tall white heels. "Guessing you heard about the Scarlet Fleet?"
Richelieu gave a shrug as Heavy Cruiser stepped closer. Next to each other, they were a comparasion of opposites - Richelieu was tall, blonde-haired with cool blue eyes and a no-nonsense white blouse and blue tie with a long skirt. Dupleix was a good head or two shorter and couldn't seem to hold still. The battleship had grown used to it after a while. "The Scarlet Fleet has been acting irregularly for quite a while now. Matters so far north are Hood's problem, not mine."
"So it must be yesterday's report then," Dupleix suggested, to which Richelieu nodded. The Cruiser reached up to pat her Commanding ship on the sholder. "Don't worry about it, Richie! So we've got a couple of bad eggs to deal with - big deal."
"What worries me is who they attacked," Richelieu pulled up the data files from the tactical net, studying it for a moment. "That Task Force..."
"You mean Iowa's special investigations group?" Dupleix asked, a hint of confusion in her voice. "What's the problem with them?"
"Other than being aberrations within the fleet?" Richelieu asked. "I have it on good word that they might have collected a human being right before the attack."
"Oooooh!" Dupleix clapped her hands together. "I like it! Makes for a good story. Wonder why they didn't mention that in their report..."
"An excellent question," Richelieu dismissed the data file and started her navigation program. "One I intend to ask them myself."
"What!?!" Richelieu noted, not for the first time, that if she was ever going to play that 'poker' game she had heard of, Dupleix would have been an easy mark - her surprise was clearly written across her face. "But that's outside our mandate!"
"What is the point of these bodies," she gestured to herself, "if we cannot act indepedantly?"
"But, Richie, the Admiralty Code pretty clearly states..."
"The Admiralty Code never considered the possiblity that a Fog Ship would turn on its fellow ships. For the sake of the Fleet, I have little recourse but to act however I can," Richelieu replied sharply before regaining her composure. "Besides, it's not as if I do not plan to contact Iowa about this."
"So..." Dupleix looked up at her boss curiously. "What exactly is the plan, Richie?"
"Simple," Richelieu replied as her engines powered up to near full output. "We go and meet Crimson's new pet and, if we have to, eliminate it."
She paused for a moment before adding; "And don't call me Richie."
Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
Ah, and the fog have developed politics. Poor saps.
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Surely you can't be serious!?Maes said:
Kongo class was as heavy as Nagato though. Yet only one MM.Maes said:
More likely it's to do with the union core which has nothing to do with ship displacement or gun bore. Major fleet command units have the computational capability, irrelevant whether they have taken on a ship body the size of a rowboat or super-battleship. They just tend to gravitate to the larger ship bodies because preference
Case in point: Musashi. Larger than any ship save Yamato, yet only one MM. But, Musashi isn't a major fleet command unit that we know of.
The counter example would be Hyuga, but perhaps a patrol fleet doesn't count as a major command and Nagato is commanding 'below her grade' because having two patrol fleets is more efficient and they split up the Oriental fleet; even if each patrol fleet separately doesn't rate a major command core.
Musashi also has Shouzou. Who I suspect is carrying some nanomaterial and acting as an extra mental model. It's also possible that the "crew" are fake humans rather like the dummies that Takao made.
Further support for my theory of "caliber = mental model capacity" is that Zuikaku has a mental model roughly the size of I-402's. Despite being the size of Kongo.
Further support for my theory of "caliber = mental model capacity" is that Zuikaku has a mental model roughly the size of I-402's. Despite being the size of Kongo.
Has no basis at all. Fits no pattern. Submarines are also relatively small, but they were about as recent as heavy cruisers or all-big-gun battleships.Einsieg said:
Archer.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Archer_(D78)
Appeared for one panel at 10 Downing St. Carriers are little girls with cats.
Yeah. That's kind of the problem with having a cast derived from WWII capital vessels. (Gee, I wonder why we haven't seen any American MM's yet
) (fixed for you, btw)Musashi did not always have Shouzou, but apparently did always have one MM.00Zy99 said:
Also, Bismarck had 38cm cannons. So did Repulse. If caliber relates to the number of MM, where is Repulse's second MM?
It takes time to grow mental models. We don't know for SURE that Musashi always only had one mental model-we only see her about 2-3 seconds for acquiring Shouzou, so a second mental model would likely already have been broken down.Gosu said:
Bismarck's mental models are relatively small (it seems). It's possible that she has the bare minimum for multiple mental models. It could be a function of "total caliber for the whole hull". Besides, Repulse is treated as an over-grown cruiser rather than a battleship, according to the translation of the discussion on Hakugei.
00Zy99 said:
None of this addresses the core issue (pun not intended but boy does it fit): it's not a function of gun caliber, aggregate gun caliber, or displacement. It's a function of the union core capacity and possibly personal preference.