A TheBleachDoctor Quest (and all the connotations that come with it(expect cats at some point))...
Don't Shoot, We're Republican! - A Kantai Collection Quest
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OP, Combat Mechanics and Stats
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
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- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
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A TheBleachDoctor Quest (and all the connotations that come with it(expect cats at some point))
A Kantai Collection Quest with USN and IJN ships! Combat mechanics are
Assigned to the the Japanese Naval District in Yokusuka along with a few other USN shipgirls, the William D. Porter seeks to reinvent herself and leave her infamous reputation behind. But is that even possible with her abysmal luck, coupled with the fact that some of her companions won't let her forget the times she screwed up?
THIS QUEST NO LONGER USES COMBAT MECHANICS
Last edited:
1 - Off to the Land of the Rising Sun
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
- Location
- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The appearances of most of the USN Ship Girls in this Quest are based off of the Pacific Artbook.
"Welcome back to the United States Navy, William D. Porter, it's good to have you back."
Were the first words spoken to you when you returned from the depths of the ocean, right from the mouth of your new Admiral, her lips quirked upwards in a pleasant and friendly smile.
"Don't shoot, we're Republican."
Were the second words said to you upon entering the barracks at Pearl Harbor, said by none other than the Battleship Iowa.
Then began the hell that was your new life.
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
The Hawaiian Islands slowly dipped below the horizon as you and your squadron sped away from your home for the past few months. You felt a sense of loss. Your Admiral had been kind, and your surroundings familiar. Now you were leaving for an unfamiliar land, somewhere where you didn't even speak the language! You hope that you got a good translator when you got there.
On the bright side, you hear that Japan is nice this time of year.
Adjusting your grip on your five inch turret, you marvel at how different it is to hold the thing in your hand than it was to have it mounted on your deck.
You also give your own Torpedo tubes a once over. Two mounts, with five 21-inch tubes each. Inside are the powerful Mark 15 Torpedoes. While their firepower are nothing to scoff at, you do note with a bit of envy that Japanese torpedoes have greater range, and are better overall.
Maybe you can convince them to give you some to play with.
You look up at your Flagship for this assignment, BB-61. The Iowa sails in the middle of your formation, her navy-blue dress uniform fluttering in the wind. She nervously eyes you as you mess with your torpedo tubes.
For god's sake, will she ever let you live that down? It was an honest accident!
Most of the harassment you suffered a Pearl Harbor was all due to Iowa! Honestly, the girl can hold a grudge.
She hasn't trained any of her 16-inch guns on you, though, so at least she's not that convinced you'll fire on her.
You hope.
Her 40mm Bofors and 20mm Oerlikon guns are present on her Equipment, clearly identifying her 1943 loadout. She does have another loadout, that being her 1984 equipment. The reason being that her original form was rearmed and sent out into combat a few years ago, only to be sunk. Iowa, to date, is the only USN Ship Girl to have returned without being summoned. By all witness accounts, one minute after she sank beneath the waves, smoke pouring from her torn hull, she broke the water's surface, respendent in her new body, right before sending an entire Abyssal Fleet to the bottom in a spray of 16 and 5-inch shells, accompanied by a finishing salvo of Tomahawks.
You do note though, with a bit of satisfaction, that she is hideously expensive to operate. If the United States had as little resources as Japan, Iowa would likely suffer the same fate as the "Hotel" Yamato.
But the USN can afford to keep her 1943 equipment running, so run she does. (Her 1984 equipment was being flown to Japan on a stealth bomber, so you heard.)
The next member of your group is CL-51, the name ship of the Atlanta-class Light Cruiser. Her own uniform is much more formal than Iowa's. Most USN Ship Girls were officers in the Navy, so they were not allowed the... freedom of wardrobe that other countries allowed their own Ship Girls. You're a bit envious at that. Your own uniform is a bit stiff.
Iowa gets a pass because reasons. You think that's unfair.
Atlanta notices your glance and gives you a reassuring smile. Atlanta is always nice to you. Well, relatively. She does subject you to light teasing, but she doesn't mean it.
You think.
She had a 5-inch dual mount in each hand, held at the ready but aimed at nothing.
Behind her, CVL-22 is fiddling with her rifle, which resembles an M1 Garand. Like the Langley, she uses a gun to launch her own planes. However, being a mere light Carrier, Independence carries a limited number of aircraft, some of which can be seen flying ahead.
On the other side of the formation is Mahan, DD-364. She isn't as modern as you, but you suppose that has just as many 5-inch guns as you do, and her 12 21-inch torpedo tubes are nothing to sneeze at. A somewhat expendable but reliable escort for this little group as any.
Then again, aren't all Destroyers expendable? You don't consider yourself to be, but then again, what else are you "Tin Cans" good for?
The formation sails in total silence for the better part of an hour, under strict radio silence.
...
But nothing is preventing you from talking.
"I'm bored," Atlanta finally says, sighing in exasperation, "Are we there yet?"
"Not even close," Iowa replies, adjusting her parasol to better block the sun's rays, "Nothing on radar or sonar either, so if you were looking for entertainment, you're out of luck."
"Well... can't we pass the time somehow?" Mahan speaks up timidly, "I mean, I'm not bored, but..."
"This is the Navy," Independence quips, landing a flight of Buffalos on her rather short flight deck, "Entertainment is not in the job description."
"No, I think we should pass the time somehow," Atlanta counters, and turns to you, "Porter, you got any ideas?"
[] Target practice! Let loose some weather balloons and shoot them down!
[] Torpedo drills! Nothing can go wrong this time for sure!
[] Deliberately attract Abyssals. Fighting isn't boring, right?
[] Nothing. You're in the Navy, so you should act like it! Professionalism is the highest priority!
"Welcome back to the United States Navy, William D. Porter, it's good to have you back."
Were the first words spoken to you when you returned from the depths of the ocean, right from the mouth of your new Admiral, her lips quirked upwards in a pleasant and friendly smile.
"Don't shoot, we're Republican."
Were the second words said to you upon entering the barracks at Pearl Harbor, said by none other than the Battleship Iowa.
Then began the hell that was your new life.
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
Abyssals. Nobody knew where they came from or what their motivations were. But they seemed dead set on wiping Humanity from the Earth wherever they could reach them. They came onwards relentlessly, endlessly. It didn't matter if you sank one or a thousand; more would still come. It was a battle of attrition that the nations of the world could not win. Entire battle groups shot themselves dry against the oncoming horde, then fell prey to the unopposed counter strike.
It was an unsustainable war. A hopeless war. Entire island nations were forced into evacuation to spare them the war of genocide the Abyssals perpetrated.
Then the first Ship Girl arrived.
Risen from the depths like an avenging angel, the spirit of a battleship given Human form, she defended Japan from the sure death it faced at the hands of the Abyssals.
It was as if a dam had suddenly burst. All around the world, Ship Girls were appearing with alarming frequency. All appearing to embody the spirit of sunken warships, they stood with their countries and defended them from the oncoming swarm, protecting Humanity from the merciless Abyssals.
With further knowledge of summoning rituals, nations around the world encouraged the return of their Ship Girls, and began securing their immediate territory and surrounding waters.
While it could be argued that China was the worst off, since their most powerful Ship Girls were outdated gunships, at least they could rely on Japan to keep their seas clear. No, there was one nation that had significant issues.
The United States of America had jumped into the Ship Girl phenomenon with excitement and fervor. Although none of their Ship Girls were appearing of their own volition, once they had the summoning ritual, the United States Navy was ecstatic. Their surface Navy was sinking fast in the face of the Abyssal onslaught, but the advent of Ship Girls could bolster their numbers and secure the Pacific! After all, the United States Navy of the second World War spanned two oceans and was arguably the most powerful Naval force in the Pacific. Surely, with the assistance of their Ship Girls, the Navy could wipe aside the Abyssals and provide the final nail in the Abyssal's coffin that the world's navies had been steadily hammering at.
Their first summon shocked them all.
One of the most notable warships in the history of the United States... and utterly useless to the ongoing war effort.
The USS Monitor.
For some unfathomable reason, the venerable ships of the United States Navy would just not answer the call, at least not with any reliability. That isn't to say that none came, but just not with any regularity, and not in sufficient numbers.
With the few useful Ship Girls that they managed to summon, it was all the United States could do to secure their own territories. Their few Ship Girls were supported in combat by the USN's remaining surface vessels, mounting an effective defense... but it was just that, defense. No ships could be spared for offense. No ships were sent to assist other nations. The United States Navy did all it could just to survive.
Things gradually improved for the US, however, as more and more useful Ship Girls returned.
And you, the William D. Porter, happen to be one of them.
It's time to take the fight to the Abyssals.
It was an unsustainable war. A hopeless war. Entire island nations were forced into evacuation to spare them the war of genocide the Abyssals perpetrated.
Then the first Ship Girl arrived.
Risen from the depths like an avenging angel, the spirit of a battleship given Human form, she defended Japan from the sure death it faced at the hands of the Abyssals.
It was as if a dam had suddenly burst. All around the world, Ship Girls were appearing with alarming frequency. All appearing to embody the spirit of sunken warships, they stood with their countries and defended them from the oncoming swarm, protecting Humanity from the merciless Abyssals.
With further knowledge of summoning rituals, nations around the world encouraged the return of their Ship Girls, and began securing their immediate territory and surrounding waters.
While it could be argued that China was the worst off, since their most powerful Ship Girls were outdated gunships, at least they could rely on Japan to keep their seas clear. No, there was one nation that had significant issues.
The United States of America had jumped into the Ship Girl phenomenon with excitement and fervor. Although none of their Ship Girls were appearing of their own volition, once they had the summoning ritual, the United States Navy was ecstatic. Their surface Navy was sinking fast in the face of the Abyssal onslaught, but the advent of Ship Girls could bolster their numbers and secure the Pacific! After all, the United States Navy of the second World War spanned two oceans and was arguably the most powerful Naval force in the Pacific. Surely, with the assistance of their Ship Girls, the Navy could wipe aside the Abyssals and provide the final nail in the Abyssal's coffin that the world's navies had been steadily hammering at.
Their first summon shocked them all.
One of the most notable warships in the history of the United States... and utterly useless to the ongoing war effort.
The USS Monitor.
For some unfathomable reason, the venerable ships of the United States Navy would just not answer the call, at least not with any reliability. That isn't to say that none came, but just not with any regularity, and not in sufficient numbers.
With the few useful Ship Girls that they managed to summon, it was all the United States could do to secure their own territories. Their few Ship Girls were supported in combat by the USN's remaining surface vessels, mounting an effective defense... but it was just that, defense. No ships could be spared for offense. No ships were sent to assist other nations. The United States Navy did all it could just to survive.
Things gradually improved for the US, however, as more and more useful Ship Girls returned.
And you, the William D. Porter, happen to be one of them.
It's time to take the fight to the Abyssals.
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
The Hawaiian Islands slowly dipped below the horizon as you and your squadron sped away from your home for the past few months. You felt a sense of loss. Your Admiral had been kind, and your surroundings familiar. Now you were leaving for an unfamiliar land, somewhere where you didn't even speak the language! You hope that you got a good translator when you got there.
On the bright side, you hear that Japan is nice this time of year.
Adjusting your grip on your five inch turret, you marvel at how different it is to hold the thing in your hand than it was to have it mounted on your deck.
You also give your own Torpedo tubes a once over. Two mounts, with five 21-inch tubes each. Inside are the powerful Mark 15 Torpedoes. While their firepower are nothing to scoff at, you do note with a bit of envy that Japanese torpedoes have greater range, and are better overall.
Maybe you can convince them to give you some to play with.
You look up at your Flagship for this assignment, BB-61. The Iowa sails in the middle of your formation, her navy-blue dress uniform fluttering in the wind. She nervously eyes you as you mess with your torpedo tubes.
For god's sake, will she ever let you live that down? It was an honest accident!
Most of the harassment you suffered a Pearl Harbor was all due to Iowa! Honestly, the girl can hold a grudge.
She hasn't trained any of her 16-inch guns on you, though, so at least she's not that convinced you'll fire on her.
You hope.
Her 40mm Bofors and 20mm Oerlikon guns are present on her Equipment, clearly identifying her 1943 loadout. She does have another loadout, that being her 1984 equipment. The reason being that her original form was rearmed and sent out into combat a few years ago, only to be sunk. Iowa, to date, is the only USN Ship Girl to have returned without being summoned. By all witness accounts, one minute after she sank beneath the waves, smoke pouring from her torn hull, she broke the water's surface, respendent in her new body, right before sending an entire Abyssal Fleet to the bottom in a spray of 16 and 5-inch shells, accompanied by a finishing salvo of Tomahawks.
You do note though, with a bit of satisfaction, that she is hideously expensive to operate. If the United States had as little resources as Japan, Iowa would likely suffer the same fate as the "Hotel" Yamato.
But the USN can afford to keep her 1943 equipment running, so run she does. (Her 1984 equipment was being flown to Japan on a stealth bomber, so you heard.)
The next member of your group is CL-51, the name ship of the Atlanta-class Light Cruiser. Her own uniform is much more formal than Iowa's. Most USN Ship Girls were officers in the Navy, so they were not allowed the... freedom of wardrobe that other countries allowed their own Ship Girls. You're a bit envious at that. Your own uniform is a bit stiff.
Iowa gets a pass because reasons. You think that's unfair.
Atlanta notices your glance and gives you a reassuring smile. Atlanta is always nice to you. Well, relatively. She does subject you to light teasing, but she doesn't mean it.
You think.
She had a 5-inch dual mount in each hand, held at the ready but aimed at nothing.
Behind her, CVL-22 is fiddling with her rifle, which resembles an M1 Garand. Like the Langley, she uses a gun to launch her own planes. However, being a mere light Carrier, Independence carries a limited number of aircraft, some of which can be seen flying ahead.
On the other side of the formation is Mahan, DD-364. She isn't as modern as you, but you suppose that has just as many 5-inch guns as you do, and her 12 21-inch torpedo tubes are nothing to sneeze at. A somewhat expendable but reliable escort for this little group as any.
Then again, aren't all Destroyers expendable? You don't consider yourself to be, but then again, what else are you "Tin Cans" good for?
The formation sails in total silence for the better part of an hour, under strict radio silence.
...
But nothing is preventing you from talking.
"I'm bored," Atlanta finally says, sighing in exasperation, "Are we there yet?"
"Not even close," Iowa replies, adjusting her parasol to better block the sun's rays, "Nothing on radar or sonar either, so if you were looking for entertainment, you're out of luck."
"Well... can't we pass the time somehow?" Mahan speaks up timidly, "I mean, I'm not bored, but..."
"This is the Navy," Independence quips, landing a flight of Buffalos on her rather short flight deck, "Entertainment is not in the job description."
"No, I think we should pass the time somehow," Atlanta counters, and turns to you, "Porter, you got any ideas?"
{Options}
[] Sing! Sing Navy songs![] Target practice! Let loose some weather balloons and shoot them down!
[] Torpedo drills! Nothing can go wrong this time for sure!
[] Deliberately attract Abyssals. Fighting isn't boring, right?
[] Nothing. You're in the Navy, so you should act like it! Professionalism is the highest priority!
Omake- We are the Few [C]
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
- Location
- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Omake- We are the Few
Pearl Harbor-Two Months Ago (Before the "Ship Girl Windfall")
It was your first combat action. A large Abyssal fleet was detected heading for Pearl Harbor, so all the stops were pulled out. Every Ship Girl, and ship, was deployed for defense. Looking around at your sisters-in-arms, your heart fell.
You were so few in number. Iowa and Arizona were the only Battleships on station, and most of the Cruisers were Light Cruisers! They hung back, planning on providing AAA support.
There were quite a few Destroyers with you, forming the one and only DD pack. But the makeup was pitiful. The two most powerful ships in the group were you and Gearing. Most of the group was made up of Wickes (WICKES!) classes and a few Clemsons!
Thankfully, the lot of you didn't stand alone. Flanking the sides of the Ship Girl formation were two massive Arleigh Burke DDGs, and backing them up was one of the precious remaining Zumwalt-class Deestroyers.
Their long-range missiles and fire support would help stem the tide, but when it came down to it, this battle hinged on you and your sisters.
Your uniform was completely unfitting for this fight, but regulations were regulations. You tugged on your collar, which proclaimed your rank as a Commander in the United States Navy.
It was nothing to crow at. Iowa was a Captain! Cruisers and Battleships tended to be that. Destroyers were mere Commanders.
You were grateful that you even had rank. You heard that some other ship girls of other nations weren't even allowed a commission in their navies, merely listed on the register, back when they were mere tools of war.
"The Abyssals have entered maximum weapons range," the Admiral spoke from her flagship, the USS Zumwalt, "All ships capable of doing so, open fire!"
"Affirmative!" Iowa's missile launchers poked up over her back, spewing flame as their deadly payload arced up into the sky. The Arleigh Burkes and Zumwalt also responded, their own missiles lancing up into the sky and streaking off to their targets.
Overhead, modern jets screeched forward, missiles unloading and guns spinning up.
On the horizon, ships and planes burned, but the dark cloud grew steadily closer.
The modern warships continued firing their missiles, but their deck guns repositioned, acquiring their own targets.
Off to the side, Langley began firing her rifle, launching antiquated P-40s into the sky one at a time. An odd loadout for the Carrier, to be sure, but then again, they were not expected to land again.
"Abyssal Fleet has entered gunnery range!" the Admiral reported, "Fire at will! Move to engage!"
The Arleigh Burkes and the Zumwalt began to lurch forwards while you and your fellow Ship Girls surged forward.
Iowa's broadside was deafening, but you had other things on your mind.
"Alright, girls, time to show the Abyssals what we tin cans can do!" Gearing crowed, her dual 5-inch brandished with zeal, "Target is enemy Battleship! Let's send it to the bottom!"
You and your sisters called out affirmation as you all sped towards your target. An imposing battleship that looked like a mockery of a Ship Girl. It noticed you and your group, and turned to present her guns.
All around, the water spat geysers from near misses. You and the guns of your sisters responded with intermittent cracks, the weak armor-piercing shells doing little more than annoy the powerful creature.
A pained scream drew your attention, and you turned your head to view the horror that had been wrought.
One of the Wickes-class DDs had been hit. Her left arm was missing below the elbow, and her leg was riddled with shrapnel. Her torpedo tubes were burned and twisted into uselessness. Unable to keep up her speed, she drifted out of formation.
Your sister-in-arms let off one last defiant crack of her main gun, before the Battleship finished her off in a horrific conflagration of flame and shrapnel.
You didn't even know her name. You thought you'd get the chance later, so you had put it off.
"Keep moving!" Gearing ordered in a dignified rage, "We can avenge her, but only if we keep our cool! Stay on target!"
You maintained your speed and kept shooting. You weren't in torpedo range yet. Just a bit closer, a bit closer. Unlike Japanese torpedoes, you had to get up close and personal to fire these suckers.
Another girl was hit, but survived intact enough to retreat. You'll make it a point to learn her name later. You'll learn all their names.
"Torpedo range achieved!" Gearing shouted in triumph, "FIRE!"
With the innumerable puffs of launched torpedoes, the underwater missiles flew from your launchers and dove into the ocean, leaving bubble trails behind like the tail of a meteor.
The Abyssal tried to maneuver, but the spread was simply too large, too all-encompassing.
A few other Abyssal Cruisers moved to absorb the hits, but it was pointless. There were too many torpedoes in the water.
They all went up in a massive pillar of water and fire. A victory cheer arose from your group. You did it.
"It's not over yet, girls!" Gearing declared, reloading her torpedo tubes as she spoke, "Next target is that Wo-class Carrier, move it, move it!"
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
Victory.
But it didn't feel like it.
You lost two more of your sisters before the battle ended. Names you'd never learn, people you'd never get to know.
You weren't spared entirely, either. Your right arm was bleeding, hit with shrapnel from a near-miss. You'd need to spend time in the docks for this.
At least you proved your own combat skill, though. Despite your reputation, there was no way the Admiral would doubt you now. Sure, she had been polite, but the doubt was there, you could see. Now, though? Perhaps you could leave that behind now.
Limping back into port, you passed the sinking, flaming wreck of one of the Arleigh Burkes. It didn't survive the battle. One more ship the United States Navy couldn't spare in this god forsaken war.
As you neared the listing and smoking Zumwalt, you noticed an altercation near it.
"Damn you!" Iowa cursed at Langley, her number three turret blackened and warped, "Where was our air cover? Where were your planes? WE NEEDED THEM!"
"I'm sorry!" Langley gasped, close to tears herself, "I tried, but I'm just-... I'm..."
"Because of you, Arizona is-" Iowa was cut off when the report of a rifle sounded from the Zumwalt's deck.
"That's enough!" the Admiral shouted angrily at the two Ship Girls. You feel no small amount of concern when you see that her uniform is torn and her forehead bandaged, "Iowa, whatever greivance you have with Langley, you will keep your complaints to official channels! I will not have you brawling like sailors on shore leave! You're officers of the US Navy, act like it!"
Iowa hesitated, but tsked, turning away from the Carrier, muttering, "This would never have happened if Enterprise was here."
Eyes downcast, Langley trembled as Iowa steamed away.
"I'm....sorry," she choked out silently, "I'm so sorry..."
Looking around at the destruction, the disunity, and remembering all that was lost, you felt despair.
How could this war ever be won? All this from one battle? Losses irreplaceable, each a blow that could not be healed.
Where were your sisters? Where was everyone else? Enterprise? Johnston? Where were the heroes? Why were you all alone?
It would take a miracle to turn things around. A miracle that just did not seem to be forthcoming.
Pearl Harbor-Two Months Ago (Before the "Ship Girl Windfall")
It was your first combat action. A large Abyssal fleet was detected heading for Pearl Harbor, so all the stops were pulled out. Every Ship Girl, and ship, was deployed for defense. Looking around at your sisters-in-arms, your heart fell.
You were so few in number. Iowa and Arizona were the only Battleships on station, and most of the Cruisers were Light Cruisers! They hung back, planning on providing AAA support.
There were quite a few Destroyers with you, forming the one and only DD pack. But the makeup was pitiful. The two most powerful ships in the group were you and Gearing. Most of the group was made up of Wickes (WICKES!) classes and a few Clemsons!
Thankfully, the lot of you didn't stand alone. Flanking the sides of the Ship Girl formation were two massive Arleigh Burke DDGs, and backing them up was one of the precious remaining Zumwalt-class Deestroyers.
Their long-range missiles and fire support would help stem the tide, but when it came down to it, this battle hinged on you and your sisters.
Your uniform was completely unfitting for this fight, but regulations were regulations. You tugged on your collar, which proclaimed your rank as a Commander in the United States Navy.
It was nothing to crow at. Iowa was a Captain! Cruisers and Battleships tended to be that. Destroyers were mere Commanders.
You were grateful that you even had rank. You heard that some other ship girls of other nations weren't even allowed a commission in their navies, merely listed on the register, back when they were mere tools of war.
"The Abyssals have entered maximum weapons range," the Admiral spoke from her flagship, the USS Zumwalt, "All ships capable of doing so, open fire!"
"Affirmative!" Iowa's missile launchers poked up over her back, spewing flame as their deadly payload arced up into the sky. The Arleigh Burkes and Zumwalt also responded, their own missiles lancing up into the sky and streaking off to their targets.
Overhead, modern jets screeched forward, missiles unloading and guns spinning up.
On the horizon, ships and planes burned, but the dark cloud grew steadily closer.
The modern warships continued firing their missiles, but their deck guns repositioned, acquiring their own targets.
Off to the side, Langley began firing her rifle, launching antiquated P-40s into the sky one at a time. An odd loadout for the Carrier, to be sure, but then again, they were not expected to land again.
"Abyssal Fleet has entered gunnery range!" the Admiral reported, "Fire at will! Move to engage!"
The Arleigh Burkes and the Zumwalt began to lurch forwards while you and your fellow Ship Girls surged forward.
Iowa's broadside was deafening, but you had other things on your mind.
"Alright, girls, time to show the Abyssals what we tin cans can do!" Gearing crowed, her dual 5-inch brandished with zeal, "Target is enemy Battleship! Let's send it to the bottom!"
You and your sisters called out affirmation as you all sped towards your target. An imposing battleship that looked like a mockery of a Ship Girl. It noticed you and your group, and turned to present her guns.
All around, the water spat geysers from near misses. You and the guns of your sisters responded with intermittent cracks, the weak armor-piercing shells doing little more than annoy the powerful creature.
A pained scream drew your attention, and you turned your head to view the horror that had been wrought.
One of the Wickes-class DDs had been hit. Her left arm was missing below the elbow, and her leg was riddled with shrapnel. Her torpedo tubes were burned and twisted into uselessness. Unable to keep up her speed, she drifted out of formation.
Your sister-in-arms let off one last defiant crack of her main gun, before the Battleship finished her off in a horrific conflagration of flame and shrapnel.
You didn't even know her name. You thought you'd get the chance later, so you had put it off.
"Keep moving!" Gearing ordered in a dignified rage, "We can avenge her, but only if we keep our cool! Stay on target!"
You maintained your speed and kept shooting. You weren't in torpedo range yet. Just a bit closer, a bit closer. Unlike Japanese torpedoes, you had to get up close and personal to fire these suckers.
Another girl was hit, but survived intact enough to retreat. You'll make it a point to learn her name later. You'll learn all their names.
"Torpedo range achieved!" Gearing shouted in triumph, "FIRE!"
With the innumerable puffs of launched torpedoes, the underwater missiles flew from your launchers and dove into the ocean, leaving bubble trails behind like the tail of a meteor.
The Abyssal tried to maneuver, but the spread was simply too large, too all-encompassing.
A few other Abyssal Cruisers moved to absorb the hits, but it was pointless. There were too many torpedoes in the water.
They all went up in a massive pillar of water and fire. A victory cheer arose from your group. You did it.
"It's not over yet, girls!" Gearing declared, reloading her torpedo tubes as she spoke, "Next target is that Wo-class Carrier, move it, move it!"
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
Victory.
But it didn't feel like it.
You lost two more of your sisters before the battle ended. Names you'd never learn, people you'd never get to know.
You weren't spared entirely, either. Your right arm was bleeding, hit with shrapnel from a near-miss. You'd need to spend time in the docks for this.
At least you proved your own combat skill, though. Despite your reputation, there was no way the Admiral would doubt you now. Sure, she had been polite, but the doubt was there, you could see. Now, though? Perhaps you could leave that behind now.
Limping back into port, you passed the sinking, flaming wreck of one of the Arleigh Burkes. It didn't survive the battle. One more ship the United States Navy couldn't spare in this god forsaken war.
As you neared the listing and smoking Zumwalt, you noticed an altercation near it.
"Damn you!" Iowa cursed at Langley, her number three turret blackened and warped, "Where was our air cover? Where were your planes? WE NEEDED THEM!"
"I'm sorry!" Langley gasped, close to tears herself, "I tried, but I'm just-... I'm..."
"Because of you, Arizona is-" Iowa was cut off when the report of a rifle sounded from the Zumwalt's deck.
"That's enough!" the Admiral shouted angrily at the two Ship Girls. You feel no small amount of concern when you see that her uniform is torn and her forehead bandaged, "Iowa, whatever greivance you have with Langley, you will keep your complaints to official channels! I will not have you brawling like sailors on shore leave! You're officers of the US Navy, act like it!"
Iowa hesitated, but tsked, turning away from the Carrier, muttering, "This would never have happened if Enterprise was here."
Eyes downcast, Langley trembled as Iowa steamed away.
"I'm....sorry," she choked out silently, "I'm so sorry..."
Looking around at the destruction, the disunity, and remembering all that was lost, you felt despair.
How could this war ever be won? All this from one battle? Losses irreplaceable, each a blow that could not be healed.
Where were your sisters? Where was everyone else? Enterprise? Johnston? Where were the heroes? Why were you all alone?
It would take a miracle to turn things around. A miracle that just did not seem to be forthcoming.
2 - Musical Warships
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
- Location
- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Sing! Sing Navy songs!
Hm, what do you want to do? It's not as if there's all that many things to do in transit, and none of you have a portable media player.
You really should fix that.
...But just because you don't have a device to play music, doesn't mean you can't play music!
"Let's sing!" you answer hopefully, "Some of the songs our old crews used to sing! What about that?"
"...Eh?" Independence looks like she finds the idea distasteful, "If I remember correctly, weren't most of those songs just long and elaborate complaints about either us or our equipment?"
"No, there were a few that weren't!" you point out, thinking, "Although yes, most of them were complaints."
"We... We've only got this one complaint..." Mahan begins suddenly, but timidly, before gathering strength with a humorous twinkle in her eye, "She winds up where the target ain't!"
Mahan, Atlanata, and you (the only ships with torpedo launchers), chorus, "GOD BLESS THE DAMNED OLD STEAM TORPEDO!"
Being the instigator, Mahan leads the two of you through the entire song, and you find yourself laughing as you try and sing. This is fun, and even though Independence and Iowa aren't joining in, they aren't asking it to stop either.
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
"-and creak and groan, you son of a bitch! Oh boy it's a hell of a life on a destroyer!" Everyone except Independence sings, Iowa having given in n hour ago.
"The damn Tin Can destroyer was never meant for sea," Mahan's voice rings cheerfully, "You couldn't keep her steady in a lousy cup of tea! We carry guns, torpedoes, and ash cans in a bunch, but the only time we hit our mark is WHEN WE SHOOT OUR LUNCH!"
Mahan has a very pleasant voice, second only to Iowa. You and Atlanta have passable singing voices, but you're beginning to suspect that Independence just can't sing. She's mouthing the words, but isn't singing.
Hm.
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
It's been a few hours since you four sang yourselves hoarse. You take a much-needed sip of water from a canteen you brought with you. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, and it's getting dark. You were supposed to rendezvous with a Littoral Combat Ship, LCS-16 Tulsa, over an hour ago. It was supposed to be out here. It reported in just before you left. It's been dodging Abyssal Fleets for weeks, acting as a forward outpost for Ship Girls, even though this would be the first time it would be used.
Despite embodying the spirits of sunken warships, the fact is, in your new form, sleep is necessary. You can't sleep out in the middle of the ocean! That's liable to get you ambushed or worse! The idea was that you could sleep on Tulsa, refuel, and carry on... but where is Tulsa?
"I know I'm not the only one worried by the absence of the Tulsa," Independence breaks the silence, "My planes cannot find her either. Perhaps we should signal for her?"
"No," Iowa denies the request swiftly, "We're under strict radio silence! Under no circumstances are you to transmit any message!"
"Understood," Independence reluctantly nods.
"Hey, I don't know about you," Atlanta interjects, her features barely visible in the dying light, "But I don't want to be stuck out here in the dark!"
You collectively shudder. The Abyssals may not be the Imperial Japanese Navy, but they were deadly as sin at night battle, only surpassed by the Japanese Ship Girls.
Mahan is getting jumpy, eyes darting to every little perceived movement. You admit to yourself that you're not entirely comfortable either.
Once the sun sets, visibility will be reduced to what little light the moon provides. You're not sure that you really want to spend the night sailing, which is dangerous and risky, but if you can't find the Tulsa, that will be your only course of action.
....
You know that Iowa ordered you not to... indeed, your Admiral told you that you were all to maintain strict radio silence, but doesn't this qualify as a type of emergency?
Should you go ahead and call for Tulsa? But what if she doesn't hear it? Tulsa can travel much faster than you, so if she does hear, she can take you away from your location at record speed... but if she doesn't come, the Abyssals might.
[] Spend the night sailing.
Hm, what do you want to do? It's not as if there's all that many things to do in transit, and none of you have a portable media player.
You really should fix that.
...But just because you don't have a device to play music, doesn't mean you can't play music!
"Let's sing!" you answer hopefully, "Some of the songs our old crews used to sing! What about that?"
"...Eh?" Independence looks like she finds the idea distasteful, "If I remember correctly, weren't most of those songs just long and elaborate complaints about either us or our equipment?"
"No, there were a few that weren't!" you point out, thinking, "Although yes, most of them were complaints."
"We... We've only got this one complaint..." Mahan begins suddenly, but timidly, before gathering strength with a humorous twinkle in her eye, "She winds up where the target ain't!"
Mahan, Atlanata, and you (the only ships with torpedo launchers), chorus, "GOD BLESS THE DAMNED OLD STEAM TORPEDO!"
Being the instigator, Mahan leads the two of you through the entire song, and you find yourself laughing as you try and sing. This is fun, and even though Independence and Iowa aren't joining in, they aren't asking it to stop either.
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
"-and creak and groan, you son of a bitch! Oh boy it's a hell of a life on a destroyer!" Everyone except Independence sings, Iowa having given in n hour ago.
"The damn Tin Can destroyer was never meant for sea," Mahan's voice rings cheerfully, "You couldn't keep her steady in a lousy cup of tea! We carry guns, torpedoes, and ash cans in a bunch, but the only time we hit our mark is WHEN WE SHOOT OUR LUNCH!"
Mahan has a very pleasant voice, second only to Iowa. You and Atlanta have passable singing voices, but you're beginning to suspect that Independence just can't sing. She's mouthing the words, but isn't singing.
Hm.
[]-[]-[]-[DD-579]-[]-[]-[]
It's been a few hours since you four sang yourselves hoarse. You take a much-needed sip of water from a canteen you brought with you. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, and it's getting dark. You were supposed to rendezvous with a Littoral Combat Ship, LCS-16 Tulsa, over an hour ago. It was supposed to be out here. It reported in just before you left. It's been dodging Abyssal Fleets for weeks, acting as a forward outpost for Ship Girls, even though this would be the first time it would be used.
Despite embodying the spirits of sunken warships, the fact is, in your new form, sleep is necessary. You can't sleep out in the middle of the ocean! That's liable to get you ambushed or worse! The idea was that you could sleep on Tulsa, refuel, and carry on... but where is Tulsa?
"I know I'm not the only one worried by the absence of the Tulsa," Independence breaks the silence, "My planes cannot find her either. Perhaps we should signal for her?"
"No," Iowa denies the request swiftly, "We're under strict radio silence! Under no circumstances are you to transmit any message!"
"Understood," Independence reluctantly nods.
"Hey, I don't know about you," Atlanta interjects, her features barely visible in the dying light, "But I don't want to be stuck out here in the dark!"
You collectively shudder. The Abyssals may not be the Imperial Japanese Navy, but they were deadly as sin at night battle, only surpassed by the Japanese Ship Girls.
Mahan is getting jumpy, eyes darting to every little perceived movement. You admit to yourself that you're not entirely comfortable either.
Once the sun sets, visibility will be reduced to what little light the moon provides. You're not sure that you really want to spend the night sailing, which is dangerous and risky, but if you can't find the Tulsa, that will be your only course of action.
....
You know that Iowa ordered you not to... indeed, your Admiral told you that you were all to maintain strict radio silence, but doesn't this qualify as a type of emergency?
Should you go ahead and call for Tulsa? But what if she doesn't hear it? Tulsa can travel much faster than you, so if she does hear, she can take you away from your location at record speed... but if she doesn't come, the Abyssals might.
{Options}
[] Call for Tulsa.[] Spend the night sailing.
3 - Sailing under the Starry Skies
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
- Location
- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Spend the night sailing.
Your hand, which had been reaching for the radio on your equipment, falls back down to your side.
No, orders are orders, and you won't defy them. Your Admiral told you to sail under radio silence, so radio silence it will be.
Still, without the Tulsa, it's going to be a very rough night. You were looking forward to sleeping in a bed (well, a cot, but still!). It's not as if you can't make it all the way to Japan without it, but the rest and food it would have provided would have gone a long way to your personal comfort and well being. As it stands, by the time you get to Japan, your boilers will be running on fumes.
You wonder what happened to the Tulsa. It should have been here.
The five of you continue on in silence. Tension saturates the air, and Mahan looks progressively more and more unhitched as the night drags on.
All five of you have your radar active, the flat arrays spinning on your equipment, scanning the ocean for friend and foe.
Neither make an appearance.
At midnight, with only the moon and stars to light your way, Mahan suddenly stops, turning on her searchlights.
"USS Mahan!" Iowa hisses under her breath, screeching to a stop, "Turn off your searchlights this instant! What if we're spotted because of you?!"
"Tulsa should have been here, we shouldn't be sailing at night!" Mahan gasps, shaking like a leaf, "We need to go back, what if she's there now? I don't want to stay out here, we're not prepared for a night battle!"
"There won't be a night battle unless you don't turn off your goddamn searchlights!" Iowa snaps, "Do you want to make yourself a target for every Abyssal bomber out here?"
Mahan's lights pop off with a fearful, "Eep."
"Better," Iowa sighs, "Look, Mahan, I know you're scared, but we have to keep moving. It's our only choice."
"...Alright," Mahan steams forward, rejoining the formation as you all proceed.
The water is still, and the only noise is from the sound of your screws churning the water under you. Iowa looks forward with determination. Mahan is trembling, but otherwise holding together. Atlanta is trying very hard not to fall asleep.
Independence is asleep on her feet, but still managing to maintain formation.
Two more hours pass like that. It's tense, but uneventful.
Then, off in the distance, you hear the unmistakable sound of cannon fire. Your radar is having problems picking out individual signatures, but you can tell that there's a large concentration of ships towards the din of combat.
And you have no way of determining who is fighting whom.
The lot of you turn your rangefinders in the direction of the sounds, but it's too far away to see anything.
"What do we do?" Atlanta asks, her groggy behavior slowly fading.
"It's not our problem," Iowa replies after a moment's hesitation, "We'll pass right by. Whoever they are, they'll never know that we were here."
"But... shouldn't we do something?" Mahan speaks up, her voice shaky and expression haggard, "What if it's a civilian ship?"
"If it's civilian, then it's their own fault for coming out here," Iowa dismisses her concerns, "and if they're military, they're doing their duty. Come on, let's move."
You feel like you should say something, but nothing comes to mind.
The sounds of combat fade into the distance as you continue your course.
All this running, it's starting to gnaw at you.
Wasn't the whole point of coming out here to take the fight to the enemy? Sure, all you'll end up doing is working with the Japanese Ship Girls, but even so, what was the point if you don't even try and help those who are right in front of you?
As the sun begins to rise, it's all for naught.
In the distance, a lone Abyssal plane is seen zipping around. It gets a good look at your group before dipping back below the horizon.
"Shit," Iowa curses. It was never in range, and the moment Independence launched her own birds, the damn thing fled, "General Quarters, I think we can expect company."
"An air attack?" Atlanta smirks, gripping her dual 5-inchs, "Sounds like my kind of game."
"You don't think there'll be kamikazes," Mahan asks unsteadily, "Do you?"
"I wouldn't rule it out," you reply, but then quickly amend when you see her distress, "but Abyssals aren't known for that kind of behavior. You'll be fine, Mahan."
"I hope so," she readies her own guns.
You check your position quickly. You're actually fairly close to Midway. If you make a run for it, perhaps you and the others could hide and wait out the Abyssals? That is, if Iowa takes your suggestion seriously. If not, you'll have to stay and fight, and no matter how good Atlanta's AAA suite is, some bombs and torpedoes will get through. There will be casualties. This is why Tulsa was so important, she could have outrun any Abyssal strike force... but now it's either hide or fight.
Damn it.
[] Why bother? She'll just ignore you.
[] Go to Midway. Tell the others your intention and invite them to follow you, then leave anyways.
[] Radio silence is no longer relevant. Broadcast distress messages.
Your hand, which had been reaching for the radio on your equipment, falls back down to your side.
No, orders are orders, and you won't defy them. Your Admiral told you to sail under radio silence, so radio silence it will be.
Still, without the Tulsa, it's going to be a very rough night. You were looking forward to sleeping in a bed (well, a cot, but still!). It's not as if you can't make it all the way to Japan without it, but the rest and food it would have provided would have gone a long way to your personal comfort and well being. As it stands, by the time you get to Japan, your boilers will be running on fumes.
You wonder what happened to the Tulsa. It should have been here.
The five of you continue on in silence. Tension saturates the air, and Mahan looks progressively more and more unhitched as the night drags on.
All five of you have your radar active, the flat arrays spinning on your equipment, scanning the ocean for friend and foe.
Neither make an appearance.
At midnight, with only the moon and stars to light your way, Mahan suddenly stops, turning on her searchlights.
"USS Mahan!" Iowa hisses under her breath, screeching to a stop, "Turn off your searchlights this instant! What if we're spotted because of you?!"
"Tulsa should have been here, we shouldn't be sailing at night!" Mahan gasps, shaking like a leaf, "We need to go back, what if she's there now? I don't want to stay out here, we're not prepared for a night battle!"
"There won't be a night battle unless you don't turn off your goddamn searchlights!" Iowa snaps, "Do you want to make yourself a target for every Abyssal bomber out here?"
Mahan's lights pop off with a fearful, "Eep."
"Better," Iowa sighs, "Look, Mahan, I know you're scared, but we have to keep moving. It's our only choice."
"...Alright," Mahan steams forward, rejoining the formation as you all proceed.
The water is still, and the only noise is from the sound of your screws churning the water under you. Iowa looks forward with determination. Mahan is trembling, but otherwise holding together. Atlanta is trying very hard not to fall asleep.
Independence is asleep on her feet, but still managing to maintain formation.
Two more hours pass like that. It's tense, but uneventful.
Then, off in the distance, you hear the unmistakable sound of cannon fire. Your radar is having problems picking out individual signatures, but you can tell that there's a large concentration of ships towards the din of combat.
And you have no way of determining who is fighting whom.
The lot of you turn your rangefinders in the direction of the sounds, but it's too far away to see anything.
"What do we do?" Atlanta asks, her groggy behavior slowly fading.
"It's not our problem," Iowa replies after a moment's hesitation, "We'll pass right by. Whoever they are, they'll never know that we were here."
"But... shouldn't we do something?" Mahan speaks up, her voice shaky and expression haggard, "What if it's a civilian ship?"
"If it's civilian, then it's their own fault for coming out here," Iowa dismisses her concerns, "and if they're military, they're doing their duty. Come on, let's move."
You feel like you should say something, but nothing comes to mind.
The sounds of combat fade into the distance as you continue your course.
All this running, it's starting to gnaw at you.
Wasn't the whole point of coming out here to take the fight to the enemy? Sure, all you'll end up doing is working with the Japanese Ship Girls, but even so, what was the point if you don't even try and help those who are right in front of you?
As the sun begins to rise, it's all for naught.
In the distance, a lone Abyssal plane is seen zipping around. It gets a good look at your group before dipping back below the horizon.
"Shit," Iowa curses. It was never in range, and the moment Independence launched her own birds, the damn thing fled, "General Quarters, I think we can expect company."
"An air attack?" Atlanta smirks, gripping her dual 5-inchs, "Sounds like my kind of game."
"You don't think there'll be kamikazes," Mahan asks unsteadily, "Do you?"
"I wouldn't rule it out," you reply, but then quickly amend when you see her distress, "but Abyssals aren't known for that kind of behavior. You'll be fine, Mahan."
"I hope so," she readies her own guns.
You check your position quickly. You're actually fairly close to Midway. If you make a run for it, perhaps you and the others could hide and wait out the Abyssals? That is, if Iowa takes your suggestion seriously. If not, you'll have to stay and fight, and no matter how good Atlanta's AAA suite is, some bombs and torpedoes will get through. There will be casualties. This is why Tulsa was so important, she could have outrun any Abyssal strike force... but now it's either hide or fight.
Damn it.
{Options}
[] Tell Iowa your idea.[] Why bother? She'll just ignore you.
[] Go to Midway. Tell the others your intention and invite them to follow you, then leave anyways.
[] Radio silence is no longer relevant. Broadcast distress messages.
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4 - Our Planes will Darken the Skies
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
- Location
- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[x] Tell Iowa and the rest of the division your idea.
You could stay quiet. Iowa would probably like that... but you can't! If your idea can save all of you, then you have to speak up!
"Everyone," you call out, drawing their attention, and in Iowa's case, ire, "Midway is close enough that if we make a run for it, we can reach it before the Abyssal's planes get here!"
"You want us to beach ourselves?" Iowa gives you an incredulous glare, "Are you an idiot? We won't be able to maneuver, and those dive bombers will be all over us!"
"...Maybe so," Atlanta interjects, eyes on the horizon, "but the Abyssals won't be able to send torpedo bombers at us if we do so. Sinking won't be as much of an issue, Iowa."
"I don't fancy making myself a sitting duck," your flagship shakes her head, "We're pretty damn maneuverable, just dodge incoming torpedoes. I'm the slowest to turn out of you all, I should be the most concerned, but I have faith that we can pull through!"
"If we really move, we can get there soon enough to hide!" you argue worriedly, "Please, Iowa! We don't know the enemy's composition. For all we know, an entire fleet's worth of carriers could be about to launch their planes at us! We don't have a hope of fending off that many planes if that's the case!"
"We'll know the attacking force's makeup long before we see them," Iowa gestures to her radar, "I'm not concerned."
"Even so," you insist, "Shouldn't we at least try to move towards Midway in case someone gets hit and begins flooding? Then anyone who's injured can beach themselves so that we can effect repairs!"
"Midway is a desolate rock," Iowa scoffs, "It has been since the Abyssals took it over, and it still is even after the Jap Ship Girls bombed it into oblivion. We end up there, we'll just be stranding ourselves! You think little Mahan has enough fuel to afford that detour? We're already going to be towing her the last legs of this trip!"
Mahan looks conflicted. She doesn't want to be stuck out here when the Abyssals strike, but she knows her own capabilities...
"Argue if you want," Independence suddenly states calmly, loading a clip of yellow bullets into her rifle, "But I'm going to prepare for battle. Midway or the ocean, we're going to fight."
She begins launching flights of F2A Buffalos while you and Iowa stare each other down.
"We aren't moving," Iowa answers with finality, "That is my order to all of you. Prepare for combat. We will repel the enemy as they come, without changing course. We stop for no one."
"This is a mistake," you finish, "I wish for my protest to be noted."
"It shall be," Fairies begin running all over Iowa's rigging, activating her AAA guns, "And you'll look like a fool once we drive these bastards off."
Cleveland and Iowa's scout planes roar into the air. Cleveland trains her guns on the horizon, loaded with flak shells no doubt. Iowa's own massive cannons swing around to point at where the enemy will come from. Mahan has quickly loaded her own gun and steels herself for the fight.
A little fairy crawls up your arm, salutes you, and crawls into the 5-inch turret. You're ready for a fight.
The five of you steam onwards in tense silence, waiting for the ball to drop. Then, Iowa spots it on the horizon with her rangefinders, the reports of the scouts and radar readings not doing it justice.
"Mother of god..." Iowa pales, looking like a deer caught in headlights. It takes almost a minute for your own inferior rangefinders to see it, but the sight makes you blanch.
A good portion of the horizon is solid black, the monstrous Abyssal planes buzzing forward in numbers enough to obscure the sky behind them.
"...Can we still make it to Midway?" Atlanta asks shakily, clearly unsettled by the oncoming swarm.
"No... Indy is too slow," Iowa glances at the light carrier with regret, "As it is, just you and me would barely make it, Atlanta."
"...You do not have to stay for me," Independence looks down in resignation, "It is better if you leave. I will provide a distraction and slow them down enough for you to reach safety."
"Like hell we're leaving you!" Atlanta suddenly glares at Independence, "Don't pull this sacrificial bullshit!"
Iowa looks torn, and Mahan indecisive. Where do you stand? Can you leave Independence in good conscience; for the greater good, or do you stand and fight for your comrade, although it may only end with five more wrecks beneath the waves?
[] Voice your support of Atlanta. You already left someone behind once, you won't leave a sister-in-arms to the mercy of the Abyssals. You stand and fight with Independence and Atlanta. Anyone who doesn't like it can leave, you'll buy them time to flee.
[] Write in...
You could stay quiet. Iowa would probably like that... but you can't! If your idea can save all of you, then you have to speak up!
"Everyone," you call out, drawing their attention, and in Iowa's case, ire, "Midway is close enough that if we make a run for it, we can reach it before the Abyssal's planes get here!"
"You want us to beach ourselves?" Iowa gives you an incredulous glare, "Are you an idiot? We won't be able to maneuver, and those dive bombers will be all over us!"
"...Maybe so," Atlanta interjects, eyes on the horizon, "but the Abyssals won't be able to send torpedo bombers at us if we do so. Sinking won't be as much of an issue, Iowa."
"I don't fancy making myself a sitting duck," your flagship shakes her head, "We're pretty damn maneuverable, just dodge incoming torpedoes. I'm the slowest to turn out of you all, I should be the most concerned, but I have faith that we can pull through!"
"If we really move, we can get there soon enough to hide!" you argue worriedly, "Please, Iowa! We don't know the enemy's composition. For all we know, an entire fleet's worth of carriers could be about to launch their planes at us! We don't have a hope of fending off that many planes if that's the case!"
"We'll know the attacking force's makeup long before we see them," Iowa gestures to her radar, "I'm not concerned."
"Even so," you insist, "Shouldn't we at least try to move towards Midway in case someone gets hit and begins flooding? Then anyone who's injured can beach themselves so that we can effect repairs!"
"Midway is a desolate rock," Iowa scoffs, "It has been since the Abyssals took it over, and it still is even after the Jap Ship Girls bombed it into oblivion. We end up there, we'll just be stranding ourselves! You think little Mahan has enough fuel to afford that detour? We're already going to be towing her the last legs of this trip!"
Mahan looks conflicted. She doesn't want to be stuck out here when the Abyssals strike, but she knows her own capabilities...
"Argue if you want," Independence suddenly states calmly, loading a clip of yellow bullets into her rifle, "But I'm going to prepare for battle. Midway or the ocean, we're going to fight."
She begins launching flights of F2A Buffalos while you and Iowa stare each other down.
"We aren't moving," Iowa answers with finality, "That is my order to all of you. Prepare for combat. We will repel the enemy as they come, without changing course. We stop for no one."
"This is a mistake," you finish, "I wish for my protest to be noted."
"It shall be," Fairies begin running all over Iowa's rigging, activating her AAA guns, "And you'll look like a fool once we drive these bastards off."
Cleveland and Iowa's scout planes roar into the air. Cleveland trains her guns on the horizon, loaded with flak shells no doubt. Iowa's own massive cannons swing around to point at where the enemy will come from. Mahan has quickly loaded her own gun and steels herself for the fight.
A little fairy crawls up your arm, salutes you, and crawls into the 5-inch turret. You're ready for a fight.
The five of you steam onwards in tense silence, waiting for the ball to drop. Then, Iowa spots it on the horizon with her rangefinders, the reports of the scouts and radar readings not doing it justice.
"Mother of god..." Iowa pales, looking like a deer caught in headlights. It takes almost a minute for your own inferior rangefinders to see it, but the sight makes you blanch.
A good portion of the horizon is solid black, the monstrous Abyssal planes buzzing forward in numbers enough to obscure the sky behind them.
"...Can we still make it to Midway?" Atlanta asks shakily, clearly unsettled by the oncoming swarm.
"No... Indy is too slow," Iowa glances at the light carrier with regret, "As it is, just you and me would barely make it, Atlanta."
"...You do not have to stay for me," Independence looks down in resignation, "It is better if you leave. I will provide a distraction and slow them down enough for you to reach safety."
"Like hell we're leaving you!" Atlanta suddenly glares at Independence, "Don't pull this sacrificial bullshit!"
Iowa looks torn, and Mahan indecisive. Where do you stand? Can you leave Independence in good conscience; for the greater good, or do you stand and fight for your comrade, although it may only end with five more wrecks beneath the waves?
{Options}
[] Voice your support for heading to Midway. It was your idea in the first place and is still your best chance for survival. As much as you hate to say it, Iowa needs to survive. Her loss would be an irreparable blow to the USN, and render this mission a failure.
[] Voice your support of Atlanta. You already left someone behind once, you won't leave a sister-in-arms to the mercy of the Abyssals. You stand and fight with Independence and Atlanta. Anyone who doesn't like it can leave, you'll buy them time to flee.
[] Write in...
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5 - We Fight in the Shade
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
- Location
- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Notes: Although I use http://www.brockjones.com/dieroller/dice.htm I've been thinking about making a rolzroom... would that be better? I'm more familiar with what I use right now, though.
Also, @Dirtnap contacted me and informed me how the evasion rolls worked just as I was finishing the update, so I kept what I wrote because it's better drama.
However, my botched understanding of the system really put you and your little fleet through the wringer. No safety nets either.
So after an explanation from Dirtnap, I now know how to run this battle system properly. But I really don't feel like rewriting the update, because I simply don't have the time, unless you want to wait until Thursday.
So I'll just spare you the consequences this time, because I was running the combat mechanics incorrectly.
My apologies.
I also misinterpreted the air combat system, relegating the stats to individual planes than entire squadrons... oops.
[X] Voice your support of Atlanta. You already left someone behind once, you won't leave a sister-in-arms to the mercy of the Abyssals. You stand and fight with Independence and Atlanta. Anyone who doesn't like it can leave, you'll buy them time to flee.
-[X] We are in a sticky situation anyways. Break radio silences call for help while trying to defend. With any luck someone will come to our aid.
You close your eyes, gathering your resolve.
You've never been timid or clumsy. You've never shirked from duty or fled from a fight. Your reputation is ill-deserved, and despite what others may seem to think, you are as deadly as any of your sister ships.
So you won't run now. You won't validate anyone's doubts of you. If you go down swinging, buying time for Iowa to escape, if you sink in defense of your sisters-in-arms, then maybe you'll finally cast off the tainted past of the William D. Porter. Maybe you'll carve out a place in history for yourself, right alongside heroes like the ships of Taffy 3.
"I won't run," you speak, fists clenched and eyes determined, "We already left someone behind. I don't know who, but I'll be damned if I leave my friends and comrades to the mercy of these Abyssal bastards."
You stand tall, gaze forward and unwavering, "I'll stay and fight with you, Independence, Atlanta. I can help. Anyone who doesn't like that doesn't have to stay... we'll buy you time to leave."
"I..." Mahan's gaze hardens, and she grips her cannon tightly, "I'm staying too, Porter! I'll help!"
The four of you then turn to look at Iowa, who looks like you've all grown an extra head.
But her expression softens, and she lets out a nervous chuckle, "Hell, you're all going to stay and fight? You're crazy... but I don't suppose it would be very patriotic of me to run and abandon you all."
She cracks her knuckles, an excited grin spreading the corners of her mouth, "Alright, then! Let's do this! With the lot of you acting this cool, you better pull through! If you sink on me, I'm going to drag you from the ocean floor so that I can sink you again myself!"
The anticipation of the inevitable battle rises. This is happening, this is really happening.
"I'm going to call for help," you say, activating your radio, "Radio silence is a bit moot at the moment."
Iowa says nothing in response, giving you her silent permission.
"This is William D. Porter of the United States Navy, calling any ship within range," you broadcast on all friendly and encrypted frequencies, "Lion Group has been detected by the enemy. Overwhelming Abyssal aerial strike force in bound. Requesting aid and assistance. Our coordinates are-"
You broadcast on constant repeat as the Abyssal planes grow ever closer, their roar becoming audible as a distant droning buzz.
"My planes have engaged the enemy!" Independence reports as her relatively few 12 Buffalos throw themselves against the solid mass of Abyssal craft.
"Let's throw everything we've got at these fuckers!" Atlanta declares passionately, her turrets adjusting their firing angle.
Your own 5-inch whirs as the little turret turns and shifts its orientation.
"FIRE!" Iowa orders at the top of her lungs, and a storm of AAA fire roars into the sky, larger shells screaming alongside the thousands of other smaller munitions.
Independence's planes make a good showing, but they all plummet from the sky as roiling fireballs with streaking tails of pitch.
Abyssal plane after Abyssal plane are swatted from the air, spinning out of control or wiped out of existence by the torrent of fire opposing them, but even as they are slaughtered in mind-numbing numbers, some make it through. Many make it through. They all bear down on you, engines screeching with an unearthly wail.
"Evasive!" Iowa screams, her screws tearing up the water under her, "Dodge, fucking dodge!"
Your own turbines scream as you push their limits, zigzagging through the water in an effort to throw off the dive bomber's aim.
They release their deadly payloads. Black bombs fall like raindrops.
All around you and the others, geysers erupt in the water where the bombs miss their mark. Mahan and Atlanta emerge from the pillars of water unscathed. However, Independence winces in pain as one impacts her flight deck, cratering it. Iowa cries out as her number three turret explodes into fragments, nailed by a bomb. You gasp in shock and agony as you feel one blow your smoke stack clean off in a crimson conflagration. It sets off a chain reaction on some of your AA guns, detonating their ammunition which tears even more of your rigging off your back, throwing it into the ocean. The pain is agonizing, but you pull yourself together; this isn't over yet.
Then the torpedo bombers drop their own contributions.
From all sides, underwater comets with trails of bubbles tear towards you and your sisters.
"Torpedoes!" Mahan calls out unnecessarily as she swerves to dodge them. Everyone does so.
Twisting and weaving, you cheer as every single torpedo misses you. Good, one hit would have been enough to sink a little Destroyer like you.
Atlanta catches a few as she tried to turn into them, staggering as she sinks a little bit lower into the water.
It stops at her knees, though, leaving her gasping in exertion and no small amount of pain. She has the flooding under control. Good.
Independence is hit by a single torpedo, and winces as she sinks a bit lower in the water. However, she survives, smirking slightly at her accomplishment.
Iowa catches almost a full spread, sustaining a considerable amount of damage. She barely reacted, and doesn't sink much, however. She looks mortified, but her armor protected her.
Mahan turns to avoid a torpedo, then her eyes widen in fear and terror as she realizes that she's just turned into the path of one last torpedo, and there's no time to change course.
She faces you and reaches out in desperation, as if you could do something.
"PORTE-" and she's swallowed up by a pillar of water.
Eyes fixed on the horror, you rush at her at your maximum speed, screaming at the top of your lungs, "MAHAN!"
The water falls back to the surface of the ocean, and you grab at the mangled destroyer with your hands, your turret tossed aside in the heat of the moment (a fairy scrambles out of the discarded cannon, life vest worn).
"Mahan!" you struggle to keep her above water. She's so heavy! The water darkens with red around the two of you. Her legs are obscured and distorted through the water, but you're fairly certain that she no longer has legs below the thighs.
She's limp as you strain to hold onto her. Her eyes are closed, and she's not breathing. Her boilers are silent, no smoke issues from her rigging.
Her weight is dragging you down. Your own legs sinking beneath the waves.
"No," you gaps as the water threatens to swallow her entirely, "No! MAHAN!"
"Hold on!" Atlanta shouts in a panic, grabbing ahold of you and Mahan, even though she herself is low in the water, "I won't let you two go!"
Independence wordlessly pulls up alongside and grips Mahan's shoulder, determination etched on her features.
Iowa seizes one of the straps securing Mahan's rigging to her back, "Don't sink on me!" she yells in anger and hopeless frustration, "That's an order, Mahan! You hear me? AN ORDER!"
The little Destroyer's descent is halted as everyone holds onto the flooded ship, hoping that they can save her. You hope that you can save her. She didn't deserve this.
The remaining anti-aircraft guns among you increase their chattering, and you all see the Abyssal planes regroup like a swarm of wasps, gearing up to strafe the gathered lot of you.
"...We..." Iowa swallows nervously, "We need to move."
"NO!" you balk at the suggestion, "I'm not leaving Mahan!"
"We need to move!" Iowa shouts, but doesn't let go of Mahan.
Your AAA fire continues unabated, but the planes do not fall fast enough. They get closer... and are clearly on a collision course.
They're going to kamikaze.
You hold onto Mahan as tight as you can. You can't die here, she can't die here! This can't possibly be it!
"Looks like you girls could use a hand."
You start at the voice over the radio as a number of missiles slam into most of the remaining Abyssal planes, sending them spiraling into the ocean as disintegrating wrecks.
Swooping into the area at top speed, the USS Tulsa fires its main gun, blasting the second-to-last bomber into flaming chunks. The last one swerves towards the LCS, cannon chattering and stitching a line up the side of the vessel. The LCS's CIWS sprays at the aggressor, unfortunately missing. As one last defiant act, the Abyssal plunges into the warship's cannon, annihilating it in a modest explosion.
"Get her to the Tulsa!" Iowa orders suddenly, snapping the rest of you out of your momentary shock. As one, you all drag the flooded Destroyer towards the LCS.
As you approach your savior, you note the extensive battle damage on the Tulsa, mostly old. The armor has been patched recently, although fresh wounds have been inflicted on the vessel. Craters from bomb impacts and such. She's been through a hell of a beating.
Steaming towards the starboard side of the ship, you make for the ramp that has been lowered for boarding.
Both you, Iowa, and Independence haul Mahan's still body on board while Atlanta crawls onto the ramp.
Immediately, Iowa lifts Mahan in her arms and stomps towards the naval officer that's come to greet the five of you.
"Where are the docks?!" she demands of the man, who sputters a reply. Her answer in hand, she runs as fast as she can into the ship itself.
You stagger after her. You need to know if Mahan will be all right. Nervous, friendly little Mahan.
Bursting into the docks, which is a large module installed into the mission bay, Iowa kneels down next to one of what appears to be a bathtub, but is actually a dock for Ship Girls. It's where you repair from damage sustained in combat. And right now, it's Mahan's only hope.
Iowa gently lowers the Destroyer into the water, her face stricken. You hold your breath as you watch Mahan for any sign of life. The water tints slightly from Mahan's blood.
A minute passes, and Iowa's expression darkens.
She mouths, "My fault," before moving to leave.
Then Mahan gasps.
The two of you freeze and are instantly at her side as she takes gasping, unsteady breath after unsteady breath.
"...Thank goodness," Iowa sags, relief evident as she smiles slightly.
You're speechless. You thought Mahan was gone. She nearly had been. If it hadn't been for you, she would have slipped beneath the waves, leaving no trace that she ever existed.
You've barely known the name ship of the Mahan-class long, but you're so glad that you'll have more time to get to know her.
You're not at all ashamed to admit that you're beginning to bawl in a manner completely undignified for an officer of the US Navy. They're tears of relief and joy, however. They could have easily been something else.
"I'll... I'll ask the Captain if they have any Instant Repair Buckets in storage," Iowa gets up to leave, "Look after her, will you, Porter?"
You nod, sniffling, as you clasp Mahan's hand tightly. It's getting warmer. She's alive. She isn't sunk. That's all that matters at the moment.
All that matters.
[] Mahan will be fine. See to the others. Atlanta also needs help.
[] Use a dock. You're damaged, and need repairs.
[] Write in...
Also, @Dirtnap contacted me and informed me how the evasion rolls worked just as I was finishing the update, so I kept what I wrote because it's better drama.
However, my botched understanding of the system really put you and your little fleet through the wringer. No safety nets either.
So after an explanation from Dirtnap, I now know how to run this battle system properly. But I really don't feel like rewriting the update, because I simply don't have the time, unless you want to wait until Thursday.
So I'll just spare you the consequences this time, because I was running the combat mechanics incorrectly.
My apologies.
I also misinterpreted the air combat system, relegating the stats to individual planes than entire squadrons... oops.
[X] Voice your support of Atlanta. You already left someone behind once, you won't leave a sister-in-arms to the mercy of the Abyssals. You stand and fight with Independence and Atlanta. Anyone who doesn't like it can leave, you'll buy them time to flee.
-[X] We are in a sticky situation anyways. Break radio silences call for help while trying to defend. With any luck someone will come to our aid.
You close your eyes, gathering your resolve.
You've never been timid or clumsy. You've never shirked from duty or fled from a fight. Your reputation is ill-deserved, and despite what others may seem to think, you are as deadly as any of your sister ships.
So you won't run now. You won't validate anyone's doubts of you. If you go down swinging, buying time for Iowa to escape, if you sink in defense of your sisters-in-arms, then maybe you'll finally cast off the tainted past of the William D. Porter. Maybe you'll carve out a place in history for yourself, right alongside heroes like the ships of Taffy 3.
"I won't run," you speak, fists clenched and eyes determined, "We already left someone behind. I don't know who, but I'll be damned if I leave my friends and comrades to the mercy of these Abyssal bastards."
You stand tall, gaze forward and unwavering, "I'll stay and fight with you, Independence, Atlanta. I can help. Anyone who doesn't like that doesn't have to stay... we'll buy you time to leave."
"I..." Mahan's gaze hardens, and she grips her cannon tightly, "I'm staying too, Porter! I'll help!"
The four of you then turn to look at Iowa, who looks like you've all grown an extra head.
But her expression softens, and she lets out a nervous chuckle, "Hell, you're all going to stay and fight? You're crazy... but I don't suppose it would be very patriotic of me to run and abandon you all."
She cracks her knuckles, an excited grin spreading the corners of her mouth, "Alright, then! Let's do this! With the lot of you acting this cool, you better pull through! If you sink on me, I'm going to drag you from the ocean floor so that I can sink you again myself!"
The anticipation of the inevitable battle rises. This is happening, this is really happening.
"I'm going to call for help," you say, activating your radio, "Radio silence is a bit moot at the moment."
Iowa says nothing in response, giving you her silent permission.
"This is William D. Porter of the United States Navy, calling any ship within range," you broadcast on all friendly and encrypted frequencies, "Lion Group has been detected by the enemy. Overwhelming Abyssal aerial strike force in bound. Requesting aid and assistance. Our coordinates are-"
You broadcast on constant repeat as the Abyssal planes grow ever closer, their roar becoming audible as a distant droning buzz.
"My planes have engaged the enemy!" Independence reports as her relatively few 12 Buffalos throw themselves against the solid mass of Abyssal craft.
"Let's throw everything we've got at these fuckers!" Atlanta declares passionately, her turrets adjusting their firing angle.
Your own 5-inch whirs as the little turret turns and shifts its orientation.
"FIRE!" Iowa orders at the top of her lungs, and a storm of AAA fire roars into the sky, larger shells screaming alongside the thousands of other smaller munitions.
Enemy Forces
27 Locust Mk.1 - 108
40 Wraith Mk.1 - 40
Total AA Score: 148
Friendly Forces
12 Buffalo - 60
William D. Porter - 10
Mahan - 8
Atlanta - 35
Independence - 15
Iowa - 25
Total AA Score: 153
Friendly AA superior. Enemy bombing run reduced to 25% effectiveness.
Enemy Locust strike:
Enemy Wraith Strike:
Total damage: 879
Enemy bombing run reduced to 25% effectiveness!
Effective damage total: 219.75
Per Ship: 43.95
Now the evasion rolls...
TEMPORARY EVASION SYSTEM: 5 and above affords a 50% damage reduction. 10 and above affords a 75% damage reduction. 15 and above grants full evasion. Resulting number shall be rounded to nearest whole.
William D. Porter:
1d20 = 11
Result: 75% damage reduction
Total Damage Sustained: 10.98-1= 10 Damage
HP: 6/16
Atlanta:
Rolling 1d15
( 5 ) = 5
Result: 50% damage reduction
Total Damage Sustained: 21.97-5= 17
HP: 8/25
Mahan:
1d20 = 9
Result: 50% damage reduction
Total Damage Sustained: 21.97-1= 21
HP: 0/14
SUNK
Independence:
Rolling 1d15
( 12 ) = 12
Result: 75% damage reduction
Total Damage Sustained: 10.98-3= 8
HP: 20/28
Iowa:
Rolling 1d7
( 4 ) = 4
Result: NO DAMAGE REDUCTION
Total Damage Sustained: 43.95-24= 20
HP: 76/96
27 Locust Mk.1 - 108
40 Wraith Mk.1 - 40
Total AA Score: 148
Friendly Forces
12 Buffalo - 60
William D. Porter - 10
Mahan - 8
Atlanta - 35
Independence - 15
Iowa - 25
Total AA Score: 153
Friendly AA superior. Enemy bombing run reduced to 25% effectiveness.
Enemy Locust strike:
27 * ( 2d5 + 2 )
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 2 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 3 ) + 2 = 10
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 2 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 4 + 3 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 5 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 4 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 4 + 2 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 1 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 1 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 1 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 4 + 1 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 2 + 4 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 1 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 4 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 2 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 4 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 2 ) + 2 = 5
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 4 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 2 + 5 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 4 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 4 ) + 2 = 11
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 3 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 2 + 3 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 2 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 4 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 1 ) + 2 = 4
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 4 + 5 ) + 2 = 11
----
( 9 + 10 + 9 + 9 + 8 + 9 + 8 + 8 + 8 + 8 + 7 + 8 + 8 + 7 + 7 + 7 + 5 + 9 + 9 + 9 + 11 + 8 + 7 + 7 + 9 + 4 + 11 ) = 219
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 2 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 3 ) + 2 = 10
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 2 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 4 + 3 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 5 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 4 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 4 + 2 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 1 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 1 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 1 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 4 + 1 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 2 + 4 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 1 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 4 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 2 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 4 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 2 ) + 2 = 5
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 4 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 2 + 5 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 4 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 5 + 4 ) + 2 = 11
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 3 ) + 2 = 8
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 2 + 3 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 2 ) + 2 = 7
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 3 + 4 ) + 2 = 9
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 1 + 1 ) + 2 = 4
Rolling 2d5 + 2
( 4 + 5 ) + 2 = 11
----
( 9 + 10 + 9 + 9 + 8 + 9 + 8 + 8 + 8 + 8 + 7 + 8 + 8 + 7 + 7 + 7 + 5 + 9 + 9 + 9 + 11 + 8 + 7 + 7 + 9 + 4 + 11 ) = 219
40 * ( 2d10 + 6 )
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 3 + 2 ) + 6 = 11
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 8 ) + 6 = 18
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 9 + 7 ) + 6 = 22
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 7 ) + 6 = 18
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 6 ) + 6 = 13
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 8 + 8 ) + 6 = 22
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 10 ) + 6 = 21
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 10 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 6 + 4 ) + 6 = 16
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 3 ) + 6 = 16
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 10 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 2 ) + 6 = 9
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 4 ) + 6 = 11
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 9 + 6 ) + 6 = 21
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 2 + 2 ) + 6 = 10
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 8 + 7 ) + 6 = 21
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 8 ) + 6 = 18
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 9 ) + 6 = 19
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 10 + 1 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 10 + 9 ) + 6 = 25
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 6 + 5 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 1 ) + 6 = 11
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 3 ) + 6 = 14
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 3 + 6 ) + 6 = 15
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 8 ) + 6 = 21
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 6 + 3 ) + 6 = 15
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 3 ) + 6 = 14
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 5 ) + 6 = 18
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 3 ) + 6 = 13
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 10 + 4 ) + 6 = 20
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 3 ) + 6 = 10
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 3 ) + 6 = 13
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 4 ) + 6 = 11
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 9 + 5 ) + 6 = 20
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 6 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 5 ) + 6 = 16
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 1 ) + 6 = 14
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 10 + 7 ) + 6 = 23
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 2 + 5 ) + 6 = 13
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 10 ) + 6 = 23
----
( 11 + 18 + 22 + 18 + 13 + 22 + 21 + 17 + 16 + 16 + 17 + 9 + 11 + 21 + 10 + 21 + 18 + 19 + 17 + 25 + 17 + 11 + 14 + 15 + 21 + 15 + 14 + 18 + 13 + 20 + 10 + 13 + 11 + 20 + 17 + 16 + 14 + 23 + 13 + 23 ) = 660
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 3 + 2 ) + 6 = 11
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 8 ) + 6 = 18
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 9 + 7 ) + 6 = 22
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 7 ) + 6 = 18
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 6 ) + 6 = 13
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 8 + 8 ) + 6 = 22
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 10 ) + 6 = 21
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 10 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 6 + 4 ) + 6 = 16
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 3 ) + 6 = 16
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 10 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 2 ) + 6 = 9
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 4 ) + 6 = 11
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 9 + 6 ) + 6 = 21
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 2 + 2 ) + 6 = 10
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 8 + 7 ) + 6 = 21
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 8 ) + 6 = 18
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 9 ) + 6 = 19
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 10 + 1 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 10 + 9 ) + 6 = 25
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 6 + 5 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 1 ) + 6 = 11
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 3 ) + 6 = 14
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 3 + 6 ) + 6 = 15
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 8 ) + 6 = 21
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 6 + 3 ) + 6 = 15
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 3 ) + 6 = 14
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 5 ) + 6 = 18
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 3 ) + 6 = 13
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 10 + 4 ) + 6 = 20
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 3 ) + 6 = 10
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 4 + 3 ) + 6 = 13
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 1 + 4 ) + 6 = 11
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 9 + 5 ) + 6 = 20
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 6 ) + 6 = 17
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 5 + 5 ) + 6 = 16
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 1 ) + 6 = 14
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 10 + 7 ) + 6 = 23
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 2 + 5 ) + 6 = 13
Rolling 2d10 + 6
( 7 + 10 ) + 6 = 23
----
( 11 + 18 + 22 + 18 + 13 + 22 + 21 + 17 + 16 + 16 + 17 + 9 + 11 + 21 + 10 + 21 + 18 + 19 + 17 + 25 + 17 + 11 + 14 + 15 + 21 + 15 + 14 + 18 + 13 + 20 + 10 + 13 + 11 + 20 + 17 + 16 + 14 + 23 + 13 + 23 ) = 660
Enemy bombing run reduced to 25% effectiveness!
Effective damage total: 219.75
Per Ship: 43.95
Now the evasion rolls...
TEMPORARY EVASION SYSTEM: 5 and above affords a 50% damage reduction. 10 and above affords a 75% damage reduction. 15 and above grants full evasion. Resulting number shall be rounded to nearest whole.
William D. Porter:
1d20 = 11
Result: 75% damage reduction
Total Damage Sustained: 10.98-1= 10 Damage
HP: 6/16
Atlanta:
Rolling 1d15
( 5 ) = 5
Result: 50% damage reduction
Total Damage Sustained: 21.97-5= 17
HP: 8/25
Mahan:
1d20 = 9
Result: 50% damage reduction
Total Damage Sustained: 21.97-1= 21
HP: 0/14
SUNK
Independence:
Rolling 1d15
( 12 ) = 12
Result: 75% damage reduction
Total Damage Sustained: 10.98-3= 8
HP: 20/28
Iowa:
Rolling 1d7
( 4 ) = 4
Result: NO DAMAGE REDUCTION
Total Damage Sustained: 43.95-24= 20
HP: 76/96
Abyssal plane after Abyssal plane are swatted from the air, spinning out of control or wiped out of existence by the torrent of fire opposing them, but even as they are slaughtered in mind-numbing numbers, some make it through. Many make it through. They all bear down on you, engines screeching with an unearthly wail.
"Evasive!" Iowa screams, her screws tearing up the water under her, "Dodge, fucking dodge!"
Your own turbines scream as you push their limits, zigzagging through the water in an effort to throw off the dive bomber's aim.
They release their deadly payloads. Black bombs fall like raindrops.
All around you and the others, geysers erupt in the water where the bombs miss their mark. Mahan and Atlanta emerge from the pillars of water unscathed. However, Independence winces in pain as one impacts her flight deck, cratering it. Iowa cries out as her number three turret explodes into fragments, nailed by a bomb. You gasp in shock and agony as you feel one blow your smoke stack clean off in a crimson conflagration. It sets off a chain reaction on some of your AA guns, detonating their ammunition which tears even more of your rigging off your back, throwing it into the ocean. The pain is agonizing, but you pull yourself together; this isn't over yet.
Then the torpedo bombers drop their own contributions.
From all sides, underwater comets with trails of bubbles tear towards you and your sisters.
"Torpedoes!" Mahan calls out unnecessarily as she swerves to dodge them. Everyone does so.
Twisting and weaving, you cheer as every single torpedo misses you. Good, one hit would have been enough to sink a little Destroyer like you.
Atlanta catches a few as she tried to turn into them, staggering as she sinks a little bit lower into the water.
It stops at her knees, though, leaving her gasping in exertion and no small amount of pain. She has the flooding under control. Good.
Independence is hit by a single torpedo, and winces as she sinks a bit lower in the water. However, she survives, smirking slightly at her accomplishment.
Iowa catches almost a full spread, sustaining a considerable amount of damage. She barely reacted, and doesn't sink much, however. She looks mortified, but her armor protected her.
Mahan turns to avoid a torpedo, then her eyes widen in fear and terror as she realizes that she's just turned into the path of one last torpedo, and there's no time to change course.
She faces you and reaches out in desperation, as if you could do something.
"PORTE-" and she's swallowed up by a pillar of water.
Eyes fixed on the horror, you rush at her at your maximum speed, screaming at the top of your lungs, "MAHAN!"
The water falls back to the surface of the ocean, and you grab at the mangled destroyer with your hands, your turret tossed aside in the heat of the moment (a fairy scrambles out of the discarded cannon, life vest worn).
"Mahan!" you struggle to keep her above water. She's so heavy! The water darkens with red around the two of you. Her legs are obscured and distorted through the water, but you're fairly certain that she no longer has legs below the thighs.
She's limp as you strain to hold onto her. Her eyes are closed, and she's not breathing. Her boilers are silent, no smoke issues from her rigging.
Her weight is dragging you down. Your own legs sinking beneath the waves.
"No," you gaps as the water threatens to swallow her entirely, "No! MAHAN!"
"Hold on!" Atlanta shouts in a panic, grabbing ahold of you and Mahan, even though she herself is low in the water, "I won't let you two go!"
Independence wordlessly pulls up alongside and grips Mahan's shoulder, determination etched on her features.
Iowa seizes one of the straps securing Mahan's rigging to her back, "Don't sink on me!" she yells in anger and hopeless frustration, "That's an order, Mahan! You hear me? AN ORDER!"
The little Destroyer's descent is halted as everyone holds onto the flooded ship, hoping that they can save her. You hope that you can save her. She didn't deserve this.
The remaining anti-aircraft guns among you increase their chattering, and you all see the Abyssal planes regroup like a swarm of wasps, gearing up to strafe the gathered lot of you.
"...We..." Iowa swallows nervously, "We need to move."
"NO!" you balk at the suggestion, "I'm not leaving Mahan!"
"We need to move!" Iowa shouts, but doesn't let go of Mahan.
Your AAA fire continues unabated, but the planes do not fall fast enough. They get closer... and are clearly on a collision course.
They're going to kamikaze.
You hold onto Mahan as tight as you can. You can't die here, she can't die here! This can't possibly be it!
"Looks like you girls could use a hand."
You start at the voice over the radio as a number of missiles slam into most of the remaining Abyssal planes, sending them spiraling into the ocean as disintegrating wrecks.
Swooping into the area at top speed, the USS Tulsa fires its main gun, blasting the second-to-last bomber into flaming chunks. The last one swerves towards the LCS, cannon chattering and stitching a line up the side of the vessel. The LCS's CIWS sprays at the aggressor, unfortunately missing. As one last defiant act, the Abyssal plunges into the warship's cannon, annihilating it in a modest explosion.
"Get her to the Tulsa!" Iowa orders suddenly, snapping the rest of you out of your momentary shock. As one, you all drag the flooded Destroyer towards the LCS.
As you approach your savior, you note the extensive battle damage on the Tulsa, mostly old. The armor has been patched recently, although fresh wounds have been inflicted on the vessel. Craters from bomb impacts and such. She's been through a hell of a beating.
Steaming towards the starboard side of the ship, you make for the ramp that has been lowered for boarding.
Both you, Iowa, and Independence haul Mahan's still body on board while Atlanta crawls onto the ramp.
Immediately, Iowa lifts Mahan in her arms and stomps towards the naval officer that's come to greet the five of you.
"Where are the docks?!" she demands of the man, who sputters a reply. Her answer in hand, she runs as fast as she can into the ship itself.
You stagger after her. You need to know if Mahan will be all right. Nervous, friendly little Mahan.
Bursting into the docks, which is a large module installed into the mission bay, Iowa kneels down next to one of what appears to be a bathtub, but is actually a dock for Ship Girls. It's where you repair from damage sustained in combat. And right now, it's Mahan's only hope.
Iowa gently lowers the Destroyer into the water, her face stricken. You hold your breath as you watch Mahan for any sign of life. The water tints slightly from Mahan's blood.
A minute passes, and Iowa's expression darkens.
She mouths, "My fault," before moving to leave.
Then Mahan gasps.
The two of you freeze and are instantly at her side as she takes gasping, unsteady breath after unsteady breath.
"...Thank goodness," Iowa sags, relief evident as she smiles slightly.
You're speechless. You thought Mahan was gone. She nearly had been. If it hadn't been for you, she would have slipped beneath the waves, leaving no trace that she ever existed.
You've barely known the name ship of the Mahan-class long, but you're so glad that you'll have more time to get to know her.
You're not at all ashamed to admit that you're beginning to bawl in a manner completely undignified for an officer of the US Navy. They're tears of relief and joy, however. They could have easily been something else.
"I'll... I'll ask the Captain if they have any Instant Repair Buckets in storage," Iowa gets up to leave, "Look after her, will you, Porter?"
You nod, sniffling, as you clasp Mahan's hand tightly. It's getting warmer. She's alive. She isn't sunk. That's all that matters at the moment.
All that matters.
{Options}
[] Stay with Mahan. Your own repairs can wait until she's well. Also Iowa told you to.
[] Mahan will be fine. See to the others. Atlanta also needs help.
[] Use a dock. You're damaged, and need repairs.
[] Write in...
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Mini-Omake - M&M [C]
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
- Location
- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Okay, so I'm taking a short break from writing essays in the wee hours of the morning to bring you a mini-omake.
M&M
"..." the Admiral stood at the docks, staring out into the bay as the intermittent cracks of old cannons engaged in a shouting match with roaring broadsides.
"Sir," the Admiral's aide asked, "How... How long have they been at it?"
"Five hours," the Admiral answered tiredly, "They should be running out of ammunition soon."
"...Why did it have to be them?" the aide also asked.
"I don't know," the Admiral rested his head in his hands, "Why."
"SINK ALREADY YOU SOUTHERN HARLOT!!!" the USS Monitor shouted angrily, her back-mounted turret firing its two cannons while a full broadside of cannonballs bounced off her side.
"NEVER, YOU NORTHERN WHORE!!" the CSS Virginia (formerly USS Merrimack) yelled defiantly, Monitor's shots doing nothing more than denting the two massive iron-clad wooden shields she held, one for each arm.
"THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN!" Virginia declared, cannons firing out of the gunports in her shield, most missing the Monitor or glancing off her turret.
"Useless," the Admiral moaned into his hands, "Just... useless..."
M&M
"..." the Admiral stood at the docks, staring out into the bay as the intermittent cracks of old cannons engaged in a shouting match with roaring broadsides.
"Sir," the Admiral's aide asked, "How... How long have they been at it?"
"Five hours," the Admiral answered tiredly, "They should be running out of ammunition soon."
"...Why did it have to be them?" the aide also asked.
"I don't know," the Admiral rested his head in his hands, "Why."
"SINK ALREADY YOU SOUTHERN HARLOT!!!" the USS Monitor shouted angrily, her back-mounted turret firing its two cannons while a full broadside of cannonballs bounced off her side.
"NEVER, YOU NORTHERN WHORE!!" the CSS Virginia (formerly USS Merrimack) yelled defiantly, Monitor's shots doing nothing more than denting the two massive iron-clad wooden shields she held, one for each arm.
"THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN!" Virginia declared, cannons firing out of the gunports in her shield, most missing the Monitor or glancing off her turret.
"Useless," the Admiral moaned into his hands, "Just... useless..."
6 - Wish you were here Walke
TheBleachDoctor
Secretly a Cat
- Location
- The Plane of Infinite Kittens
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[x] Stay with Mahan. Your own repairs can wait until she's well. Also Iowa told you to.
You aren't going anywhere. Mahan needs you, and you're here for her.
Seeing her like this... it kills you. There was nothing more you could have done, true, but that doesn't make you feel any better. Or maybe you could have done more? Shot a few more planes down, warned her in advance... hell, maybe you could have turned into the torpedo that was meant for her.
But you didn't, and here she is, barely hanging on.
The name ship of the Mahan-class... aside from Atlanta, she's the only other person in the fleet who you can freely call a... friend.
When you arrived at the Pearl Harbor Naval Base/District, you were greeted respectfully by your Admiral, a friendly and amicable woman... and while you wished she could be your friend, that just wasn't possible. She was your Admiral, and she never got too close with any of you Ship Girls, although she never ignored any of you...
But all that meant is that she never got involved when Iowa subtly mocked you, or when the other Ship Girls teased you about your past. Even Atlanta does to a certain extent... although she doesn't mean anything by it.
Mahan, on the other hand...
Mahan tried to get to know you. When you asked why she wasn't going along with the others in poking fun at you, she told you that she didn't care about any of that. You shouldn't be held responsible for mistakes so long ago... besides, as another ship that fell prey to kamikaze planes, she said that she felt a certain kinship to you.
You did point out how ridiculous that was. You got holed beneath the waterline by a kamikaze that you shot down, and then sunk like a chump. She took direct hits from those suicide planes, and even exploding and aflame, had to be blasted by friendlies before she even succumbed to the ocean.
It took Mahan pointing out all your achievements and overall performance in battle for you to realize, you weren't incompetent or clumsy... but everyone said so... and you began to believe it yourself.
She introduced you to Walke, and you began to feel... at home.
But then Walke was heavily damaged in combat, and couldn't go on this mission... really, Walke should have been here, not you. You took her place.
Oh, Mahan. The little DD deserved better... You should have looked out for her better in Walke's place. Some friend you are.
The door to the module opens again, and Iowa enters, holding an Instant Repair Bucket.
"It's the only one," the Battleship comments as she prepares to tip the contents into Mahan's dock, "Keep your fingers crossed."
The slightly glowing liquid cascades into the tub, and the water practically shines. Even unconscious, Mahan lets out a contented sigh. Her torn, battered, and mutilated body pulls itself back together before your very eyes... and she's as good as new.
Setting the bucket down, Iowa sighs in relief, before walking over to one of the docks in the module. She begins to strip off her rigging, which is still secured to her.
Independence enters, supporting a battered Atlanta. The Light Cruiser's legs look like they were introduced to an aggressive weed whacker, her armor belt blasted away in sections.
The Light Carrier lowers the Light Cruiser into one of the docks, muttered thanks being exchanged.
"What are you waiting for?" Iowa asks, eying your twisted smokestack as she pulls her uniform off, "That can't be pleasant. Get in your dock."
[] You have something else to do first...
-[] Write in...
[] Report to the Captain of the Tulsa first.
You aren't going anywhere. Mahan needs you, and you're here for her.
Seeing her like this... it kills you. There was nothing more you could have done, true, but that doesn't make you feel any better. Or maybe you could have done more? Shot a few more planes down, warned her in advance... hell, maybe you could have turned into the torpedo that was meant for her.
But you didn't, and here she is, barely hanging on.
The name ship of the Mahan-class... aside from Atlanta, she's the only other person in the fleet who you can freely call a... friend.
When you arrived at the Pearl Harbor Naval Base/District, you were greeted respectfully by your Admiral, a friendly and amicable woman... and while you wished she could be your friend, that just wasn't possible. She was your Admiral, and she never got too close with any of you Ship Girls, although she never ignored any of you...
But all that meant is that she never got involved when Iowa subtly mocked you, or when the other Ship Girls teased you about your past. Even Atlanta does to a certain extent... although she doesn't mean anything by it.
Mahan, on the other hand...
Mahan tried to get to know you. When you asked why she wasn't going along with the others in poking fun at you, she told you that she didn't care about any of that. You shouldn't be held responsible for mistakes so long ago... besides, as another ship that fell prey to kamikaze planes, she said that she felt a certain kinship to you.
You did point out how ridiculous that was. You got holed beneath the waterline by a kamikaze that you shot down, and then sunk like a chump. She took direct hits from those suicide planes, and even exploding and aflame, had to be blasted by friendlies before she even succumbed to the ocean.
It took Mahan pointing out all your achievements and overall performance in battle for you to realize, you weren't incompetent or clumsy... but everyone said so... and you began to believe it yourself.
She introduced you to Walke, and you began to feel... at home.
But then Walke was heavily damaged in combat, and couldn't go on this mission... really, Walke should have been here, not you. You took her place.
Oh, Mahan. The little DD deserved better... You should have looked out for her better in Walke's place. Some friend you are.
The door to the module opens again, and Iowa enters, holding an Instant Repair Bucket.
"It's the only one," the Battleship comments as she prepares to tip the contents into Mahan's dock, "Keep your fingers crossed."
The slightly glowing liquid cascades into the tub, and the water practically shines. Even unconscious, Mahan lets out a contented sigh. Her torn, battered, and mutilated body pulls itself back together before your very eyes... and she's as good as new.
Setting the bucket down, Iowa sighs in relief, before walking over to one of the docks in the module. She begins to strip off her rigging, which is still secured to her.
Independence enters, supporting a battered Atlanta. The Light Cruiser's legs look like they were introduced to an aggressive weed whacker, her armor belt blasted away in sections.
The Light Carrier lowers the Light Cruiser into one of the docks, muttered thanks being exchanged.
"What are you waiting for?" Iowa asks, eying your twisted smokestack as she pulls her uniform off, "That can't be pleasant. Get in your dock."
{Options}
[] Utilize the docks.[] You have something else to do first...
-[] Write in...
[] Report to the Captain of the Tulsa first.
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Omake - "Fives" [C]
- Location
- America
[Somewhere in the Pacific]
A small orange inflatable life boat could be seen bobbing up and down in the waves. Inside the life boat was a single solitary fairy, using a miniature pocket knife to open a miniature MRE. She deftly sliced open the packaging, dumping the plastic wrapping over the side and into the water, screw Greenpeace, if it made the Abyss even the slightest bit more unpleasant for the abyssal fleet than she was going to damn well do it as much as she pleased. She sifted through the contents of the MRE and came across the Entree.
"Beef stew huh? Not bad." She said to herself as she pulled the Entree out of its box. That went over the side too, the box, not the entree. She also got out the side dish as well. "Potato soup with bacon. I love this stuff." She muttered aimlessly as she tossed the box over her shoulder into the surf.
Once the two pouches were in the flameless ration heater and cooking to a good temperature, 5 inch/38 caliber gun mount fairy or "Fives" as she was known by her colleagues, began fiddling with her field radio/distress beacon while chewing aimlessly on saltine cracker.
The radio crackled and sputtered but there wasn't a signal yet. She slapped it a few times. Still nothing.
She shrugged her shoulders and put it back into its watertight compartment inside the life boat's semi-rigid hull. The flameless ration heater died down. Fives quickly and carefully extracted the food before disposing of the heater bag and remaining liquid once again into the ocean. She tore open the potato soup bag and stirred it around with the plastic spoon.
"Hmm. Mike's probably signing out a sea plane about now."
She lifted the spoon to her mouth and started eating.
"Take your time Mike. I got all day."
A small orange inflatable life boat could be seen bobbing up and down in the waves. Inside the life boat was a single solitary fairy, using a miniature pocket knife to open a miniature MRE. She deftly sliced open the packaging, dumping the plastic wrapping over the side and into the water, screw Greenpeace, if it made the Abyss even the slightest bit more unpleasant for the abyssal fleet than she was going to damn well do it as much as she pleased. She sifted through the contents of the MRE and came across the Entree.
"Beef stew huh? Not bad." She said to herself as she pulled the Entree out of its box. That went over the side too, the box, not the entree. She also got out the side dish as well. "Potato soup with bacon. I love this stuff." She muttered aimlessly as she tossed the box over her shoulder into the surf.
Once the two pouches were in the flameless ration heater and cooking to a good temperature, 5 inch/38 caliber gun mount fairy or "Fives" as she was known by her colleagues, began fiddling with her field radio/distress beacon while chewing aimlessly on saltine cracker.
The radio crackled and sputtered but there wasn't a signal yet. She slapped it a few times. Still nothing.
She shrugged her shoulders and put it back into its watertight compartment inside the life boat's semi-rigid hull. The flameless ration heater died down. Fives quickly and carefully extracted the food before disposing of the heater bag and remaining liquid once again into the ocean. She tore open the potato soup bag and stirred it around with the plastic spoon.
"Hmm. Mike's probably signing out a sea plane about now."
She lifted the spoon to her mouth and started eating.
"Take your time Mike. I got all day."
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