The war against the Abyssals is not going well. After a major defeat, the US Navy stumbles onto...
Fight the Ship(Kancolle)
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Breakaway25
All hail the Mighty Tomcat
- Location
- Stuck on the Quarterdeck
The war against the Abyssals is not going well. After a major defeat, the US Navy stumbles onto something that may change the course of the war, a group young girls who claim to have been ships. Now with a seasoned officer at the helm of a new program, the US Navy sets about to finally win the war.
My second attempt at a story of this type, hopefully this time I can actually finish it.
FF.net link
My second attempt at a story of this type, hopefully this time I can actually finish it.
FF.net link
Chapter 1
Breakaway25
All hail the Mighty Tomcat
- Location
- Stuck on the Quarterdeck
"For in this modern world, the instruments of warfare are not solely for waging war. Far more importantly, they are the means for controlling peace. Naval officers must therefore understand not only how to fight a war, but how to use the tremendous power which they operate to sustain a world of liberty and justice, without unleashing the powerful instruments of destruction and chaos that they have at their command."
Admiral Arleigh Burke, 1961
Chapter 1:
They were losing this war. There was no way to deny it now. No hope that a sudden victory would turn the tide back in their favor. They had simply lost too much to the monsters. The tired ships and weary men of the United States Navy had thrown themselves repeatedly at the Abyssals in the hopes of at least slowing their advance, but in the end, nothing they could do. So many ships, so many lives had been lost in the attempt, and now the Navy was almost nothing left to stand against the Abyssals. For the remaining ships, there lay only a single option, to run. Maybe in fleeing they could preserve the handful of ships they had left for a day when they might make a difference.
Commander Matthew L. Dover, USN, captain of the destroyer USS Halsey, sat in the wardroom, sipping at a cup of lukewarm coffee. It tasted horrible, but at this point Matt would have gladly drunk bilgewater if it was laced with caffeine. He hadn't even known it was possible to be this tired, and he had no idea how much longer he could go. The strain was already beginning to show on his body, and his normally bright, blue eyes were dull and bloodshot. His face was covered with a sprinkling of brown stubble that made him look much older than his thirty six years. He couldn't remember the last time he had looked like this bad, but he just couldn't bring himself to rest. Not with the threat of attack bearing down.
Not thirty six hours ago, his ship had participated in the largest battle to date. It was to be a last, desperate attempt to check the Abyssal's implacable advance across the Pacific. In the waters off Midway Island, ever ship the Navy had left sortied to meet them, including the only three remaining carriers in the Pacific. It was to be a grand gesture of defiance to the Abyssals, and a victory would have drawn a line of defiance right in their path. In the end, a gesture was all it was. Nearly every single ship that had joined the battle was lost, and now the only carrier left was the Enterprise. The order to retreat had come during the night, and the surviving ships had begun a mad dash to safety. It had been simple luck that Halsey had found one of her sisters, O'Kane, in the confusion, and then they had fallen in company with the Enterprise. Lending their own meager power to the big ship's defense. They had come a long way since then, and in a few hours they would be safely secure in Pearl Harbor. So why then did Matt feel so anxious?
He idly took a sip from his mug, and looked up to see Lieutenant Commander Evan Sullivan slide into a seat across the table. Sullivan was Matt's executive officer, his second in command. The XO was nearly a polar opposite from his captain right now. Sullivan had his usual happy-go-lucky expression plastered across his face, and looked for the world like he wasn't worried about anything. He took one look at Matt, then announced, "I know that look, sir. You're worried."
Matt let out a derisive snort. "No, exec, I'm not worried. Scared shitless, maybe, but not worried," Matt replied, dryly.
"I don't know why. Contrary to Sparky's bitchin, the ship is fine," Sullivan replied. He was referring to the Halsey's engineering officer, Lieutenant Commander Rick Smith, known to the crew as Sparky. The man was just a tad eccentric, but Matt knew of no better engineer in the fleet. He could keep the turbines running with nothing more than duct tape and WD-40 if Matt asked him to. "Hell, the only problem I see is having only a pair of DDGs."
"You'll understand when you get your own ship, exec," Matt said, patting Sullivan on the shoulder as he stood, "The first, second, and third thing on your mind at all times is her safety. Want some coffee?"
"Sure. It taste like burnt, day old beans soaked in stale bilgewater?" Sullivan asked.
"You know it," Matt deadpanned, then walked over to where the carafes were secured. Matt grabbed an empty mug off the rack and began to fill it. He said idly while the cup filled, "I can't wait to get back to Pearl. Get some R&R, maybe actually manage to get some drydock time. The old girl certainly needs it."
"She'll hold together," Sullivan replied, "She is Halsey after all. Hit hard, hit fast, hit often, and all that."
"She's certainly earned a rest, we all have," Matt commented, wistfully. His ship had been through a lot over the last few months. Halsey had been an old ship to begin with, almost twenty years of continuous service now. But even if she was old, she certainly had a lot of fight in her. She had participated in almost every major campaign of this war, and Matt still didn't know if it was due to his skill as a captain, or pure luck that she had yet to take serious damage. "When will we face something we can't beat?" he said, voicing the thought that kept coming into his mind.
"Never doubt the girl's luck skipper, she'll pull us through," Sullivan commented. Matt shook his head, why did he sound so melancholy all of a sudden?
"I'm sorry, exec. It's a captain's job to worry needlessly," Matt said, sliding a full mug across the table.
"You're wrong about that, skipper. Worryin's my job," Matt looked up to see Senior Chief Rowin Boggs standing in the hatchway. Boggs was the ship's Command Master Chief, the highest ranking enlisted man aboard. Boggs fit the stereotype of an old time noncom to a T, being gruff an stern most of the time. He was the one who ensured that the crew carried out Matt's orders.
"Morning Boats, what are you doing this deep in officer's country?" Matt asked.
"Skipper and the XO disappear, there's only about three places they can be. Wardroom being one," Boggs replied in his usual gruff manner.
"So is there a reason you need us, or is this a social call?" Matt asked, easing himself back into a seat. Boggs pulled out a sheet of paper and walked over to hand it to Matt.
"Comms got that about ten minutes ago. Telex from Pearl," Boggs said. Matt took the paper and began to skim through is. His face fell as he read.
"What is it?" Sullivan asked, placing his mug back on the table.
"Patrol flight spotted some Abyssals. Couldn't identify them past 'Abyssals', but they're headed straight for us," Matt's voice sounded distant as he read. He slammed the telex on the table and reached up to rub his face in frustration, "All told, that piece of information is about two hour old. Why can't we ever get this stuff when it's relevant?"
"What do we do?" Sullivan asked. His normal air of joviality was gone, replaced by cool professionalism.
"The only thing we can do," Matt replied, stretching as he stood, "We fight them, exec." He turned to look at Boggs. The chief raised a questioning eyebrow, silently asking for orders. Boggs had no idea what to do, but the old time noncom would never admit that, especially not where the crew might overhear him. "Chief, make sure the crew is ready." That was all Matt needed to say. Boggs nodded, then left with a look of determination on his face. Matt drained the rest of his coffee, then looked at Sullivan, "Get down to CIC, exec. I'm headed up to the bridge."
"Aye aye, sir," Sullivan replied, then raised his mug in salute. Matt began to move out, but stopped when Sullivan said, "And sir, good luck."
"Hopefully we won't need that, exec," Matt replied, then ducked into the corridor. It didn't take him long to reach the bridge.
He was greeted by the customary call of, "Captain on deck," as he stepped through the hatch.
"As you were," he replied out of reflex, "Keep the deck lieutenant, I'm just looking."
Lieutenant Sandra Wright, the current officer of the deck nodded, then replied, "Aye sir, I have the deck." As the OOD, Wright currently had command of the ship, Matt didn't want to change over just yet. Wright was a young, just barely into her second sea tour as an officer, but she showed promise. Matt wordlessly stepped through the bridge, and then flopped down in his chair at the front of the space. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he knew there was something out there. And it was hunting his ship.
[][][]
It was amazing just how quickly things could change. One minute Matt was looking out at blue skies, and the next there was a growing cloud on the horizon to their west. No one knew why the Abyssals were always wrapped in storm, perhaps it was nature herself trying to fight them? Already. Matt could feel the air growing colder, and when he looked up at the ship's barometer, it was dropping like a stone. With grim realization, he saw that the Abyssals had managed to put themselves right between the Enterprise and Pearl Harbor, perhaps the worst place for them to pop up. There was no way they could avoid them. They would have to fight. With all the strength he could muster, Matt said, "I have the deck, lieutenant. Go ahead and sound general quarters." He silently prayed that he hadn't just signed their death warrants.
With a wavering voice, Lieutenant Wright replied, "Aye sir, you have the deck. Sound general quarters, aye sir," she turned to the boatswain of the watch and ordered, "Bosun, sound general quarters." The man nodded, then walked to the 1MC general address box.
He rang the ship's bell loudly, then said, "General quarters, general quarters all hands, man your battlestations." The Halsey came alive with the rhythmic gong-gong-gong of the general alarm. The deck vibrated and rattled as the crew ran to their stations. Covers were ripped off weapons, and safety pins removed. The bridge crew had to stand aside as Marine gunners ran through to man the .50 caliber machine guns mounted on the bridge wings. Small arms were issued, kevlar body armor and helmets were passed out. The damage control teams put on their firefighting gear and broke out damcon gear. In the combat information center, every station was turned on, bathing the space in a harsh, blue glow. Commander Sullivan accepted a headset and moved to stand in the center of the room, taking his place as the officer in charge of the CIC.
One of the junior crewmembers broke out the anti-flash gear and Matt wasted no time donning the protective hood and gloves. Wright stood at the comm panel, relaying readiness reports as they came in, until she announced, "All sections report manned and ready, sir."
"Very well," Matt replied, then looked over at the chronometer to note the time, "Four minutes, not good. Lieutenant, inform Chief Boggs that the deck division was the slowest. He ought to have some interesting words with them later." Several members of the bridge crew cringed at the thought of the Senior Chief's ire.
"The crew is tired, sir," Wright commented grimly.
"As much as I'd like to, I can't fix that," Matt commented, then looked out the bridge windows. What he saw made him shudder. The blue sky was completely gone, replaced by an inky blackness that flashed and pulsated raw evil. The wind had begun to whip across the deck, and it howled through any open hatch. The sea was beginning to run rough, and the deck had already begun to roll. Matt watched waves begin to crash over the bow, leaving the fo'c'sle awash. Rain fell in great sheets, creating wafting, opaque curtains of water that were almost impossible to see through. The cover they presented worked both ways. The Abyssals couldn't see them, but Matt had no idea where the Abyssals were. He reached down to grab the 21MC phone and said, "CIC, I need a picture. Things are getting pretty bad up here."
"Radar's workin on a picture," Sullivan replied over the phone, "But the returns are jumpin around like frogs on a skillet, per usual. They're out there, but I can't give you anything solid." The Abyssals defied all logic when it came to radar. It was possible to spot them, almost easy in fact, but to make any sense of their returns was no easy task. They were always fuzzy as hell, and jumped around the scope. It took even an experienced radar operator time to sort through the mess, time which Halsey didn't have.
"We might not have a minute, exec," Matt replied, slamming the phone back into its cradle. He looked up at the storm enveloping his ship, trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything through the haze.
"Sir, look there," Wright said, pointing at something ahead. Through the miasma of rain and spray, the Enterprise's deck flashed. For a moment Matt thought that the carrier had been hit. Then he realized he was watching the flash of a jet's afterburners.
"We just might get some air support after all," he muttered. He doubted that even as he said it. These days SOP called for a carrier to launch all of its planes as quickly as possible in order to minimize the chances of a deck fire. The planes were launched regardless of whether or not they had been loaded. He had heard horror stories of pilots going into battle armed with nothing more than cannon ammo, and the rounds in their sidearm. He hoped the Enterprise's planes could help them today, but wasn't counting on it. The jangling raaaa of the bridge phone broke Matt from his thoughts.
"We got a picture," Sullivan announced without preamble. Matt reached over to switch the circuit to the bridge speakers, "Three contacts, two small, and one big. Range is ten thousand, closing at ten knots."
"Two destroyers and a cruiser?" Wright suggested hopefully.
"No, the Abyssals may be cocky, but they aren't that cocky. Probably two cruisers and a battleship," Matt replied with grimly, "They want Big E dead." He raised the phone to ask, "Any word from fleet?"
There was a momentary pause, and Matt thought he could hear the XO sigh on the other end of the line, "Fleet says to break formation with O'Kane and advance. The last order was, 'Protect the Enterprise, at all cost'." Matt's eyes closed momentarily as the weight of that order fell on his shoulders. The chances of them living through this day just shrank, exponentially. In order to give the carrier time to escape, he would have to put his ship right in the Abyssal's cross hairs.
In a voice that was strangely distant, he replied, "Very well, keep me informed." He kept the handset gripped tightly in his hand as he ordered the helmsman, "Come left, steer course 220. All engines ahead flank."
"Come left, steer course 220, all engines ahead flank, aye sir." There was a tinge of sullen resignation from the helmsman as he carried out the orders.
"Sir, why did they give that order?" Wright asked, a note of worry evident in her voice.
"They need us to protect the carrier. So that is exactly what we are going to do," Matt replied, he knew that he had to keep his voice firm to reassure Wright. The last thing he needed right now was for his bridge officers to panic. Matt raised the phone to his ear, "CIC, we have a missile solution yet?"
"Radar says he has a tentative solution, but no track just yet. Wait one," Sullivan replied almost immediately.
"Exec, we are rapidly running out of time and ocean," Matt said, taking measured breaths. If they couldn't get missiles on target soon, then they would all be in trouble.
"Working on it, skipper, but the returns are bouncin all over the place," Sullivan replied, then spoke again as something was passed to him, "Skipper, O'Kane has formed up behind us, they're ready to engage targets as we see fit."
Matt took a deep breath to calm himself, then replied, "Very well, acknowledge, and tell them we'll transmit them a firing solution just as soon as we have it."
A new voice came on the circuit causing Matt's head to snap around, "Bridge, starboard lookout new contact, bearing 120, range 98 double 0, closing fast. Looks like a cruiser." Matt peered through the bridge windows, and spotted the silhouette of the contact. He had a hard time making it out through the constant rain and darkness though. A tracer arced past the windows before exploding into the orange white flame of an illumination round.
"Where did that come from?" Wright asked after a moment of stunned silence.
"Probably O'Kane," Matt replied offhand, "Glad someone was on the ball." He looked back to see what the flare had revealed, and immediately his blood went cold. Emerging from a wall of rain was an Abyssal. From the outside, it looked like a ship, an ancient ship. Its prow was sharp and its sides were flat. By all rights, this thing should be easy to kill, but looks can be deceiving. It's eight and six inch guns hit with way more punch than they had a right too. A well placed salvo would cripple Halsey. It was also devilishly fast, Matt had seen one just like it break thirty knots before.
"CIC, are you seeing this?" Matt asked. He hoped the crew couldn't hear the hesitation in his voice, and suddenly felt the pang of anxiousness returning. He didn't know why, they had been in battle before, but had never felt this gnawing feeling of apprehension and dread in his gut. Hell, he had been in battles with them yesterday, but he had never felt this way about one. There was just something different about this one, and Matt couldn't figure out what it was.
Almost as if the Abyssal knew that it had been spotted, its main turrets began to slowly rotate. It also began a lazy turn, moving to unshadow its full broadside. "No missile track, working on it," Sullivan replied, "Recommend engaging with mount 51."
"Very well, batteries release." A second later the 5" gun down on the fo'c'sle barked with a loud ka-whumph. Matt watched for the shot to land, but a second shot struck before the Halsey's. He looked over to see that O'Kane had opened up with her 5". The shots caused no discernable damage when they struck, just sparked off the plate. If one thing could be said for the Abyssals, it was that they were tough. The Navy didn't have a gun that could penetrate their flanks when the war started. There had been a scramble to adopt an armor piercing round capable of damaging the Abyssals. Matt was glad that the Halsey's magazines had been filled with said shells the last time they had left Diego. Of course they had expended some of the rounds over the last few days, but they still had quite a few left.
The rounds still needed to hit almost flat on to be able to penetrate. The angle the Abyssal presented was too great, and most of the shells skipped off harmlessly. The gun kept up a steady stream of fire. Shifting its aim up, hoping to score a lucky hit on the thinner superstructure. There was still no visible damage after landing several hits, and the Abyssal continued its advance. It would be able to present its full broadside in a minute. "CIC, I hope you have something better for me," Matt said, his voice rising steadily, "Or else this fucker's going to get off a broadside." Matt slammed a fist into his armrest in frustration. It was clear that he was agitated, he never swore over the radio.
"Sir, launching SM-6s on a radar beam," Sullivan replied a moment later, "TAO says that could work."
"Do it. You are weapons free."
"Roger weapons free. Birds away." It only took a moment for the Halsey to be bathed in fire. VLS hatches popped open and about thirty SM-6 missiles began to fly away. At the same time, Halsey shot an invisible beam of radio energy at the Abyssal, giving the missiles something solid to track. They chased after the beam like dogs running after a favorite toy. Even with the ship guiding the missiles, an unsettling number of them fell short, impacting harmlessly with the sea, passing over it without exploding. The Abyssals just seemed to make technology go haywire with their presence. In this case though, sheer saturation was able to solve the problem. About six of the missiles impacted the Abyssal, causing it to disappear in fire and smoke.
Even then, Matt didn't have high hopes for success. The SM-6 was really an anti-aircraft missile. Its warhead just wasn't able to penetrate the Abyssal's armor. It was like trying to kill a tank with a BB gun. When the smoke cleared, it was clear that they had done some damage to the Abyssal. Its decks were a mess, and several of its secondary guns had been thrown from their mounts. But it was still sailing, still fighting. As Matt watched in horror, its guns barked out a ragged broadside. He didn't even have a chance to shout before the shots struck, causing his ship to ring and vibrate like a bass drum. He saw a shell impact with the bow, causing the prow to rend upwards with sheer force. The bridge shuddered violently, and a few of the windows burst inwards, showering an enlisted rating with glass. The ship seemed to slow, and Matt feared that the engines had been knocked out. Then, just as soon as it had begun, the attack ended. "Is everyone alright?" Matt asked breaking the tense silence.
Someone rushed over to the injured rating, and shouted, "Corpsman, we need a corpsman."
"Medical team to the bridge, medical team to the bridge," Matt called over the phone, then rotated in his chair, "How does my ship look, lieutenant?" Wright was one step ahead of her captain, she already had a headset on and was listening to incoming reports
"Sir, we took one in the forward berthing spaces, there are casualties. The aft deckhouse and the flight deck were hit. The helo's wrecked," she reported, sounding downcast.
"Anything else?"
"A few, new holes in the aft funnel, and the forward engine room was hit, but the shot went clean through. Made a mess of the conduits and wiring though. Sparky's working on bypassing it, and we should have full speed back soon." Matt was about to reply when his voice was drowned out by a loud roar. At first he thought his ship had been attacked again, but then he saw it, there were several missiles streaking past his ship. They had come from the other two destroyers in the van. The entire bridge held their breath as they passed, waiting and hoping that they would fly true.
Several fell short or impacted without exploding, but as Stalin once said, "Quantity has a quality all of its own." Several of the missiles detonated against the Abyssal. It only takes one shot to destroy a ship, but said shot has to land in exactly the right spot. While the Abyssal was heavily armored, there were still gaps in its defense. With the amount of missiles being hurled at the cruiser, the chances that one would find a gap rose significantly. This time it was the upper works. A missile managed to arc down and punch through the thinly armored roof of a turret, and detonate inside the barbette, setting off the Abyssal's remaining stores of powder. Matt watched as the Abyssal disappeared in a ball of orange fire. All that was left when the flames dissipated was a smoldering hulk very quickly slipping beneath the waves. Matt didn't know who started the cheer, but it quickly spread throughout the bridge. Matt even found himself joining in for a bit.
Then pragmatism won out, and he raised the phone, "CIC, how we looking?"
"Not good skipper. The cupboards are starting to run bare. That last attack pretty much ran us dry of SM-6s. We still have the Sea Sparrows, but you know how well they work." Matt had to nod at that. The Sea Sparrow was a medium range SAM, and had a smaller warhead then the SM-6, and was couldn't even scratch the Abyssal. "Full stock of LRASMs, about five more SM's, and about 75 percent on the cannon rounds."
"Carry on then," Matt replied, his voice sounding oddly hollow, and then replaced the phone in its cradle. Matt leaned back in his chair and removed his helmet to wipe the layer of sweat that had accumulated on his brow. Damn, when did it get so cold in here?
The sound of the bosun's voice made him look over his shoulder, Boggs had just stepped onto the bridge, "Skipper, Sparky says he'll have engines back in about ten minutes."
"I heard," Matt replied simply, "Where have you been, Boats?" Boggs' battle station was on the bridge as the boatswain of the watch, but he had been absent since the battle began.
"I got stuck aft when the shell wrecked the hangar. Took me this long to pick myself clear," Boggs replied, "It's a mess back there skipper. I'm surprised the chopper didn't explode. The whole aft end of the ship is shot to hell." Matt grimaced, he had known the damage was bad, but he didn't realize how bad.
"Very well, man your station, Senior Chief."
"Aye aye, sir," Boggs replied, then relieved Wright from the 1MC set.
Matt got about five minutes of peace before a frantic call came over the bridge speakers, "Bridge, CIC, Big E just radioed that her planes found something."
"What?" Matt asked, grabbing his phone.
"Surface contact to our front, they cannot identify at this time, storm is too thick. They broke off, we aren't getting any help from them."
"Damn," Matt replied, then grabbed his binoculars off the bulkhead. Ahead, vague at first, but steadily growing sharper, were two dark forms.
"Jesus Christ," muttered Boggs, his face going suddenly slack. Before them, racing to prevent their escape, were two Abyssals, a destroyer and an absolutely massive battleship. There was a collective gasp as the bridge realized what was ahead of them.
After a minute spent studying the Abyssal through his binoculars, Matt spoke, "It's a battleship alright, one of their big heavies," with a sigh he said, "They really don't want us to get away." The thing looked like the combination of at least four different classes of battleship. The superstructure looked more like it had been grown, rather than built. It dwarfed the destroyer sitting next to it by a good hundred feet.
With a steely resolve, Matt said into the phone, "CIC, signal. Tell them we are going to give those bastards everything we got. Prepare to make a torpedo attack." His hands involuntarily balled into fists of rage, "We can't go around them, and we can't go back. That leaves only one option." Matt spun to face Boggs, ordering, "Boats, have someone yank down that rag we have flying now, and hoist the battle flag."
"Aye aye sir," Boggs replied, then passed the word over the intercom. Matt couldn't see it, but he knew the oversized stars and stripes was being run up the mast halyard. That ought to show the Abyssals just who they were fighting. "Sir, Sparky reports full speed restored."
"Just in time," Matt muttered, then, in a voice that garnered no objection, ordered, "CIC, signal fleet, flank speed ahead," then he looked back at the helmsman, repeating, "Helm, all ahead flank."
"Aye sir, ahead flank." Halsey shuddered as water began to force its way around her damaged bow. Matt could feel the deck tilt upwards slightly as the stern dug in, and the ship picked up speed. He watched in horror as the battleship ahead opened fire with its forward turret. The huge shells moaned over his ship before slamming into the Enterprise several hundred yards behind. A fireball erupted on the carrier's flight deck, and a column of greasy, black smoke rose into the air. The carrier managed to duck into a wall of rain, disappearing from view. At least she would be safe from fire for several seconds.
"Exec, fire as they bear," Matt said in a cold voice. His eyes flashed with icy determination, and all of his earlier fears vanished in an instant.
"Aye, skipper." Matt watched as the 5" gun barked, and the remaining SM-6 missiles spat forth from her VLS cells. The destroyer seemed to pick up even more speed as she moved to cut off the Abyssals, almost as if she knew how much was at stake. It was clear to everyone that the only way to get out of this alive, was to sink the Abyssals in front of them. It was equally clear that this was impossible. Ahead waited the battleship, all several thousand tons of it.
As the first missiles hit, the Abyssal began a leisurely turn to present her broadside of six fourteen inch guns. Her secondary battery of four and five inch guns was entirely superfluous when compared to their power, and the destroyer hiding in the battleship's lee was quickly forgotten, despite its guns and deadly torpedoes. The additional threat it represented was insignificant when compared with the battleship. Several explosions framed the monster as the missiles struck, but it was clear that they had done little damage, if any.
All the attack had managed to accomplish was to earn the monster's attention. Matt watched as the big turrets began slowly rotating to point at his ship. Two seconds later, the battleship opened fire. She pulsed with flame from the bow to the stern as the big guns salvoed. Seconds later the thunderous roar of fourteen inch shells thundered toward them. They sounded louder than anything Matt had ever heard. He didn't even try to brace himself as his ship was thrown into hell.
The first salvo landed short, but it threw up a wall of water that washed over the entirety of the ship. Matt was drenched as spray cascaded through the shattered windows. Halsey dove through the wall of water thrown up by the main guns, but the splashes from the secondary guns continued, uninterrupted. A loud bang came from somewhere aft, and the ship shuddered, but Matt ignored it for now. A few of the VLS cells popped open on the foredeck and several LRASMs shot off into the storm. Matt watched as they nosed over and dove towards the Abyssal. The few that hit threw up balls of fire on the Abyssal's hull, but the damage they caused seemed almost insignificant against the monster's bulk.
Something went clang forward, and a five inch shell plowed a furrow in the damaged prow before ricocheting into the sea. The big anchor chain that normally lay taught across the deck suddenly went slack and whipped back as the anchor fell into the sea. The battleship fired another salvo from its main guns, less than three miles off. Damn, they were close. This time the shells barely flew over the ship, sounding almost like a large freight train as they passed. After several seconds of silence, the 5" finally replied with a suddenly pathetic sounding ka-whumph.
Matt had to judge their distance entirely by eye now, the last salvo had knocked out the rangefinder. "Wait for it," he said, holding up a hand. When he thought the angle looked right, he brought it down, "Now, left full rudder." Halsey shuddered as her bow swung sharply around. The monster seemed almost motionless, the destroyer tucked under her like a timid child. The Halsey was almost beam on now, and Matt shouted into the phone, "Starboard mount, fire." Five torpedoes chuffed from their tubes and lanced in the Abyssal's direction. When the Halsey had been first laid down, she had been built with two triple 12" torpedo tubes, one per side. As the war had heated up however, several changes had been made to the ships of the US Navy in an effort to increase their effectiveness against the Abyssals. The triple mount had been removed, and two quintuple 21" mounts were installed in their place. The torpedoes they carried were near identical copies of the ones Halsey's WWII ancestors took into battle. Except these worked. Matt found himself waiting with tense anticipation, watching as the battleship pulsed with another salvo. Matt was muttering under his breath as he waited, "Come on, come on." The buzz saw roar of the CIWS mount caused Matt to look up. Until now, the Halsey's single CIWS gun had been shadowed by her bulk. Now he wondered what it was shooting at, just as a thunderous clash caused the ship to lurch upward, and throw him onto the deck.
Halsey heaved sickeningly as a fourteen inch shell on a virtually flat trajectory slammed into the forward engine room, mere feet from where the earlier hit had landed. The shell managed to find the one part of the ship heavy enough to detonate it, the turbine mounting. The explosion threw everyone aboard to the deck and blew out a large section of the Halsey's side. Everything, and everyone, in the room was vaporized instantly by the rapidly expanding fireball, and a cloud of soot and smoke shot out of the forward funnel as hot gasses rushed up the uptakes. Instantly the Halsey's speed halved
Matt managed to crawl to his feet after several seconds, and looked around. The bridge was a mess. Pieces of equipment were strewn throughout the space, and the space had been plunged into darkness as the lights blinked out. It took several seconds for the emergency lanterns to pop on and bath the bridge in an eerie, red glow. To top things off the few remaining windows had been blown out, exposing all of them to the torrents of rain pelting the ship. Matt turned to look at Boggs, but the chief had already ducked out the aft hatch. He slowly raised the phone to his ear and croaked, "Is everyone alright?"
"I'm good, skipper," Wright replied from behind him. Her voice sounded weak, and he turned to see her still sprawled out across the deck. He pointed to a rating that was standing, and indicated that she needed help. The sailor nodded, and ran over to assist the injured lieutenant.
Matt reached for the phone, but had to lean over when he saw that it was dangling from its cord. "Damage report," he barked.
This time, Sparky's voice came over the line, sounding more than a little distraught, "We lost the forward engine room."
"How long to get it back?" Matt asked hopefully.
"No, you don't understand, sir. We didn't lose it, it's gone. The shell exploded inside. I think it also took out a large chunk of the hull. The engine room is flooding heavily, but the watertight doors are holding, for now. There's a fire in the decks around that space, but it's being contained."
"What can you give me, Sparky?" Matt said, his voice tinged with remorse.
"I've secured the starboard shaft. We'll have to make do with the port. It's all I can give you," Sparky replied. He sounded like he was blaming himself for the Halsey's injuries.
"Very well," Matt sighed, "Do what you can, and keep me informed." He stared back out at the Abyssal and saw something. Rapidly moving up Halsey's starboard side was another ship, it took him a second to realize that it was O'Kane. Matt felt a surge of pride as he saw the destroyer moving up to screen her wounded sister. His heart fell however when he got a good look at her. O'Kane's mast had been sheared off almost at the top of her bridge, and her radar antennas were nothing but a tangled mess. A large chunk had been taken out of her superstructure, and her forward CIWS mount was completely gone. The older destroyer looked even more chewed up than Halsey. Her torpedo tubes were rigged out, so maybe she had gotten off a salvo, but otherwise, she was a mess.
Matt didn't know why the other destroyer was charging like that, but already she had gotten the Abyssal's attention. The fire around Halsey slacked as O'Kane charged forward. She was giving them a chance, they could cut and run right now, all they had to do was turn away and leave O'Kane to the Abyssal. Matt looked around the bridge, trying to decide if that was what his crew wanted. There were some decisions that no captain wanted to ever have to make, and this was one of them. Abandon one ship to possibly save another, or continue the attack and possibly lose both? Matt just didn't know what to do. He looked up to see O'Kane shudder as a salvo from the battleship's secondaries exploded against her sides.
In that instant, Matt made up his mind. He couldn't live with that decision weighing on his conscious. They had run far enough already, if they were going to stand and fight, here was a good a place as any. "Helm bring about behind O'Kane. We still have one set of torpedoes, let's use them." Halsey shuddered as she swung her tortured bow around to point directly at the battleship. They needed to turn far enough to unshadow the port side torpedo tubes, and maybe breaking the formation would cause the Abyssal to split its fire.
"Sir," came the startled voice of one of the lookouts, "Enterprise is breaking out of the rain." Matt cursed. It was now or never, if they didn't stop this monster here, Enterprise would be all but lost.
"Sparky, I need all the speed you can get out of her. I don't care if we blow up the engines, we need to get there," Matt growled over the phone.
With a resigned sigh, Sparky replied, "Aye, sir, but we're definitely going to need a drydock after this one." Halsey groaned and vibrated as Sparky worked to coax every extra knot he could get out of her battered engines. Matt watched as the speed gauge began to slowly crawl up a few knots. It was almost as if the old girl knew exactly what was at stake and had decided to give it her all. She continued her turn until she passed O'Kane's stern going in the other direction. If it worked, this would put Halsey's unfired port torpedo tubes in line to hit the Abyssal, but it would also put her in the line of fire of all of the battleship's secondaries.
Matt raised the phone, and hesitantly asked, "CIC, what's the time on the torps?"
It took a minute for Sullivan to reply, and when it came the XO's voice sounded faint and scratchy, "Ten seconds." Matt nodded, ten seconds until they knew if their charge had been worth it. A loud bang came from forward as a five inch shell slammed into the fo'c'sle and careened off the deck. Taking most of the hatches for the forward VLS cell with it. The ship staggered again as a shell landed aft. The hits were almost constant now, and all Matt could do was pray that his ship would hold together long enough to make a difference.
"Three… two… one," Matt counted, then held his breath. Nothing, they had missed. "Prepare to fire--," he was interrupted as a snap of light, and looked up to see two towering columns of water rise against the battleship's flank. They had hit, the torps had hit. Matt wanted to shout with glee.
"Damn skipper, it worked," the helmsman commented. The entire bridge seemed to hold its breath as they watched to see what the monster would do now. They had definitely hurt the bastard, it was slowing to a crawl, and one of the forward turrets seemed to be jammed in place. The Abyssal began a quick turn, moving to avoid any other torpedoes. It was almost completely bow on to them now, and only a few of its secondaries could target them at this angle.
"Helm, take us alongside her. Let's jam our torps right up her ass," Matt snarled.
"Aye sir," the ship leaned as the helmsman lined her up with the battleship. In a few seconds they would be in position to fire off all of their torpedoes at a range where it would be impossible for the battleship to dodge them, but it would also put Halsey in the full broadside of the Abyssal's secondaries. They were more than capable of wrecking Matt's ship all by themselves. Then, the Abyssal destroyer, completely forgotten until now, shot out from under the battleship, and then sped off in the direction of the Enterprise. It took Matt a split second to realize what it was trying to accomplish.
"Shit, CIC, the tin can's making a run on Big E. Can you stop it," Matt barked over. There was no reply, but a moment later the 5" gun rotated outboard to aim at the destroyer trying to slip away. Against this target, the 5" was more than sufficient. They couldn't afford to break off from the battleship, not now. Not when they were this close. Halsey needed to make every shot from her 5" count. If that destroyer managed to launch its own torpedoes, then the Enterprise would be in serious trouble. The gun raised up and barked again, ka-whumph. It immediately fired again, then again, and again, keeping up a steady stream of fire at the running destroyer.
Shots slammed into its hull, and the Abyssal seemed to vibrate with each of the impacts. Hit after hit slammed into it until it suddenly convulsed with a brilliant fireball. Its hull jackknifed suddenly, its bow leaping out of the water to point skywards. The bridge cheered in delight, Matt included, but there was still the battleship. As if to make its presence known, the battleship flashed as its single operational forward turret fired. Matt watched as a fourteen inch shell slammed into the foredeck. It was on a flat enough trajectory that it skipped off the steel deck, but it slammed into the 5" gun as it went. The gun was ripped from the deck and sent spinning over the side. Matt's heart fell like a stone, now the only weapon his ship had left were the five torpedoes in the port mount. He looked over to judge the range to the battleship, and saw O'Kane pulling along their beam. The other destroyer had her starboard tubes rigged out, and it looked to Matt like they were planning on making a torpedo run of their own. Matt swore he saw a form standing on the other destroyer's bridgewing, giving a salute to his ship. Without thinking about it, Matt stepped out onto his own bridgewing and returned the salute.
Without planning it O'Kane had fallen in on the Abyssal's port side while the Halsey was charging up the starboard. They had caught the battleship in a crossfire, now all that was left was to finish the attack. The Battleship pulsed with rolling fire now as all of its secondaries opened fire. Five inch, four inch, and anti-aircraft machine gun rounds slammed into the Halsey, and they thrummed against her hull like the rain hammering her decks. Matt stepped back into the bridge just in time to see the helmsman be cut down by a stray round. He immediately grabbed the wheel. "Lieutenant, you up?" he shouted.
Lieutenant Wright staggeringly rose to her feet and nodded, "Yes, I'm good sir."
"Get on the 21MC. When I tell you to, give the order to fire the torpedoes," Matt said.
"Aye sir," Wright replied. Her voice still sounded shaky, and she wobbled a bit when she got to her feet, but it couldn't be helped at this point. She managed to make it over to his chair and receive the 21MC phone when a close hit rocked the bridge. Matt opened his eyes to see that he was lying on the deck. He tried to stand, but he felt like someone had whacked him repeatedly in the side with a baseball bat. Upon closer examination, he saw that his uniform was been shredded along his right side, and blood leaked from several dozen wounds. He slowly pulled himself back to his feet, but almost screamed as a lance of pain shot through his body. Eventually he managed to hold himself upright by leaning against the ship's wheel.
"Come on old girl," Matt muttered in a pleading voice, "Hold together, just now. Do this and I promise you'll get a nice long rest in the Pearl." They were very close now, so close that the Abyssal was having trouble rotating its secondaries fast enough to track the charging destroyer. They were almost there, a hundred more feet and they would be in position. Matt willed his broken, battered ship the last few feet. They had to do this. Then with a voice that was firm with command, Matt ordered, "Now, lieutenant."
Wright raised the phone and said, "Fire the torpedoes now." Matt gave it ten more seconds, then cranked the helm hard over, breaking away from the Abyssal. At this range it only took the fish thirty seconds to travel the distance between the destroyers and the battleship. Matt heard a massive roar and turned to see the beast bracketed by several explosions. The Abyssal seemed to be lifted out of the water by the force of the blasts. When the wall of water fell, Matt could see that the battleship wasn't moving anymore, and it was starting to list. The Abyssal was crippled, there was no doubt about it now.
Halsey continued to open the distance, running as fast as she could, but the Abyssal's guns barked again in defiance and rage. Most of the shots fell short, churning the water in the destroyer's wake, but a single round punched through the flight deck tearing down through several decks and out the bottom of the ship. Through machinery and wrecking the steering gear and the propeller shafts. With one shot, the Abyssal had disabled the Halsey's ability to maneuver and move. Matt suddenly found that his ship would no longer respond to his commands, she was trapped on her heading, and rapidly losing speed. He cursed loudly, "Fuck, what now?"
Wright was already on the 21MC, she replied a second later, "Sparky says that shot took out the steering gear, and the prop alleys. We can't get it back, not without a drydock." It was with grim realization that Matt came to the conclusion that he was dead. With no way to move or maneuver, it was only a matter of time before the battleship nailed them with a full salvo. Matt looked up at the Abyssal with grim determination. It was listing and low at the bow, but its turrets were still turning, still pointing at his ship. He expected the final salvo to land at any moment, and gave the monster a resigned look. That was when it exploded.
A bright flash and a thunderous explosion framed the Abyssal, and several columns of water rose along its flanks. Those were torpedo hits, they had to be. "Where did those torps come from?" Matt wondered aloud. Both destroyers had already launched all of their fish, and there hadn't been time to reload the mounts.
"Maybe Enterprise?" Wright asked. It was clear that she was just as surprised as Matt had been.
"Possibly," Matt muttered. Then looked back out at the monster that had harried them for the last ten minutes. The battleship had ceased all movement, and its guns had fallen silent. It was rapidly beginning to slip lower into the water, and as he watched, it exploded with a massive fireball. The detonation tore Abyssal in half, and it vanished within seconds.
It was clear now that the battle was over. The rain pounding the decks had begun to slacken, and the storm was already breaking up. Without the Abyssals there to sustain it, the squall was rapidly dissipating. Matt tried to walk over to his seat, but froze when pain shot through his body. He was reminded of the hit he took earlier and looked down to see the side of his uniform stained with blood. Damn, he would have to get that looked at. Limping now, he moved over to the front of the bridge, and took the 21MC phone from Wright. The young lieutenant seemed absolutely shell-shocked. She was simply staring ahead with a slack expression. Matt put a comforting hand on her shoulder as he asked over the phone, "Exec, Sparky, is everyone alright?" There was no response. He looked down at the handset in confusion. It was a sound-powered phone, it should work all the time. His question was answered a second later when a tired and dejected looking Sparky walked onto the bridge.
With a loud sigh, he announced, "The electrics were cut a deck below you. I'm surprised you could still give helm commands." Matt looked up at the engineer. His face was streaked black with soot and grease, and his hair was an absolute mess.
"How does she look, commander?"
With a resigned sigh, Sparky replied, "She's gone skipper. The flooding aft is too much, we can't handle it, not with only two engines. I give us maybe half an hour." Matt felt like a part of him died with that statement.
"Isn't there something you can do?" he pleaded. He couldn't lose his ship, they had won. Why would she give up now?
Sparky shook his head and looked down at the deck, "Sir, I can't do anything. Believe me I could if I wanted to, but… but the damage is too bad. I recommend…" Sparky had to take a gulp of air to clear his throat, "I recommend that we abandon ship as soon as possible. She's settling pretty evenly right now, but I have no idea how long that will last." Matt nodded solemnly, then looked around the bridge. The space was a mess. Equipment was strewn everywhere, and water sloshed across the deck lapping at Matt's feet. At least two of the crewmen had been cut down during the battle, and their blood soaked the deck.
"Damn, I leave for five minutes," Matt looked up to see Boggs stick his head through the hatch, "Sparky give you the word, skipper?"
"Yeah," Matt sighed, "Go ahead Boats, pass the word for abandon ship."
"Aye aye, sir," Boggs replied, his voice sounding much deeper than it normally did. He began to duck back out of the bridge, then changed his mind and stopped. "You did a good job skipper. She was a good boat," Boggs said.
"She still is a good boat, at least for a while longer," Matt replied, "Go, help people off. I'll deal with everyone topside."
"Aye sir," Boggs said, then disappeared down the companionway.
"Come on, Sparky. Let's get everyone out," Matt ordered, then reached over to grab the still shell-chocked Wright. He slowly began to work his way off his dying ship.
[][][]
It amazed Captain Dover just how quickly things could change. The ship that had been his home for almost a year now, was slowly dying. The crew was up on deck now, milling around the fo'c'sle while corpsman moved through administering first aid, and the surviving officers tried to get a head count. There were a lot of faces missing from this group, and Matt couldn't help but feel that he had let his men down. He had promised to protect them, and now some of them were gone. He was currently standing in the superstructure. Partly for the better vantage point, and because he was trying not to let the crew see how much pain he was in. The shrapnel wounds he had taken earlier hurt like a bitch now, and Matt was having trouble even standing.
"Skipper, you alright?" Matt looked over to see Chief Boggs pushing his way through the mob of crewmen.
"I'll manage," Matt replied, "How're things looking, Chief?"
"XO is putting the RHIBs in the water, and we've already dropped all the rafts that weren't torn up," Boggs reported, "There should be more than enough room for everyone."
"Finally, some good news," Matt said dryly, "I definitely need some of that." Matt could tell that the Halsey didn't have much left in her. The once proud ship had started to list to port, and the angle of the deck was getting worse with every passing second. It wouldn't be long before she turned turtle and capsized. The hull was creaking and groaning now, almost as if the old girl was screaming in protest. She had done well to hold on this long, and Matt hoped she would hold on just long enough to get the rest of his crew off. "Keep them moving Boats," Matt said, reaching up to put a hand on the other man's shoulder.
"Sir, you can leave now," Boggs tried to suggest.
"No, Boats, not until I know everyone's off," Matt replied. He knew that it was his duty as the captain, and maybe doing that would help to assuage the guilt he felt over losing so many.
Giving a shaky salute, Boggs replied, "Aye aye, sir." The big senior chief dashed off, moving to help hand out life jackets. They were climbing over the side now. Someone had begun to throw the big, inflatable life rafts into the water, and they were quickly being filled. The fo'c'sle began to slowly empty as survivors went over the side. After a while, Matt and Chief Boggs were the only ones left on the ship. "Need a hand, skipper?" Boggs asked, then wrapped an arm around Matt's shoulders.
"Thanks, Boats," Matt replied, and together, the two walked to the rail. The burbling roar of an outboard engine drew Matt's gaze over the side. Carefully making his way through the clusters of sailors, was the XO in one of the ship's boats.
"Someone need a ride," Sullivan shouted, then brought the boat to a stop under the rail. Matt judged the distance from the rail to the boat. With the list Halsey had taken on, it was only about ten feet. Even then he didn't relish the thought of making that jump. It was with much pain that he finally made it. 11
"You good, skipper?" Boggs asked as he fell into the boat.
"I'll live," Matt replied. Getting down had taken a lot out of him, and the captain couldn't do much more then lie in the bottom of the boat. Several shouts made him look over. What he saw was impossible, it had to be. Moving through the rafts and floating sailors, were two girls. What was impossible about them, was the fact that they were standing on top of the water. They looked like teenagers. They moved through the group of sailors towards the boat.
"Are you the skipper?" she sounded confused, like she couldn't figure out what was happening.
With all the strength he could muster, Matt said, "I am, Commander Matthew Dover."
"I'm sorry, captain," she said, then cast her eyes down at the water, "If we had been a minute faster, we could have stopped that monster."
"What are you talking about, little lady?" Boggs asked, speaking for the first time.
"If we had put our torpedoes in the water a few minutes sooner, we could have saved your ship," she replied, voice sullen.
"What?" Matt said, now he really was confused, "Just who--what are you?"
She looked him in the face. Her warm, brown eyes meeting his steel, blue ones. "USS Nicholas, DD-449. If you want a Fletcher, there are none better than me," she pointed over her shoulder to the second girl, "She's Charles Ausburn."
"Call me Charlie, herr Kapitän," she said, "DD-570, flag of DesRon 23."
Nicholas spoke up again, "I don't really know what I am right now, but when I woke up, I saw that… thing attacking your ship. We launched torps at it, but it was too late to stop its last salvo."
Sudden realization dawned on Matt, "That last shot, the one we thought came from Big E that was you?"
"We sank it, if that's what you mean."
"Just what are you?" Matt asked in slack-jawed wonder.
"All I know sir, is that I used to be a destroyer," Nicholas replied, "And now I'm not."
Sullivan coughed, making Matt look up at his XO, "As touching as this is, we probably ought to get the men out of the water. O'Kane is ready to take them, we just have to drag the rafts over there."
"Very well, exec. Get going," Matt said, then looked at the girls, "If you want a lift, we have the room."
"Okay," Nicholas replied, then scrambled over the boat's gunwale. It took her a few times, and if it hadn't been for a helping hand from Chief Boggs, she would have tumbled back into the water. Nicholas landed in the bottom of the boat, and lay there for several seconds. A moment later, she was wrapped in a bright light, and the equipment she had strapped to herself disappeared, leaving a small, damp girl lying in the boat. Charlie followed a minute later, with a bit more success. A moment later, Sullivan gunned the outboard, and the boat took off.
A few minutes later Matt looked back to see Halsey finish capsizing. Her bright, red bottom and shiny, bronze screws were exposed for all to see. A moment after that, the ship that Matt had called home, his ship, slipped beneath the waves. Boggs stood up and took off his hat with a flourish. With a voice uncharacteristically filled with emotion, he said, "Take off your hats boys. There goes a good ship."
Nicholas stood next to the Chief, and said, "May she find peace wherever she ends up." Matt wiped his cheek as hot tears began to well up. He may have failed his ship, but he damn sure wasn't going to fail her crew.
In a husky voice, Matt ordered, "Take us home, exec. Take us home." He looked over at the two, strange girls sitting in the boat, and asked, "So, what's your story?"
"That may take time to explain, herr Kapitän," Charlie replied.
"That's alright, we have plenty of time, and I'm certainly not going anywhere," Matt replied. Nicholas and Charlie looked at each other for a long moment, then began to tell their life stories. While he was listening, Matt suddenly had a strange feeling that losing his ship was a beginning, rather than an end.
Admiral Arleigh Burke, 1961
Chapter 1:
They were losing this war. There was no way to deny it now. No hope that a sudden victory would turn the tide back in their favor. They had simply lost too much to the monsters. The tired ships and weary men of the United States Navy had thrown themselves repeatedly at the Abyssals in the hopes of at least slowing their advance, but in the end, nothing they could do. So many ships, so many lives had been lost in the attempt, and now the Navy was almost nothing left to stand against the Abyssals. For the remaining ships, there lay only a single option, to run. Maybe in fleeing they could preserve the handful of ships they had left for a day when they might make a difference.
Commander Matthew L. Dover, USN, captain of the destroyer USS Halsey, sat in the wardroom, sipping at a cup of lukewarm coffee. It tasted horrible, but at this point Matt would have gladly drunk bilgewater if it was laced with caffeine. He hadn't even known it was possible to be this tired, and he had no idea how much longer he could go. The strain was already beginning to show on his body, and his normally bright, blue eyes were dull and bloodshot. His face was covered with a sprinkling of brown stubble that made him look much older than his thirty six years. He couldn't remember the last time he had looked like this bad, but he just couldn't bring himself to rest. Not with the threat of attack bearing down.
Not thirty six hours ago, his ship had participated in the largest battle to date. It was to be a last, desperate attempt to check the Abyssal's implacable advance across the Pacific. In the waters off Midway Island, ever ship the Navy had left sortied to meet them, including the only three remaining carriers in the Pacific. It was to be a grand gesture of defiance to the Abyssals, and a victory would have drawn a line of defiance right in their path. In the end, a gesture was all it was. Nearly every single ship that had joined the battle was lost, and now the only carrier left was the Enterprise. The order to retreat had come during the night, and the surviving ships had begun a mad dash to safety. It had been simple luck that Halsey had found one of her sisters, O'Kane, in the confusion, and then they had fallen in company with the Enterprise. Lending their own meager power to the big ship's defense. They had come a long way since then, and in a few hours they would be safely secure in Pearl Harbor. So why then did Matt feel so anxious?
He idly took a sip from his mug, and looked up to see Lieutenant Commander Evan Sullivan slide into a seat across the table. Sullivan was Matt's executive officer, his second in command. The XO was nearly a polar opposite from his captain right now. Sullivan had his usual happy-go-lucky expression plastered across his face, and looked for the world like he wasn't worried about anything. He took one look at Matt, then announced, "I know that look, sir. You're worried."
Matt let out a derisive snort. "No, exec, I'm not worried. Scared shitless, maybe, but not worried," Matt replied, dryly.
"I don't know why. Contrary to Sparky's bitchin, the ship is fine," Sullivan replied. He was referring to the Halsey's engineering officer, Lieutenant Commander Rick Smith, known to the crew as Sparky. The man was just a tad eccentric, but Matt knew of no better engineer in the fleet. He could keep the turbines running with nothing more than duct tape and WD-40 if Matt asked him to. "Hell, the only problem I see is having only a pair of DDGs."
"You'll understand when you get your own ship, exec," Matt said, patting Sullivan on the shoulder as he stood, "The first, second, and third thing on your mind at all times is her safety. Want some coffee?"
"Sure. It taste like burnt, day old beans soaked in stale bilgewater?" Sullivan asked.
"You know it," Matt deadpanned, then walked over to where the carafes were secured. Matt grabbed an empty mug off the rack and began to fill it. He said idly while the cup filled, "I can't wait to get back to Pearl. Get some R&R, maybe actually manage to get some drydock time. The old girl certainly needs it."
"She'll hold together," Sullivan replied, "She is Halsey after all. Hit hard, hit fast, hit often, and all that."
"She's certainly earned a rest, we all have," Matt commented, wistfully. His ship had been through a lot over the last few months. Halsey had been an old ship to begin with, almost twenty years of continuous service now. But even if she was old, she certainly had a lot of fight in her. She had participated in almost every major campaign of this war, and Matt still didn't know if it was due to his skill as a captain, or pure luck that she had yet to take serious damage. "When will we face something we can't beat?" he said, voicing the thought that kept coming into his mind.
"Never doubt the girl's luck skipper, she'll pull us through," Sullivan commented. Matt shook his head, why did he sound so melancholy all of a sudden?
"I'm sorry, exec. It's a captain's job to worry needlessly," Matt said, sliding a full mug across the table.
"You're wrong about that, skipper. Worryin's my job," Matt looked up to see Senior Chief Rowin Boggs standing in the hatchway. Boggs was the ship's Command Master Chief, the highest ranking enlisted man aboard. Boggs fit the stereotype of an old time noncom to a T, being gruff an stern most of the time. He was the one who ensured that the crew carried out Matt's orders.
"Morning Boats, what are you doing this deep in officer's country?" Matt asked.
"Skipper and the XO disappear, there's only about three places they can be. Wardroom being one," Boggs replied in his usual gruff manner.
"So is there a reason you need us, or is this a social call?" Matt asked, easing himself back into a seat. Boggs pulled out a sheet of paper and walked over to hand it to Matt.
"Comms got that about ten minutes ago. Telex from Pearl," Boggs said. Matt took the paper and began to skim through is. His face fell as he read.
"What is it?" Sullivan asked, placing his mug back on the table.
"Patrol flight spotted some Abyssals. Couldn't identify them past 'Abyssals', but they're headed straight for us," Matt's voice sounded distant as he read. He slammed the telex on the table and reached up to rub his face in frustration, "All told, that piece of information is about two hour old. Why can't we ever get this stuff when it's relevant?"
"What do we do?" Sullivan asked. His normal air of joviality was gone, replaced by cool professionalism.
"The only thing we can do," Matt replied, stretching as he stood, "We fight them, exec." He turned to look at Boggs. The chief raised a questioning eyebrow, silently asking for orders. Boggs had no idea what to do, but the old time noncom would never admit that, especially not where the crew might overhear him. "Chief, make sure the crew is ready." That was all Matt needed to say. Boggs nodded, then left with a look of determination on his face. Matt drained the rest of his coffee, then looked at Sullivan, "Get down to CIC, exec. I'm headed up to the bridge."
"Aye aye, sir," Sullivan replied, then raised his mug in salute. Matt began to move out, but stopped when Sullivan said, "And sir, good luck."
"Hopefully we won't need that, exec," Matt replied, then ducked into the corridor. It didn't take him long to reach the bridge.
He was greeted by the customary call of, "Captain on deck," as he stepped through the hatch.
"As you were," he replied out of reflex, "Keep the deck lieutenant, I'm just looking."
Lieutenant Sandra Wright, the current officer of the deck nodded, then replied, "Aye sir, I have the deck." As the OOD, Wright currently had command of the ship, Matt didn't want to change over just yet. Wright was a young, just barely into her second sea tour as an officer, but she showed promise. Matt wordlessly stepped through the bridge, and then flopped down in his chair at the front of the space. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he knew there was something out there. And it was hunting his ship.
[][][]
It was amazing just how quickly things could change. One minute Matt was looking out at blue skies, and the next there was a growing cloud on the horizon to their west. No one knew why the Abyssals were always wrapped in storm, perhaps it was nature herself trying to fight them? Already. Matt could feel the air growing colder, and when he looked up at the ship's barometer, it was dropping like a stone. With grim realization, he saw that the Abyssals had managed to put themselves right between the Enterprise and Pearl Harbor, perhaps the worst place for them to pop up. There was no way they could avoid them. They would have to fight. With all the strength he could muster, Matt said, "I have the deck, lieutenant. Go ahead and sound general quarters." He silently prayed that he hadn't just signed their death warrants.
With a wavering voice, Lieutenant Wright replied, "Aye sir, you have the deck. Sound general quarters, aye sir," she turned to the boatswain of the watch and ordered, "Bosun, sound general quarters." The man nodded, then walked to the 1MC general address box.
He rang the ship's bell loudly, then said, "General quarters, general quarters all hands, man your battlestations." The Halsey came alive with the rhythmic gong-gong-gong of the general alarm. The deck vibrated and rattled as the crew ran to their stations. Covers were ripped off weapons, and safety pins removed. The bridge crew had to stand aside as Marine gunners ran through to man the .50 caliber machine guns mounted on the bridge wings. Small arms were issued, kevlar body armor and helmets were passed out. The damage control teams put on their firefighting gear and broke out damcon gear. In the combat information center, every station was turned on, bathing the space in a harsh, blue glow. Commander Sullivan accepted a headset and moved to stand in the center of the room, taking his place as the officer in charge of the CIC.
One of the junior crewmembers broke out the anti-flash gear and Matt wasted no time donning the protective hood and gloves. Wright stood at the comm panel, relaying readiness reports as they came in, until she announced, "All sections report manned and ready, sir."
"Very well," Matt replied, then looked over at the chronometer to note the time, "Four minutes, not good. Lieutenant, inform Chief Boggs that the deck division was the slowest. He ought to have some interesting words with them later." Several members of the bridge crew cringed at the thought of the Senior Chief's ire.
"The crew is tired, sir," Wright commented grimly.
"As much as I'd like to, I can't fix that," Matt commented, then looked out the bridge windows. What he saw made him shudder. The blue sky was completely gone, replaced by an inky blackness that flashed and pulsated raw evil. The wind had begun to whip across the deck, and it howled through any open hatch. The sea was beginning to run rough, and the deck had already begun to roll. Matt watched waves begin to crash over the bow, leaving the fo'c'sle awash. Rain fell in great sheets, creating wafting, opaque curtains of water that were almost impossible to see through. The cover they presented worked both ways. The Abyssals couldn't see them, but Matt had no idea where the Abyssals were. He reached down to grab the 21MC phone and said, "CIC, I need a picture. Things are getting pretty bad up here."
"Radar's workin on a picture," Sullivan replied over the phone, "But the returns are jumpin around like frogs on a skillet, per usual. They're out there, but I can't give you anything solid." The Abyssals defied all logic when it came to radar. It was possible to spot them, almost easy in fact, but to make any sense of their returns was no easy task. They were always fuzzy as hell, and jumped around the scope. It took even an experienced radar operator time to sort through the mess, time which Halsey didn't have.
"We might not have a minute, exec," Matt replied, slamming the phone back into its cradle. He looked up at the storm enveloping his ship, trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything through the haze.
"Sir, look there," Wright said, pointing at something ahead. Through the miasma of rain and spray, the Enterprise's deck flashed. For a moment Matt thought that the carrier had been hit. Then he realized he was watching the flash of a jet's afterburners.
"We just might get some air support after all," he muttered. He doubted that even as he said it. These days SOP called for a carrier to launch all of its planes as quickly as possible in order to minimize the chances of a deck fire. The planes were launched regardless of whether or not they had been loaded. He had heard horror stories of pilots going into battle armed with nothing more than cannon ammo, and the rounds in their sidearm. He hoped the Enterprise's planes could help them today, but wasn't counting on it. The jangling raaaa of the bridge phone broke Matt from his thoughts.
"We got a picture," Sullivan announced without preamble. Matt reached over to switch the circuit to the bridge speakers, "Three contacts, two small, and one big. Range is ten thousand, closing at ten knots."
"Two destroyers and a cruiser?" Wright suggested hopefully.
"No, the Abyssals may be cocky, but they aren't that cocky. Probably two cruisers and a battleship," Matt replied with grimly, "They want Big E dead." He raised the phone to ask, "Any word from fleet?"
There was a momentary pause, and Matt thought he could hear the XO sigh on the other end of the line, "Fleet says to break formation with O'Kane and advance. The last order was, 'Protect the Enterprise, at all cost'." Matt's eyes closed momentarily as the weight of that order fell on his shoulders. The chances of them living through this day just shrank, exponentially. In order to give the carrier time to escape, he would have to put his ship right in the Abyssal's cross hairs.
In a voice that was strangely distant, he replied, "Very well, keep me informed." He kept the handset gripped tightly in his hand as he ordered the helmsman, "Come left, steer course 220. All engines ahead flank."
"Come left, steer course 220, all engines ahead flank, aye sir." There was a tinge of sullen resignation from the helmsman as he carried out the orders.
"Sir, why did they give that order?" Wright asked, a note of worry evident in her voice.
"They need us to protect the carrier. So that is exactly what we are going to do," Matt replied, he knew that he had to keep his voice firm to reassure Wright. The last thing he needed right now was for his bridge officers to panic. Matt raised the phone to his ear, "CIC, we have a missile solution yet?"
"Radar says he has a tentative solution, but no track just yet. Wait one," Sullivan replied almost immediately.
"Exec, we are rapidly running out of time and ocean," Matt said, taking measured breaths. If they couldn't get missiles on target soon, then they would all be in trouble.
"Working on it, skipper, but the returns are bouncin all over the place," Sullivan replied, then spoke again as something was passed to him, "Skipper, O'Kane has formed up behind us, they're ready to engage targets as we see fit."
Matt took a deep breath to calm himself, then replied, "Very well, acknowledge, and tell them we'll transmit them a firing solution just as soon as we have it."
A new voice came on the circuit causing Matt's head to snap around, "Bridge, starboard lookout new contact, bearing 120, range 98 double 0, closing fast. Looks like a cruiser." Matt peered through the bridge windows, and spotted the silhouette of the contact. He had a hard time making it out through the constant rain and darkness though. A tracer arced past the windows before exploding into the orange white flame of an illumination round.
"Where did that come from?" Wright asked after a moment of stunned silence.
"Probably O'Kane," Matt replied offhand, "Glad someone was on the ball." He looked back to see what the flare had revealed, and immediately his blood went cold. Emerging from a wall of rain was an Abyssal. From the outside, it looked like a ship, an ancient ship. Its prow was sharp and its sides were flat. By all rights, this thing should be easy to kill, but looks can be deceiving. It's eight and six inch guns hit with way more punch than they had a right too. A well placed salvo would cripple Halsey. It was also devilishly fast, Matt had seen one just like it break thirty knots before.
"CIC, are you seeing this?" Matt asked. He hoped the crew couldn't hear the hesitation in his voice, and suddenly felt the pang of anxiousness returning. He didn't know why, they had been in battle before, but had never felt this gnawing feeling of apprehension and dread in his gut. Hell, he had been in battles with them yesterday, but he had never felt this way about one. There was just something different about this one, and Matt couldn't figure out what it was.
Almost as if the Abyssal knew that it had been spotted, its main turrets began to slowly rotate. It also began a lazy turn, moving to unshadow its full broadside. "No missile track, working on it," Sullivan replied, "Recommend engaging with mount 51."
"Very well, batteries release." A second later the 5" gun down on the fo'c'sle barked with a loud ka-whumph. Matt watched for the shot to land, but a second shot struck before the Halsey's. He looked over to see that O'Kane had opened up with her 5". The shots caused no discernable damage when they struck, just sparked off the plate. If one thing could be said for the Abyssals, it was that they were tough. The Navy didn't have a gun that could penetrate their flanks when the war started. There had been a scramble to adopt an armor piercing round capable of damaging the Abyssals. Matt was glad that the Halsey's magazines had been filled with said shells the last time they had left Diego. Of course they had expended some of the rounds over the last few days, but they still had quite a few left.
The rounds still needed to hit almost flat on to be able to penetrate. The angle the Abyssal presented was too great, and most of the shells skipped off harmlessly. The gun kept up a steady stream of fire. Shifting its aim up, hoping to score a lucky hit on the thinner superstructure. There was still no visible damage after landing several hits, and the Abyssal continued its advance. It would be able to present its full broadside in a minute. "CIC, I hope you have something better for me," Matt said, his voice rising steadily, "Or else this fucker's going to get off a broadside." Matt slammed a fist into his armrest in frustration. It was clear that he was agitated, he never swore over the radio.
"Sir, launching SM-6s on a radar beam," Sullivan replied a moment later, "TAO says that could work."
"Do it. You are weapons free."
"Roger weapons free. Birds away." It only took a moment for the Halsey to be bathed in fire. VLS hatches popped open and about thirty SM-6 missiles began to fly away. At the same time, Halsey shot an invisible beam of radio energy at the Abyssal, giving the missiles something solid to track. They chased after the beam like dogs running after a favorite toy. Even with the ship guiding the missiles, an unsettling number of them fell short, impacting harmlessly with the sea, passing over it without exploding. The Abyssals just seemed to make technology go haywire with their presence. In this case though, sheer saturation was able to solve the problem. About six of the missiles impacted the Abyssal, causing it to disappear in fire and smoke.
Even then, Matt didn't have high hopes for success. The SM-6 was really an anti-aircraft missile. Its warhead just wasn't able to penetrate the Abyssal's armor. It was like trying to kill a tank with a BB gun. When the smoke cleared, it was clear that they had done some damage to the Abyssal. Its decks were a mess, and several of its secondary guns had been thrown from their mounts. But it was still sailing, still fighting. As Matt watched in horror, its guns barked out a ragged broadside. He didn't even have a chance to shout before the shots struck, causing his ship to ring and vibrate like a bass drum. He saw a shell impact with the bow, causing the prow to rend upwards with sheer force. The bridge shuddered violently, and a few of the windows burst inwards, showering an enlisted rating with glass. The ship seemed to slow, and Matt feared that the engines had been knocked out. Then, just as soon as it had begun, the attack ended. "Is everyone alright?" Matt asked breaking the tense silence.
Someone rushed over to the injured rating, and shouted, "Corpsman, we need a corpsman."
"Medical team to the bridge, medical team to the bridge," Matt called over the phone, then rotated in his chair, "How does my ship look, lieutenant?" Wright was one step ahead of her captain, she already had a headset on and was listening to incoming reports
"Sir, we took one in the forward berthing spaces, there are casualties. The aft deckhouse and the flight deck were hit. The helo's wrecked," she reported, sounding downcast.
"Anything else?"
"A few, new holes in the aft funnel, and the forward engine room was hit, but the shot went clean through. Made a mess of the conduits and wiring though. Sparky's working on bypassing it, and we should have full speed back soon." Matt was about to reply when his voice was drowned out by a loud roar. At first he thought his ship had been attacked again, but then he saw it, there were several missiles streaking past his ship. They had come from the other two destroyers in the van. The entire bridge held their breath as they passed, waiting and hoping that they would fly true.
Several fell short or impacted without exploding, but as Stalin once said, "Quantity has a quality all of its own." Several of the missiles detonated against the Abyssal. It only takes one shot to destroy a ship, but said shot has to land in exactly the right spot. While the Abyssal was heavily armored, there were still gaps in its defense. With the amount of missiles being hurled at the cruiser, the chances that one would find a gap rose significantly. This time it was the upper works. A missile managed to arc down and punch through the thinly armored roof of a turret, and detonate inside the barbette, setting off the Abyssal's remaining stores of powder. Matt watched as the Abyssal disappeared in a ball of orange fire. All that was left when the flames dissipated was a smoldering hulk very quickly slipping beneath the waves. Matt didn't know who started the cheer, but it quickly spread throughout the bridge. Matt even found himself joining in for a bit.
Then pragmatism won out, and he raised the phone, "CIC, how we looking?"
"Not good skipper. The cupboards are starting to run bare. That last attack pretty much ran us dry of SM-6s. We still have the Sea Sparrows, but you know how well they work." Matt had to nod at that. The Sea Sparrow was a medium range SAM, and had a smaller warhead then the SM-6, and was couldn't even scratch the Abyssal. "Full stock of LRASMs, about five more SM's, and about 75 percent on the cannon rounds."
"Carry on then," Matt replied, his voice sounding oddly hollow, and then replaced the phone in its cradle. Matt leaned back in his chair and removed his helmet to wipe the layer of sweat that had accumulated on his brow. Damn, when did it get so cold in here?
The sound of the bosun's voice made him look over his shoulder, Boggs had just stepped onto the bridge, "Skipper, Sparky says he'll have engines back in about ten minutes."
"I heard," Matt replied simply, "Where have you been, Boats?" Boggs' battle station was on the bridge as the boatswain of the watch, but he had been absent since the battle began.
"I got stuck aft when the shell wrecked the hangar. Took me this long to pick myself clear," Boggs replied, "It's a mess back there skipper. I'm surprised the chopper didn't explode. The whole aft end of the ship is shot to hell." Matt grimaced, he had known the damage was bad, but he didn't realize how bad.
"Very well, man your station, Senior Chief."
"Aye aye, sir," Boggs replied, then relieved Wright from the 1MC set.
Matt got about five minutes of peace before a frantic call came over the bridge speakers, "Bridge, CIC, Big E just radioed that her planes found something."
"What?" Matt asked, grabbing his phone.
"Surface contact to our front, they cannot identify at this time, storm is too thick. They broke off, we aren't getting any help from them."
"Damn," Matt replied, then grabbed his binoculars off the bulkhead. Ahead, vague at first, but steadily growing sharper, were two dark forms.
"Jesus Christ," muttered Boggs, his face going suddenly slack. Before them, racing to prevent their escape, were two Abyssals, a destroyer and an absolutely massive battleship. There was a collective gasp as the bridge realized what was ahead of them.
After a minute spent studying the Abyssal through his binoculars, Matt spoke, "It's a battleship alright, one of their big heavies," with a sigh he said, "They really don't want us to get away." The thing looked like the combination of at least four different classes of battleship. The superstructure looked more like it had been grown, rather than built. It dwarfed the destroyer sitting next to it by a good hundred feet.
With a steely resolve, Matt said into the phone, "CIC, signal. Tell them we are going to give those bastards everything we got. Prepare to make a torpedo attack." His hands involuntarily balled into fists of rage, "We can't go around them, and we can't go back. That leaves only one option." Matt spun to face Boggs, ordering, "Boats, have someone yank down that rag we have flying now, and hoist the battle flag."
"Aye aye sir," Boggs replied, then passed the word over the intercom. Matt couldn't see it, but he knew the oversized stars and stripes was being run up the mast halyard. That ought to show the Abyssals just who they were fighting. "Sir, Sparky reports full speed restored."
"Just in time," Matt muttered, then, in a voice that garnered no objection, ordered, "CIC, signal fleet, flank speed ahead," then he looked back at the helmsman, repeating, "Helm, all ahead flank."
"Aye sir, ahead flank." Halsey shuddered as water began to force its way around her damaged bow. Matt could feel the deck tilt upwards slightly as the stern dug in, and the ship picked up speed. He watched in horror as the battleship ahead opened fire with its forward turret. The huge shells moaned over his ship before slamming into the Enterprise several hundred yards behind. A fireball erupted on the carrier's flight deck, and a column of greasy, black smoke rose into the air. The carrier managed to duck into a wall of rain, disappearing from view. At least she would be safe from fire for several seconds.
"Exec, fire as they bear," Matt said in a cold voice. His eyes flashed with icy determination, and all of his earlier fears vanished in an instant.
"Aye, skipper." Matt watched as the 5" gun barked, and the remaining SM-6 missiles spat forth from her VLS cells. The destroyer seemed to pick up even more speed as she moved to cut off the Abyssals, almost as if she knew how much was at stake. It was clear to everyone that the only way to get out of this alive, was to sink the Abyssals in front of them. It was equally clear that this was impossible. Ahead waited the battleship, all several thousand tons of it.
As the first missiles hit, the Abyssal began a leisurely turn to present her broadside of six fourteen inch guns. Her secondary battery of four and five inch guns was entirely superfluous when compared to their power, and the destroyer hiding in the battleship's lee was quickly forgotten, despite its guns and deadly torpedoes. The additional threat it represented was insignificant when compared with the battleship. Several explosions framed the monster as the missiles struck, but it was clear that they had done little damage, if any.
All the attack had managed to accomplish was to earn the monster's attention. Matt watched as the big turrets began slowly rotating to point at his ship. Two seconds later, the battleship opened fire. She pulsed with flame from the bow to the stern as the big guns salvoed. Seconds later the thunderous roar of fourteen inch shells thundered toward them. They sounded louder than anything Matt had ever heard. He didn't even try to brace himself as his ship was thrown into hell.
The first salvo landed short, but it threw up a wall of water that washed over the entirety of the ship. Matt was drenched as spray cascaded through the shattered windows. Halsey dove through the wall of water thrown up by the main guns, but the splashes from the secondary guns continued, uninterrupted. A loud bang came from somewhere aft, and the ship shuddered, but Matt ignored it for now. A few of the VLS cells popped open on the foredeck and several LRASMs shot off into the storm. Matt watched as they nosed over and dove towards the Abyssal. The few that hit threw up balls of fire on the Abyssal's hull, but the damage they caused seemed almost insignificant against the monster's bulk.
Something went clang forward, and a five inch shell plowed a furrow in the damaged prow before ricocheting into the sea. The big anchor chain that normally lay taught across the deck suddenly went slack and whipped back as the anchor fell into the sea. The battleship fired another salvo from its main guns, less than three miles off. Damn, they were close. This time the shells barely flew over the ship, sounding almost like a large freight train as they passed. After several seconds of silence, the 5" finally replied with a suddenly pathetic sounding ka-whumph.
Matt had to judge their distance entirely by eye now, the last salvo had knocked out the rangefinder. "Wait for it," he said, holding up a hand. When he thought the angle looked right, he brought it down, "Now, left full rudder." Halsey shuddered as her bow swung sharply around. The monster seemed almost motionless, the destroyer tucked under her like a timid child. The Halsey was almost beam on now, and Matt shouted into the phone, "Starboard mount, fire." Five torpedoes chuffed from their tubes and lanced in the Abyssal's direction. When the Halsey had been first laid down, she had been built with two triple 12" torpedo tubes, one per side. As the war had heated up however, several changes had been made to the ships of the US Navy in an effort to increase their effectiveness against the Abyssals. The triple mount had been removed, and two quintuple 21" mounts were installed in their place. The torpedoes they carried were near identical copies of the ones Halsey's WWII ancestors took into battle. Except these worked. Matt found himself waiting with tense anticipation, watching as the battleship pulsed with another salvo. Matt was muttering under his breath as he waited, "Come on, come on." The buzz saw roar of the CIWS mount caused Matt to look up. Until now, the Halsey's single CIWS gun had been shadowed by her bulk. Now he wondered what it was shooting at, just as a thunderous clash caused the ship to lurch upward, and throw him onto the deck.
Halsey heaved sickeningly as a fourteen inch shell on a virtually flat trajectory slammed into the forward engine room, mere feet from where the earlier hit had landed. The shell managed to find the one part of the ship heavy enough to detonate it, the turbine mounting. The explosion threw everyone aboard to the deck and blew out a large section of the Halsey's side. Everything, and everyone, in the room was vaporized instantly by the rapidly expanding fireball, and a cloud of soot and smoke shot out of the forward funnel as hot gasses rushed up the uptakes. Instantly the Halsey's speed halved
Matt managed to crawl to his feet after several seconds, and looked around. The bridge was a mess. Pieces of equipment were strewn throughout the space, and the space had been plunged into darkness as the lights blinked out. It took several seconds for the emergency lanterns to pop on and bath the bridge in an eerie, red glow. To top things off the few remaining windows had been blown out, exposing all of them to the torrents of rain pelting the ship. Matt turned to look at Boggs, but the chief had already ducked out the aft hatch. He slowly raised the phone to his ear and croaked, "Is everyone alright?"
"I'm good, skipper," Wright replied from behind him. Her voice sounded weak, and he turned to see her still sprawled out across the deck. He pointed to a rating that was standing, and indicated that she needed help. The sailor nodded, and ran over to assist the injured lieutenant.
Matt reached for the phone, but had to lean over when he saw that it was dangling from its cord. "Damage report," he barked.
This time, Sparky's voice came over the line, sounding more than a little distraught, "We lost the forward engine room."
"How long to get it back?" Matt asked hopefully.
"No, you don't understand, sir. We didn't lose it, it's gone. The shell exploded inside. I think it also took out a large chunk of the hull. The engine room is flooding heavily, but the watertight doors are holding, for now. There's a fire in the decks around that space, but it's being contained."
"What can you give me, Sparky?" Matt said, his voice tinged with remorse.
"I've secured the starboard shaft. We'll have to make do with the port. It's all I can give you," Sparky replied. He sounded like he was blaming himself for the Halsey's injuries.
"Very well," Matt sighed, "Do what you can, and keep me informed." He stared back out at the Abyssal and saw something. Rapidly moving up Halsey's starboard side was another ship, it took him a second to realize that it was O'Kane. Matt felt a surge of pride as he saw the destroyer moving up to screen her wounded sister. His heart fell however when he got a good look at her. O'Kane's mast had been sheared off almost at the top of her bridge, and her radar antennas were nothing but a tangled mess. A large chunk had been taken out of her superstructure, and her forward CIWS mount was completely gone. The older destroyer looked even more chewed up than Halsey. Her torpedo tubes were rigged out, so maybe she had gotten off a salvo, but otherwise, she was a mess.
Matt didn't know why the other destroyer was charging like that, but already she had gotten the Abyssal's attention. The fire around Halsey slacked as O'Kane charged forward. She was giving them a chance, they could cut and run right now, all they had to do was turn away and leave O'Kane to the Abyssal. Matt looked around the bridge, trying to decide if that was what his crew wanted. There were some decisions that no captain wanted to ever have to make, and this was one of them. Abandon one ship to possibly save another, or continue the attack and possibly lose both? Matt just didn't know what to do. He looked up to see O'Kane shudder as a salvo from the battleship's secondaries exploded against her sides.
In that instant, Matt made up his mind. He couldn't live with that decision weighing on his conscious. They had run far enough already, if they were going to stand and fight, here was a good a place as any. "Helm bring about behind O'Kane. We still have one set of torpedoes, let's use them." Halsey shuddered as she swung her tortured bow around to point directly at the battleship. They needed to turn far enough to unshadow the port side torpedo tubes, and maybe breaking the formation would cause the Abyssal to split its fire.
"Sir," came the startled voice of one of the lookouts, "Enterprise is breaking out of the rain." Matt cursed. It was now or never, if they didn't stop this monster here, Enterprise would be all but lost.
"Sparky, I need all the speed you can get out of her. I don't care if we blow up the engines, we need to get there," Matt growled over the phone.
With a resigned sigh, Sparky replied, "Aye, sir, but we're definitely going to need a drydock after this one." Halsey groaned and vibrated as Sparky worked to coax every extra knot he could get out of her battered engines. Matt watched as the speed gauge began to slowly crawl up a few knots. It was almost as if the old girl knew exactly what was at stake and had decided to give it her all. She continued her turn until she passed O'Kane's stern going in the other direction. If it worked, this would put Halsey's unfired port torpedo tubes in line to hit the Abyssal, but it would also put her in the line of fire of all of the battleship's secondaries.
Matt raised the phone, and hesitantly asked, "CIC, what's the time on the torps?"
It took a minute for Sullivan to reply, and when it came the XO's voice sounded faint and scratchy, "Ten seconds." Matt nodded, ten seconds until they knew if their charge had been worth it. A loud bang came from forward as a five inch shell slammed into the fo'c'sle and careened off the deck. Taking most of the hatches for the forward VLS cell with it. The ship staggered again as a shell landed aft. The hits were almost constant now, and all Matt could do was pray that his ship would hold together long enough to make a difference.
"Three… two… one," Matt counted, then held his breath. Nothing, they had missed. "Prepare to fire--," he was interrupted as a snap of light, and looked up to see two towering columns of water rise against the battleship's flank. They had hit, the torps had hit. Matt wanted to shout with glee.
"Damn skipper, it worked," the helmsman commented. The entire bridge seemed to hold its breath as they watched to see what the monster would do now. They had definitely hurt the bastard, it was slowing to a crawl, and one of the forward turrets seemed to be jammed in place. The Abyssal began a quick turn, moving to avoid any other torpedoes. It was almost completely bow on to them now, and only a few of its secondaries could target them at this angle.
"Helm, take us alongside her. Let's jam our torps right up her ass," Matt snarled.
"Aye sir," the ship leaned as the helmsman lined her up with the battleship. In a few seconds they would be in position to fire off all of their torpedoes at a range where it would be impossible for the battleship to dodge them, but it would also put Halsey in the full broadside of the Abyssal's secondaries. They were more than capable of wrecking Matt's ship all by themselves. Then, the Abyssal destroyer, completely forgotten until now, shot out from under the battleship, and then sped off in the direction of the Enterprise. It took Matt a split second to realize what it was trying to accomplish.
"Shit, CIC, the tin can's making a run on Big E. Can you stop it," Matt barked over. There was no reply, but a moment later the 5" gun rotated outboard to aim at the destroyer trying to slip away. Against this target, the 5" was more than sufficient. They couldn't afford to break off from the battleship, not now. Not when they were this close. Halsey needed to make every shot from her 5" count. If that destroyer managed to launch its own torpedoes, then the Enterprise would be in serious trouble. The gun raised up and barked again, ka-whumph. It immediately fired again, then again, and again, keeping up a steady stream of fire at the running destroyer.
Shots slammed into its hull, and the Abyssal seemed to vibrate with each of the impacts. Hit after hit slammed into it until it suddenly convulsed with a brilliant fireball. Its hull jackknifed suddenly, its bow leaping out of the water to point skywards. The bridge cheered in delight, Matt included, but there was still the battleship. As if to make its presence known, the battleship flashed as its single operational forward turret fired. Matt watched as a fourteen inch shell slammed into the foredeck. It was on a flat enough trajectory that it skipped off the steel deck, but it slammed into the 5" gun as it went. The gun was ripped from the deck and sent spinning over the side. Matt's heart fell like a stone, now the only weapon his ship had left were the five torpedoes in the port mount. He looked over to judge the range to the battleship, and saw O'Kane pulling along their beam. The other destroyer had her starboard tubes rigged out, and it looked to Matt like they were planning on making a torpedo run of their own. Matt swore he saw a form standing on the other destroyer's bridgewing, giving a salute to his ship. Without thinking about it, Matt stepped out onto his own bridgewing and returned the salute.
Without planning it O'Kane had fallen in on the Abyssal's port side while the Halsey was charging up the starboard. They had caught the battleship in a crossfire, now all that was left was to finish the attack. The Battleship pulsed with rolling fire now as all of its secondaries opened fire. Five inch, four inch, and anti-aircraft machine gun rounds slammed into the Halsey, and they thrummed against her hull like the rain hammering her decks. Matt stepped back into the bridge just in time to see the helmsman be cut down by a stray round. He immediately grabbed the wheel. "Lieutenant, you up?" he shouted.
Lieutenant Wright staggeringly rose to her feet and nodded, "Yes, I'm good sir."
"Get on the 21MC. When I tell you to, give the order to fire the torpedoes," Matt said.
"Aye sir," Wright replied. Her voice still sounded shaky, and she wobbled a bit when she got to her feet, but it couldn't be helped at this point. She managed to make it over to his chair and receive the 21MC phone when a close hit rocked the bridge. Matt opened his eyes to see that he was lying on the deck. He tried to stand, but he felt like someone had whacked him repeatedly in the side with a baseball bat. Upon closer examination, he saw that his uniform was been shredded along his right side, and blood leaked from several dozen wounds. He slowly pulled himself back to his feet, but almost screamed as a lance of pain shot through his body. Eventually he managed to hold himself upright by leaning against the ship's wheel.
"Come on old girl," Matt muttered in a pleading voice, "Hold together, just now. Do this and I promise you'll get a nice long rest in the Pearl." They were very close now, so close that the Abyssal was having trouble rotating its secondaries fast enough to track the charging destroyer. They were almost there, a hundred more feet and they would be in position. Matt willed his broken, battered ship the last few feet. They had to do this. Then with a voice that was firm with command, Matt ordered, "Now, lieutenant."
Wright raised the phone and said, "Fire the torpedoes now." Matt gave it ten more seconds, then cranked the helm hard over, breaking away from the Abyssal. At this range it only took the fish thirty seconds to travel the distance between the destroyers and the battleship. Matt heard a massive roar and turned to see the beast bracketed by several explosions. The Abyssal seemed to be lifted out of the water by the force of the blasts. When the wall of water fell, Matt could see that the battleship wasn't moving anymore, and it was starting to list. The Abyssal was crippled, there was no doubt about it now.
Halsey continued to open the distance, running as fast as she could, but the Abyssal's guns barked again in defiance and rage. Most of the shots fell short, churning the water in the destroyer's wake, but a single round punched through the flight deck tearing down through several decks and out the bottom of the ship. Through machinery and wrecking the steering gear and the propeller shafts. With one shot, the Abyssal had disabled the Halsey's ability to maneuver and move. Matt suddenly found that his ship would no longer respond to his commands, she was trapped on her heading, and rapidly losing speed. He cursed loudly, "Fuck, what now?"
Wright was already on the 21MC, she replied a second later, "Sparky says that shot took out the steering gear, and the prop alleys. We can't get it back, not without a drydock." It was with grim realization that Matt came to the conclusion that he was dead. With no way to move or maneuver, it was only a matter of time before the battleship nailed them with a full salvo. Matt looked up at the Abyssal with grim determination. It was listing and low at the bow, but its turrets were still turning, still pointing at his ship. He expected the final salvo to land at any moment, and gave the monster a resigned look. That was when it exploded.
A bright flash and a thunderous explosion framed the Abyssal, and several columns of water rose along its flanks. Those were torpedo hits, they had to be. "Where did those torps come from?" Matt wondered aloud. Both destroyers had already launched all of their fish, and there hadn't been time to reload the mounts.
"Maybe Enterprise?" Wright asked. It was clear that she was just as surprised as Matt had been.
"Possibly," Matt muttered. Then looked back out at the monster that had harried them for the last ten minutes. The battleship had ceased all movement, and its guns had fallen silent. It was rapidly beginning to slip lower into the water, and as he watched, it exploded with a massive fireball. The detonation tore Abyssal in half, and it vanished within seconds.
It was clear now that the battle was over. The rain pounding the decks had begun to slacken, and the storm was already breaking up. Without the Abyssals there to sustain it, the squall was rapidly dissipating. Matt tried to walk over to his seat, but froze when pain shot through his body. He was reminded of the hit he took earlier and looked down to see the side of his uniform stained with blood. Damn, he would have to get that looked at. Limping now, he moved over to the front of the bridge, and took the 21MC phone from Wright. The young lieutenant seemed absolutely shell-shocked. She was simply staring ahead with a slack expression. Matt put a comforting hand on her shoulder as he asked over the phone, "Exec, Sparky, is everyone alright?" There was no response. He looked down at the handset in confusion. It was a sound-powered phone, it should work all the time. His question was answered a second later when a tired and dejected looking Sparky walked onto the bridge.
With a loud sigh, he announced, "The electrics were cut a deck below you. I'm surprised you could still give helm commands." Matt looked up at the engineer. His face was streaked black with soot and grease, and his hair was an absolute mess.
"How does she look, commander?"
With a resigned sigh, Sparky replied, "She's gone skipper. The flooding aft is too much, we can't handle it, not with only two engines. I give us maybe half an hour." Matt felt like a part of him died with that statement.
"Isn't there something you can do?" he pleaded. He couldn't lose his ship, they had won. Why would she give up now?
Sparky shook his head and looked down at the deck, "Sir, I can't do anything. Believe me I could if I wanted to, but… but the damage is too bad. I recommend…" Sparky had to take a gulp of air to clear his throat, "I recommend that we abandon ship as soon as possible. She's settling pretty evenly right now, but I have no idea how long that will last." Matt nodded solemnly, then looked around the bridge. The space was a mess. Equipment was strewn everywhere, and water sloshed across the deck lapping at Matt's feet. At least two of the crewmen had been cut down during the battle, and their blood soaked the deck.
"Damn, I leave for five minutes," Matt looked up to see Boggs stick his head through the hatch, "Sparky give you the word, skipper?"
"Yeah," Matt sighed, "Go ahead Boats, pass the word for abandon ship."
"Aye aye, sir," Boggs replied, his voice sounding much deeper than it normally did. He began to duck back out of the bridge, then changed his mind and stopped. "You did a good job skipper. She was a good boat," Boggs said.
"She still is a good boat, at least for a while longer," Matt replied, "Go, help people off. I'll deal with everyone topside."
"Aye sir," Boggs said, then disappeared down the companionway.
"Come on, Sparky. Let's get everyone out," Matt ordered, then reached over to grab the still shell-chocked Wright. He slowly began to work his way off his dying ship.
[][][]
It amazed Captain Dover just how quickly things could change. The ship that had been his home for almost a year now, was slowly dying. The crew was up on deck now, milling around the fo'c'sle while corpsman moved through administering first aid, and the surviving officers tried to get a head count. There were a lot of faces missing from this group, and Matt couldn't help but feel that he had let his men down. He had promised to protect them, and now some of them were gone. He was currently standing in the superstructure. Partly for the better vantage point, and because he was trying not to let the crew see how much pain he was in. The shrapnel wounds he had taken earlier hurt like a bitch now, and Matt was having trouble even standing.
"Skipper, you alright?" Matt looked over to see Chief Boggs pushing his way through the mob of crewmen.
"I'll manage," Matt replied, "How're things looking, Chief?"
"XO is putting the RHIBs in the water, and we've already dropped all the rafts that weren't torn up," Boggs reported, "There should be more than enough room for everyone."
"Finally, some good news," Matt said dryly, "I definitely need some of that." Matt could tell that the Halsey didn't have much left in her. The once proud ship had started to list to port, and the angle of the deck was getting worse with every passing second. It wouldn't be long before she turned turtle and capsized. The hull was creaking and groaning now, almost as if the old girl was screaming in protest. She had done well to hold on this long, and Matt hoped she would hold on just long enough to get the rest of his crew off. "Keep them moving Boats," Matt said, reaching up to put a hand on the other man's shoulder.
"Sir, you can leave now," Boggs tried to suggest.
"No, Boats, not until I know everyone's off," Matt replied. He knew that it was his duty as the captain, and maybe doing that would help to assuage the guilt he felt over losing so many.
Giving a shaky salute, Boggs replied, "Aye aye, sir." The big senior chief dashed off, moving to help hand out life jackets. They were climbing over the side now. Someone had begun to throw the big, inflatable life rafts into the water, and they were quickly being filled. The fo'c'sle began to slowly empty as survivors went over the side. After a while, Matt and Chief Boggs were the only ones left on the ship. "Need a hand, skipper?" Boggs asked, then wrapped an arm around Matt's shoulders.
"Thanks, Boats," Matt replied, and together, the two walked to the rail. The burbling roar of an outboard engine drew Matt's gaze over the side. Carefully making his way through the clusters of sailors, was the XO in one of the ship's boats.
"Someone need a ride," Sullivan shouted, then brought the boat to a stop under the rail. Matt judged the distance from the rail to the boat. With the list Halsey had taken on, it was only about ten feet. Even then he didn't relish the thought of making that jump. It was with much pain that he finally made it. 11
"You good, skipper?" Boggs asked as he fell into the boat.
"I'll live," Matt replied. Getting down had taken a lot out of him, and the captain couldn't do much more then lie in the bottom of the boat. Several shouts made him look over. What he saw was impossible, it had to be. Moving through the rafts and floating sailors, were two girls. What was impossible about them, was the fact that they were standing on top of the water. They looked like teenagers. They moved through the group of sailors towards the boat.
"Are you the skipper?" she sounded confused, like she couldn't figure out what was happening.
With all the strength he could muster, Matt said, "I am, Commander Matthew Dover."
"I'm sorry, captain," she said, then cast her eyes down at the water, "If we had been a minute faster, we could have stopped that monster."
"What are you talking about, little lady?" Boggs asked, speaking for the first time.
"If we had put our torpedoes in the water a few minutes sooner, we could have saved your ship," she replied, voice sullen.
"What?" Matt said, now he really was confused, "Just who--what are you?"
She looked him in the face. Her warm, brown eyes meeting his steel, blue ones. "USS Nicholas, DD-449. If you want a Fletcher, there are none better than me," she pointed over her shoulder to the second girl, "She's Charles Ausburn."
"Call me Charlie, herr Kapitän," she said, "DD-570, flag of DesRon 23."
Nicholas spoke up again, "I don't really know what I am right now, but when I woke up, I saw that… thing attacking your ship. We launched torps at it, but it was too late to stop its last salvo."
Sudden realization dawned on Matt, "That last shot, the one we thought came from Big E that was you?"
"We sank it, if that's what you mean."
"Just what are you?" Matt asked in slack-jawed wonder.
"All I know sir, is that I used to be a destroyer," Nicholas replied, "And now I'm not."
Sullivan coughed, making Matt look up at his XO, "As touching as this is, we probably ought to get the men out of the water. O'Kane is ready to take them, we just have to drag the rafts over there."
"Very well, exec. Get going," Matt said, then looked at the girls, "If you want a lift, we have the room."
"Okay," Nicholas replied, then scrambled over the boat's gunwale. It took her a few times, and if it hadn't been for a helping hand from Chief Boggs, she would have tumbled back into the water. Nicholas landed in the bottom of the boat, and lay there for several seconds. A moment later, she was wrapped in a bright light, and the equipment she had strapped to herself disappeared, leaving a small, damp girl lying in the boat. Charlie followed a minute later, with a bit more success. A moment later, Sullivan gunned the outboard, and the boat took off.
A few minutes later Matt looked back to see Halsey finish capsizing. Her bright, red bottom and shiny, bronze screws were exposed for all to see. A moment after that, the ship that Matt had called home, his ship, slipped beneath the waves. Boggs stood up and took off his hat with a flourish. With a voice uncharacteristically filled with emotion, he said, "Take off your hats boys. There goes a good ship."
Nicholas stood next to the Chief, and said, "May she find peace wherever she ends up." Matt wiped his cheek as hot tears began to well up. He may have failed his ship, but he damn sure wasn't going to fail her crew.
In a husky voice, Matt ordered, "Take us home, exec. Take us home." He looked over at the two, strange girls sitting in the boat, and asked, "So, what's your story?"
"That may take time to explain, herr Kapitän," Charlie replied.
"That's alright, we have plenty of time, and I'm certainly not going anywhere," Matt replied. Nicholas and Charlie looked at each other for a long moment, then began to tell their life stories. While he was listening, Matt suddenly had a strange feeling that losing his ship was a beginning, rather than an end.
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Nicholas and Charles Ausburne
Breakaway25
All hail the Mighty Tomcat
- Location
- Stuck on the Quarterdeck
Well after reading through the English translation of Pacific, I thought I'd try something similar. So here's what I came up with.
Nicholas: 5'5" short black hair, wears an enlisted white blouse with a gray, and white splotched skirt.
Transcript begin: Good afternoon commander. You wanted to see me? How am I adapting? If I may, what do you mean by that, sir? All that should be in my record jacket. I guess I can try to tell my side. This was a helluva change, sir, but I think I adapted better than most. Why? Well, sir, I had almost thirty years of service before I showed up here. I fought in three different wars, and racked up a list of battle honors longer than my arm. I was all over the place back then, and I learned an awful lot. Me and O'Bannon certainly got around back then
O'Bannon? She was my sister, my twin, in fact. We were laid down next to each other at the Bath works all those years ago, and slid down the ways on the same day. We were together practically non-stop from that day until we were decommed. Do I miss her? Terribly, sir. I hope she comes back soon.
About me? What can I say? I consider myself to be a ship of firsts. First Fletcher to slip down the ways. Flagship for the first squadron of Fletcher class destroyers, and one of the first ships to be sent into combat. I was the first ship to sail into Tokyo Bay after the war ended. Was one of the first to be recommissioned after the war, even if it was as a DDE. Then I was the first Fletcher to be selected for FRAM modifications. Now, I'm one of the first ever ship girls, and I intend to get even more firsts in this new life. So, if that is all, commander, I have some training to do. Times have certainly changed since my time, and I need to catch up.
CO's comments: Determined, faithful, leader. Nicholas is the undoubted leader of the girls. She has the type of personality that people like to follow on principle. She is wildly devoted to her girls, who she claims to be any person placed under her command, but holds a special place for the first five, and her sister O'Bannon who has yet to return.
Charles Ausburne: 5'5" blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Wears a Bundesmarine white blouse(roughly similar to an American white blouse, but with a blue tar flap, and blue cuffs) and a black, gray, and white blotched skirt
Transcript begin: Guten Morgen herr Kapitän. Was I speaking German? I guess it's just something I picked up after the war. I was sold to the to the Germans after I was decommissioned. I served with them for a few years and I guess I picked up a few habits from them. How are things going? Okay, I guess. I sometimes just feel a bit overwhelmed with all that's happened, but I'm managing. I do wish Kapitän Burke was here to help though. He would know what to do, old "31-Knot" always knew what to do.
Oh, I was Kapitän Burke's flagship when he had DesRon 23. I thought you knew that? I was in the thick of the fighting for so long under his command. All through the Guadalcanal campaign, and on. I even helped to end the Tokyo Express at Cape St. George. After we pulled off that attack, the Japanese never sent another ship down the slot. All of it was because of Kapitän Arleigh Burke.
How am I doing, personally, sir? Now there's a loaded question. I get along with the other girls if that's what you mean. Sometimes we get into arguments, but I never mean anything by it. Letting my head get ahead of me is my only problem, but sometimes you just need to charge right in and sort things out afterwards. I'm ready to fight again. Even if it isn't as a squadron flag, I'll do my part.
CO's comments: Hard charging, instinctive, leader. Charlie Ausburne is a known for her hard charging attitude. She will push any attack, and hates to be on the retreat. This translates to a take no prisoners, not one step back mentality that can sometimes put her at odds with her fellow girls. While these occasions do happen, Charlie does not hate any of the other girls.
I'll try doing some more of these as I introduce more characters.
Nicholas: 5'5" short black hair, wears an enlisted white blouse with a gray, and white splotched skirt.
Transcript begin: Good afternoon commander. You wanted to see me? How am I adapting? If I may, what do you mean by that, sir? All that should be in my record jacket. I guess I can try to tell my side. This was a helluva change, sir, but I think I adapted better than most. Why? Well, sir, I had almost thirty years of service before I showed up here. I fought in three different wars, and racked up a list of battle honors longer than my arm. I was all over the place back then, and I learned an awful lot. Me and O'Bannon certainly got around back then
O'Bannon? She was my sister, my twin, in fact. We were laid down next to each other at the Bath works all those years ago, and slid down the ways on the same day. We were together practically non-stop from that day until we were decommed. Do I miss her? Terribly, sir. I hope she comes back soon.
About me? What can I say? I consider myself to be a ship of firsts. First Fletcher to slip down the ways. Flagship for the first squadron of Fletcher class destroyers, and one of the first ships to be sent into combat. I was the first ship to sail into Tokyo Bay after the war ended. Was one of the first to be recommissioned after the war, even if it was as a DDE. Then I was the first Fletcher to be selected for FRAM modifications. Now, I'm one of the first ever ship girls, and I intend to get even more firsts in this new life. So, if that is all, commander, I have some training to do. Times have certainly changed since my time, and I need to catch up.
CO's comments: Determined, faithful, leader. Nicholas is the undoubted leader of the girls. She has the type of personality that people like to follow on principle. She is wildly devoted to her girls, who she claims to be any person placed under her command, but holds a special place for the first five, and her sister O'Bannon who has yet to return.
Charles Ausburne: 5'5" blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Wears a Bundesmarine white blouse(roughly similar to an American white blouse, but with a blue tar flap, and blue cuffs) and a black, gray, and white blotched skirt
Transcript begin: Guten Morgen herr Kapitän. Was I speaking German? I guess it's just something I picked up after the war. I was sold to the to the Germans after I was decommissioned. I served with them for a few years and I guess I picked up a few habits from them. How are things going? Okay, I guess. I sometimes just feel a bit overwhelmed with all that's happened, but I'm managing. I do wish Kapitän Burke was here to help though. He would know what to do, old "31-Knot" always knew what to do.
Oh, I was Kapitän Burke's flagship when he had DesRon 23. I thought you knew that? I was in the thick of the fighting for so long under his command. All through the Guadalcanal campaign, and on. I even helped to end the Tokyo Express at Cape St. George. After we pulled off that attack, the Japanese never sent another ship down the slot. All of it was because of Kapitän Arleigh Burke.
How am I doing, personally, sir? Now there's a loaded question. I get along with the other girls if that's what you mean. Sometimes we get into arguments, but I never mean anything by it. Letting my head get ahead of me is my only problem, but sometimes you just need to charge right in and sort things out afterwards. I'm ready to fight again. Even if it isn't as a squadron flag, I'll do my part.
CO's comments: Hard charging, instinctive, leader. Charlie Ausburne is a known for her hard charging attitude. She will push any attack, and hates to be on the retreat. This translates to a take no prisoners, not one step back mentality that can sometimes put her at odds with her fellow girls. While these occasions do happen, Charlie does not hate any of the other girls.
I'll try doing some more of these as I introduce more characters.
Exterminatus
Tsukumogami User
- Location
- Southern California
I wonder if Charles still retains her coat of arms from her time as Z6 in addition to her unit patch.
Chapter 2
Breakaway25
All hail the Mighty Tomcat
- Location
- Stuck on the Quarterdeck
Pearl Harbor Naval Base, June 22, 2032
Pearl Harbor looked much different now from the last time Matt had seen it. The one bustling hub of the Pacific 3rd Fleet, now looked almost abandoned. Only a handful of ships remained at the docks, and all of them were damaged to some extent. All told, the scene was a pretty telling indication on the state of the war, and Matt didn't like what he saw. This was the first time that he had sailed into the harbor without Halsey under his feet, and he just couldn't shake the feeling of loss that followed him everywhere. The Navy had been moving quickly since the loss of his ship, and Matt had already been given a new command, even if it was a shore assignment. It was called the Office of Management Analysis, even though it had little to do with analysis or management. His only orders had been to read over reports of combat with the Abyssals, and come up with ideas on how to fight them.
Matt stepped into his new office and in one movement, pitched his keys onto the desk. He couldn't help but feel that the office was a pale substitute for Halsey. Where there had once been several thousand tons of powerful US steel under his feet, now all he had was a desk, a computer, and a crappy swivel chair. He still couldn't figure out what he was supposed to be doing with this command, he knew a lot about the Abyssals, sire, but all his knowledge had come from having to face them. All he could think of was that the Navy wanted to keep him close by, and needed someone to keep an eye on the two destroyer girls.
It had become clear to Matt that the higher ups had no clue what to do with the two girls. Their appearance had been completely unexpected, and no one knew what to do with them. They could fight the Abyssals, their performance in the battle showed that, but just what were they? Were they actually ships, and what the hell was the Navy going to do with them? Until someone figured that out, Matt would continue to look after them. They were officially attached to this unit, even if they weren't officially a part of the US Navy, yet. But Matt had heard rumblings about how that problem was going to be approached.
Right now all Matt had to do was flip through a stack of reports that had appeared on his desk, that or flip playing cards into his upturned cover. He was doing the latter when he heard a knock at his door. He quickly slid the cover full of cards under the desk, then said, "Come in." Commander Sullivan stepped through the door a second later, and looked around.
"Having some fun there?" he asked, looking at the pile of cards Matt had left on the floor.
"Possibly," Matt replied, cryptically, then asked "What is it, exec?" Sullivan had been transferred into the Office of Management Analysis with Matt, and continued to serve as his XO here. That meant Sullivan kept track of all the things that Matt couldn't.
"Just wanted to let you know that we're famous," Matt raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what he meant by that. Then Sullivan tossed a sheet of paper onto Matt's desk. He leaned over to pick it up, and saw that it was a printout of the latest edition of the New York Times.
"Jesus Christ," Matt muttered. There laid out in full glory on the front page, was a picture of Halsey heeling over to charge.
The headline above the picture simply read, "US Navy suffers massive defeat off Midway Island." The small blurb under the picture read, "Destroyer USS Halsey begins a suicidal charge to defend the carrier USS Enterprise from attack."
"Christ," Matt repeated, "Do they really think it's that bad?" Then another thought occurred to him, "Who's read this?"
"Well the admiral certainly has. One of his adjutants brought this by a few minutes ago," Sullivan tossed a manila envelope across the desk. Matt was so surprised he almost didn't catch it.
"You might have lead off with that," Matt groused, then tore the top of the envelope. He found a few sheets of message paper inside, and a single photograph. His eyes went wide as he picked up the photo. "I need to go see the admiral, Matt said, quickly standing up. He grabbed his cover off the floor and shook out the cards still stuck in it.
"That bad?" Sullivan asked, his tone changing to one of worry.
"Not bad, per se," Matt replied, "Just that I think our crew compliment has just grown by one." Seeing Sullivan's confused expression, Matt handed him the photo as he stepped out of the office. Sullivan looked down to see that it was a picture of a young girl. One he didn't recognize, and who was wearing a very similar outfit to the destroyer girls.
[][][]
Nicholas was having a good day. The commander had finally given her some free time and she had decided to spend it by wandering around the base. She had been in this base countless times before, but she had never seen the shore side. It was intriguing to see how much went on behind the docks. Done with her wanderings for now, she had found an empty pier and sat down on an empty bollard, just to take everything in. All these new sensations were amazing, the warmth of the sun on her skin, the smell of salt air on the breeze, and the sounds of the dockyards around her. No matter what she said, Nicholas like this new life. She had discovered that she enjoyed just sitting back and taking it all in. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and then let out a contented sigh.
"There you are, I've been looking all over for you," the sound of Charlie's voice caused Nicholas to sit up in surprise.
"Why?" she asked, confused, "Am I in trouble?"
"No," Charlie replied with a shake of the head. She walked over to Nicholas, and sat down on the bollard beside her, then fished something out of her pocket, "But you would have been if the Stabsbootsmann had caught you without this." Charlie handed Nicholas the mobile phone she had been issued. Nicholas' face flushed when she realized that she must have forgotten it when she went out.
"I guess the Senior Chief would be rather livid," Nicholas said with a half-hearted chuckle, then pocketed the phone. Thankfully, she hadn't been on the receiving end of the Chief's ire, yet. But Charlie had, and it wasn't pretty.
"I'd be what?" the voice of Senior Chief Boggs startled her so much, that Nicholas almost fell into the water.
"Why nothing Stabsbootsmann," Charlie replied, giving the man a perfectly innocent smile.
"The hell is a Stabs-whatever you said?" Boggs asked, then walked over to stand behind the girls.
"She means Senior Chief," Nicholas supplied, regaining some of her composure, "Did you want us for anything?"
"Nope," Boggs said, drawing out the word for maximum effect, "Skipper told me to find you, but that was more of a 'Make sure the SPs don't have them' sort of order not a 'Drag their sorry asses back here before they fuck something up' order," his face actually flushed when he realized what he had said, and added, sheepishly, "Pardon my French."
"I've definitely heard worse from my crew," Charlie said, raising a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh.
"So what are you two doing out here?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Just watching," Nicholas replied, "I can't tell you how many times I sailed through that channel," she pointed over to the entrance to the harbor, "But I've never actually seen Pearl from this side."
"I bet," Boggs replied, trailing off.
"Perspective is everything I guess. There is just something different about the inside of the base…" Nicholas trailed, off then looked out over the bay. A sudden feeling of dread gripped her body, like there was something out there setting her on edge. She couldn't pinpoint it, but she knew there was trouble coming.
"What? Something happen?" Boggs asked, confused by the sudden silence.
"Just," Nicholas began, "I just had a bad feeling."
"I had it too," Charlie added, then started at the water.
"Oh shit I left the oven on bad, or general quarters no stops bad?" Boggs asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
"Something's coming," Nicholas replied absently. She scanned the water of the channel. She had no idea what was sending her danger signals, but she did know it was coming from the harbor.
"There," Charlie said, pointing, "Does that look like a periscope feather to you?" Nicholas followed her sister's gesture and, sure enough, there was a thin black mast sticking out of the water, trailing a white feather of water. If it was caused by a submarine, then it was trying to sneak up the channel into the base proper.
"These Abyssals, do they have submarines?" Nicholas asked.
It took Chief Boggs a moment to reply, "Yeah, pretty nasty ones too. One jumped the Chosin couple months ago." Nicholas shared a look of concern with Charlie, then thought hard about bringing forth her ship side. She had only done this a few times since the end of the battle, and it took a few seconds before she could feel the oddly familiar form of her 5" turret in her hand. A quick look showed that Charlie had similarly equipped herself.
"Come on let's go," Nicholas called, then started to move to the water, but a hand reached out to grab the back of her blouse. She turned to yell at whoever had stopped her, when she saw that it was Chief Boggs. "What?" she said, a little indignantly.
"Look," he said, then pointed. It took her a second to see what he was pointing at. Racing up the channel after the periscope was a girl, but Nicholas didn't see that. She saw a destroyer, old, but proud. Her sides gleaming with white and black paint and her four, slender funnels streaming thick columns of smoke. Nicholas blinked and saw the girl standing in the place of the ship. She was tiny, looking much shorter than Nicholas or Charlie, and had a long braid of brown hair running down her back. She was wearing what looked like green, Marine dungarees with a green splotched skirt.
The girl was racing now, trying to catch the sub before it could get past the torpedo nets in the channel. With a mighty yell, she heaved back and threw something ahead of her. Nicholas only barely caught sight of the spinning, tumbling object before it splashed into the water ahead of the periscope. She thought she knew what it was, and that thought was confirmed a second later when the surface of the water spalled and convulsed upward with the force of the depth charge exploding.
"Jesus," Charlie whispered. A second later the girl pitched another charge into the water, with a similar result.
"Well, if they didn't know about you, then do now," Boggs muttered, "I bet that woke up half the bay." At first there seemed to be no result from the attack, but then a plume of bubbles rose to the surface of the bay. A second after that, the black, chitinous form of an Abyssals rose to the surface. It was long and squat with a distinct conning tower towards the center of the hull. The Abyssal was clearly wounded, it was leaking black oil from a gash along its deck, but it was still making way. With a renewed roar, the girl brought a gun up to her eye and fired it at the thing with a loud ka-whump.
Nicholas didn't even realize that she was muttering, "Come on. Come on now," as she watched. The first shell struck the sub amidships and caused it to convulse with an internal explosion. It staggered from the force, then appeared to shake off the blow and keep moving. Unshaken, the girl fired a second time, but the shot flew high, missing the sub. She was about to fire again, when another gun spoke.
Nicholas snapped her head around to see another destroyer moving up the channel. She was bigger than the first one, with a tall, blocky superstructure. Nicholas rubbed her eyes and the destroyer was replaced by another girl. This one was a bit taller, and wore a blue, dress blouse with a black and white blotched skirt. Her long, red hair streamed behind her, fluttering in the wind.
The shot from her gun slammed into the sub, and with a final explosion, the sub split in half and began to disappear under the water. Once it was all over, Nicholas could see the two girls, standing on the water, obviously shocked by what had just happened. The rest of them just stood on the pier, stunned by what they had just witnessed. Boggs was the first one to recover.
He pointed out at the water, and said, "Well, go get them. Before some idiot in a pleasure cruiser beats you to it."
"Right-right," Nicholas stammered, then leaped off the pier into the bay. She heard Charlie splash into the water behind her. She carefully made her way over to where the two new arrivals were standing. "Ahoy there," she shouted once she had closed the distance.
She had to repeat herself several times before one of them replied, "Hello."
"I'm USS Nicholas," Nicholas said pointing at herself, then jerked a thumb at Charlie, "And that's Charles Ausburne, and you are?"
The one wearing dungarees replied first, "Ward, USS Ward DD-139. Where am I?"
Sensing that it was her turn, the second girl spoke, "Mahan DD-364, I believe that this is Pearl Harbor though I do not recognize any of the ships, or the buildings. Perhaps we are in a different time period?"
"Partly," Charlie deadpanned.
"I think that we can answer everything, but right now let's get you out of the water," Nicholas said, then began to sail back towards the pier. She cast a look over her shoulder to ensure that she was being followed. The two newcomers looked confused for a second, then began to follow.
Once Nicholas was close to the pier, Chief Boggs shouted, "So who are they?"
"USS Ward and USS Mahan," Nicholas replied, "A Clemson and a Mahan."
"Damn, skipper's gonna flip when he hears this," Boggs muttered.
"Who? Who's this?" Ward asked.
"Stabsbootsmann Boggs," Charlie replied, "Our NCO minder."
"Ain't no such thing," Boggs snapped, "Senior Chief Rowin Boggs for the non-krauts. I'm the unit CMC, and I figure you two will be joining that unit shortly."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Mahan said. She hopped up onto the pier and sent her equipment back to wherever it came from. The rest of the girls followed until they were all standing there, wringing sea spray from their hair and shirts.
"I need to tell the skipper bout this one," Boggs repeated softly. His phone began to trill causing his to curse, then he looked at the screen and said, "Speak of the devil." Putting the device to his ear, he said, "You're not gonna believe this one, skipper. Just some Abyssal mini-sub trying to sneak into the bay. We got two more of them by the way."
[][][]
Matt Dover never did like talking to admirals, at least he liked this one. One Vice Admiral Steven Davies, the former commander of Enterprise's battlegroup, and the current commander of 3rd Fleet surface elements, Matt's boss. Matt knocked on the man's door, and waited. A second later, he heard a, "Come in."
"Good morning, sir. You wanted to see me," he said, stepping in to stand in front of the Admiral's desk, his eyes hovering at a point six inches above the man's head.
"At ease commander," Davies said. Matt relaxed and lowered his gaze to look at the Admiral. Davies was a small man, but you could never tell that by just looking at him. He exuded a command presence that made him look much larger than he actually was. Matt took a seat in front of his desk, and looked around. It was at that point that he noticed the girl sitting in the corner trying her hardest to disappear into the chair she was sitting in. He had a good idea who she was, but decided not to ask for the time being. "You've caused me a lot of trouble, commander," Davies said, suddenly.
Matt raised an eyebrow, then asked, "How so?"
"I've been on and off the phone with CINCPAC for the last two days, trying to come up with what we're going to do with those girls of yours."
"I don't understand..."
Davies held up a hand, then continued, "We finally had to buck the problem all the way up to the Joint Chiefs. Apparently they see potential in this. Human ships who can fight the monsters directly. They were very enthusiastic."
"So, what now, sir?" Matt asked, anticipating the response.
"Right now? We fold the current girls and any future ones into your command. You will be the nominal commander, and we'll come up with a more permanent solution just as soon as the JCS give me an answer. Until then, continue to serve as their CO, and help them integrate with the current situation."
"Aye aye sir," Matt replied, then glanced over at the girls siting in the corner.
Davies followed Matt's gaze, and said, "Come on over here, sweetie." She very carefully stood up, then walked over to stand in front of Matt. "This is Johnston," Davies explained, "Coast Guard cutter found her a few hours ago, standing on the water."
"So she's…"
"Under your command now? Yes." Matt looked over the girl for a few seconds, taking in her features. She looked similar to Nicholas and Charlie but had short, brown hair and piercing, blue eyes. She had the same white, dress blouse as the other Fletcher girls, but her skirt was a solid blue.
"I'm Commander Matthew Dover, it's a pleasure to meet you miss," he said, standing and offering her a hand.
She tentatively took the proffered hand and said in a quiet voice, "Johnston, commander. It's nice to meet you, but what's going to happen to me now?"
"Right now we're going to go back to my office and get some transient forms filled out for you," Matt replied in a comforting tone, "Then we'll see about finding you a place to sleep." He turned to look at Davies, "By your leave—" he started to ask, but was cut off by the sound of an explosion from out on the bay.
"What the hell was that?" Davies barked, "Did someone cook off a 5" round, again?"
"No," Johnston's sudden statement caused the two officers in the room to look at her in surprise, "That sounded like a depth charge." A second explosion, just like the first reverberated through the room. "Definitely a depth charge."
"Admiral, if I may, my people are probably in the middle of whatever this is," Matt asked. Davies replied with an affirmative wave of his hand, and Matt reached in his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. Dialing the number from memory, he said, "Boats, tell me that wasn't you. What? Alright I understand, carry on."
"What?" Davies asked, as Matt lowered the phone.
"Sir, a mini-sub just tried to sneak into the bay. It was stopped by two girls," Matt said, then added, "Two new girls."
"I swear Commander, you are just trying to generate more paperwork for me," Davies said with mock indignation, "I've got nothing more for you, go deal with this."
"Aye sir," Matt said, then turned to leave, "Come on, Johnston, this is going to be a long day for you." Matt began to walk out of the room, and the destroyer followed close at his heels. This definitely was going to be a long day for him.
Pearl Harbor looked much different now from the last time Matt had seen it. The one bustling hub of the Pacific 3rd Fleet, now looked almost abandoned. Only a handful of ships remained at the docks, and all of them were damaged to some extent. All told, the scene was a pretty telling indication on the state of the war, and Matt didn't like what he saw. This was the first time that he had sailed into the harbor without Halsey under his feet, and he just couldn't shake the feeling of loss that followed him everywhere. The Navy had been moving quickly since the loss of his ship, and Matt had already been given a new command, even if it was a shore assignment. It was called the Office of Management Analysis, even though it had little to do with analysis or management. His only orders had been to read over reports of combat with the Abyssals, and come up with ideas on how to fight them.
Matt stepped into his new office and in one movement, pitched his keys onto the desk. He couldn't help but feel that the office was a pale substitute for Halsey. Where there had once been several thousand tons of powerful US steel under his feet, now all he had was a desk, a computer, and a crappy swivel chair. He still couldn't figure out what he was supposed to be doing with this command, he knew a lot about the Abyssals, sire, but all his knowledge had come from having to face them. All he could think of was that the Navy wanted to keep him close by, and needed someone to keep an eye on the two destroyer girls.
It had become clear to Matt that the higher ups had no clue what to do with the two girls. Their appearance had been completely unexpected, and no one knew what to do with them. They could fight the Abyssals, their performance in the battle showed that, but just what were they? Were they actually ships, and what the hell was the Navy going to do with them? Until someone figured that out, Matt would continue to look after them. They were officially attached to this unit, even if they weren't officially a part of the US Navy, yet. But Matt had heard rumblings about how that problem was going to be approached.
Right now all Matt had to do was flip through a stack of reports that had appeared on his desk, that or flip playing cards into his upturned cover. He was doing the latter when he heard a knock at his door. He quickly slid the cover full of cards under the desk, then said, "Come in." Commander Sullivan stepped through the door a second later, and looked around.
"Having some fun there?" he asked, looking at the pile of cards Matt had left on the floor.
"Possibly," Matt replied, cryptically, then asked "What is it, exec?" Sullivan had been transferred into the Office of Management Analysis with Matt, and continued to serve as his XO here. That meant Sullivan kept track of all the things that Matt couldn't.
"Just wanted to let you know that we're famous," Matt raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what he meant by that. Then Sullivan tossed a sheet of paper onto Matt's desk. He leaned over to pick it up, and saw that it was a printout of the latest edition of the New York Times.
"Jesus Christ," Matt muttered. There laid out in full glory on the front page, was a picture of Halsey heeling over to charge.
The headline above the picture simply read, "US Navy suffers massive defeat off Midway Island." The small blurb under the picture read, "Destroyer USS Halsey begins a suicidal charge to defend the carrier USS Enterprise from attack."
"Christ," Matt repeated, "Do they really think it's that bad?" Then another thought occurred to him, "Who's read this?"
"Well the admiral certainly has. One of his adjutants brought this by a few minutes ago," Sullivan tossed a manila envelope across the desk. Matt was so surprised he almost didn't catch it.
"You might have lead off with that," Matt groused, then tore the top of the envelope. He found a few sheets of message paper inside, and a single photograph. His eyes went wide as he picked up the photo. "I need to go see the admiral, Matt said, quickly standing up. He grabbed his cover off the floor and shook out the cards still stuck in it.
"That bad?" Sullivan asked, his tone changing to one of worry.
"Not bad, per se," Matt replied, "Just that I think our crew compliment has just grown by one." Seeing Sullivan's confused expression, Matt handed him the photo as he stepped out of the office. Sullivan looked down to see that it was a picture of a young girl. One he didn't recognize, and who was wearing a very similar outfit to the destroyer girls.
[][][]
Nicholas was having a good day. The commander had finally given her some free time and she had decided to spend it by wandering around the base. She had been in this base countless times before, but she had never seen the shore side. It was intriguing to see how much went on behind the docks. Done with her wanderings for now, she had found an empty pier and sat down on an empty bollard, just to take everything in. All these new sensations were amazing, the warmth of the sun on her skin, the smell of salt air on the breeze, and the sounds of the dockyards around her. No matter what she said, Nicholas like this new life. She had discovered that she enjoyed just sitting back and taking it all in. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and then let out a contented sigh.
"There you are, I've been looking all over for you," the sound of Charlie's voice caused Nicholas to sit up in surprise.
"Why?" she asked, confused, "Am I in trouble?"
"No," Charlie replied with a shake of the head. She walked over to Nicholas, and sat down on the bollard beside her, then fished something out of her pocket, "But you would have been if the Stabsbootsmann had caught you without this." Charlie handed Nicholas the mobile phone she had been issued. Nicholas' face flushed when she realized that she must have forgotten it when she went out.
"I guess the Senior Chief would be rather livid," Nicholas said with a half-hearted chuckle, then pocketed the phone. Thankfully, she hadn't been on the receiving end of the Chief's ire, yet. But Charlie had, and it wasn't pretty.
"I'd be what?" the voice of Senior Chief Boggs startled her so much, that Nicholas almost fell into the water.
"Why nothing Stabsbootsmann," Charlie replied, giving the man a perfectly innocent smile.
"The hell is a Stabs-whatever you said?" Boggs asked, then walked over to stand behind the girls.
"She means Senior Chief," Nicholas supplied, regaining some of her composure, "Did you want us for anything?"
"Nope," Boggs said, drawing out the word for maximum effect, "Skipper told me to find you, but that was more of a 'Make sure the SPs don't have them' sort of order not a 'Drag their sorry asses back here before they fuck something up' order," his face actually flushed when he realized what he had said, and added, sheepishly, "Pardon my French."
"I've definitely heard worse from my crew," Charlie said, raising a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh.
"So what are you two doing out here?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Just watching," Nicholas replied, "I can't tell you how many times I sailed through that channel," she pointed over to the entrance to the harbor, "But I've never actually seen Pearl from this side."
"I bet," Boggs replied, trailing off.
"Perspective is everything I guess. There is just something different about the inside of the base…" Nicholas trailed, off then looked out over the bay. A sudden feeling of dread gripped her body, like there was something out there setting her on edge. She couldn't pinpoint it, but she knew there was trouble coming.
"What? Something happen?" Boggs asked, confused by the sudden silence.
"Just," Nicholas began, "I just had a bad feeling."
"I had it too," Charlie added, then started at the water.
"Oh shit I left the oven on bad, or general quarters no stops bad?" Boggs asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
"Something's coming," Nicholas replied absently. She scanned the water of the channel. She had no idea what was sending her danger signals, but she did know it was coming from the harbor.
"There," Charlie said, pointing, "Does that look like a periscope feather to you?" Nicholas followed her sister's gesture and, sure enough, there was a thin black mast sticking out of the water, trailing a white feather of water. If it was caused by a submarine, then it was trying to sneak up the channel into the base proper.
"These Abyssals, do they have submarines?" Nicholas asked.
It took Chief Boggs a moment to reply, "Yeah, pretty nasty ones too. One jumped the Chosin couple months ago." Nicholas shared a look of concern with Charlie, then thought hard about bringing forth her ship side. She had only done this a few times since the end of the battle, and it took a few seconds before she could feel the oddly familiar form of her 5" turret in her hand. A quick look showed that Charlie had similarly equipped herself.
"Come on let's go," Nicholas called, then started to move to the water, but a hand reached out to grab the back of her blouse. She turned to yell at whoever had stopped her, when she saw that it was Chief Boggs. "What?" she said, a little indignantly.
"Look," he said, then pointed. It took her a second to see what he was pointing at. Racing up the channel after the periscope was a girl, but Nicholas didn't see that. She saw a destroyer, old, but proud. Her sides gleaming with white and black paint and her four, slender funnels streaming thick columns of smoke. Nicholas blinked and saw the girl standing in the place of the ship. She was tiny, looking much shorter than Nicholas or Charlie, and had a long braid of brown hair running down her back. She was wearing what looked like green, Marine dungarees with a green splotched skirt.
The girl was racing now, trying to catch the sub before it could get past the torpedo nets in the channel. With a mighty yell, she heaved back and threw something ahead of her. Nicholas only barely caught sight of the spinning, tumbling object before it splashed into the water ahead of the periscope. She thought she knew what it was, and that thought was confirmed a second later when the surface of the water spalled and convulsed upward with the force of the depth charge exploding.
"Jesus," Charlie whispered. A second later the girl pitched another charge into the water, with a similar result.
"Well, if they didn't know about you, then do now," Boggs muttered, "I bet that woke up half the bay." At first there seemed to be no result from the attack, but then a plume of bubbles rose to the surface of the bay. A second after that, the black, chitinous form of an Abyssals rose to the surface. It was long and squat with a distinct conning tower towards the center of the hull. The Abyssal was clearly wounded, it was leaking black oil from a gash along its deck, but it was still making way. With a renewed roar, the girl brought a gun up to her eye and fired it at the thing with a loud ka-whump.
Nicholas didn't even realize that she was muttering, "Come on. Come on now," as she watched. The first shell struck the sub amidships and caused it to convulse with an internal explosion. It staggered from the force, then appeared to shake off the blow and keep moving. Unshaken, the girl fired a second time, but the shot flew high, missing the sub. She was about to fire again, when another gun spoke.
Nicholas snapped her head around to see another destroyer moving up the channel. She was bigger than the first one, with a tall, blocky superstructure. Nicholas rubbed her eyes and the destroyer was replaced by another girl. This one was a bit taller, and wore a blue, dress blouse with a black and white blotched skirt. Her long, red hair streamed behind her, fluttering in the wind.
The shot from her gun slammed into the sub, and with a final explosion, the sub split in half and began to disappear under the water. Once it was all over, Nicholas could see the two girls, standing on the water, obviously shocked by what had just happened. The rest of them just stood on the pier, stunned by what they had just witnessed. Boggs was the first one to recover.
He pointed out at the water, and said, "Well, go get them. Before some idiot in a pleasure cruiser beats you to it."
"Right-right," Nicholas stammered, then leaped off the pier into the bay. She heard Charlie splash into the water behind her. She carefully made her way over to where the two new arrivals were standing. "Ahoy there," she shouted once she had closed the distance.
She had to repeat herself several times before one of them replied, "Hello."
"I'm USS Nicholas," Nicholas said pointing at herself, then jerked a thumb at Charlie, "And that's Charles Ausburne, and you are?"
The one wearing dungarees replied first, "Ward, USS Ward DD-139. Where am I?"
Sensing that it was her turn, the second girl spoke, "Mahan DD-364, I believe that this is Pearl Harbor though I do not recognize any of the ships, or the buildings. Perhaps we are in a different time period?"
"Partly," Charlie deadpanned.
"I think that we can answer everything, but right now let's get you out of the water," Nicholas said, then began to sail back towards the pier. She cast a look over her shoulder to ensure that she was being followed. The two newcomers looked confused for a second, then began to follow.
Once Nicholas was close to the pier, Chief Boggs shouted, "So who are they?"
"USS Ward and USS Mahan," Nicholas replied, "A Clemson and a Mahan."
"Damn, skipper's gonna flip when he hears this," Boggs muttered.
"Who? Who's this?" Ward asked.
"Stabsbootsmann Boggs," Charlie replied, "Our NCO minder."
"Ain't no such thing," Boggs snapped, "Senior Chief Rowin Boggs for the non-krauts. I'm the unit CMC, and I figure you two will be joining that unit shortly."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Mahan said. She hopped up onto the pier and sent her equipment back to wherever it came from. The rest of the girls followed until they were all standing there, wringing sea spray from their hair and shirts.
"I need to tell the skipper bout this one," Boggs repeated softly. His phone began to trill causing his to curse, then he looked at the screen and said, "Speak of the devil." Putting the device to his ear, he said, "You're not gonna believe this one, skipper. Just some Abyssal mini-sub trying to sneak into the bay. We got two more of them by the way."
[][][]
Matt Dover never did like talking to admirals, at least he liked this one. One Vice Admiral Steven Davies, the former commander of Enterprise's battlegroup, and the current commander of 3rd Fleet surface elements, Matt's boss. Matt knocked on the man's door, and waited. A second later, he heard a, "Come in."
"Good morning, sir. You wanted to see me," he said, stepping in to stand in front of the Admiral's desk, his eyes hovering at a point six inches above the man's head.
"At ease commander," Davies said. Matt relaxed and lowered his gaze to look at the Admiral. Davies was a small man, but you could never tell that by just looking at him. He exuded a command presence that made him look much larger than he actually was. Matt took a seat in front of his desk, and looked around. It was at that point that he noticed the girl sitting in the corner trying her hardest to disappear into the chair she was sitting in. He had a good idea who she was, but decided not to ask for the time being. "You've caused me a lot of trouble, commander," Davies said, suddenly.
Matt raised an eyebrow, then asked, "How so?"
"I've been on and off the phone with CINCPAC for the last two days, trying to come up with what we're going to do with those girls of yours."
"I don't understand..."
Davies held up a hand, then continued, "We finally had to buck the problem all the way up to the Joint Chiefs. Apparently they see potential in this. Human ships who can fight the monsters directly. They were very enthusiastic."
"So, what now, sir?" Matt asked, anticipating the response.
"Right now? We fold the current girls and any future ones into your command. You will be the nominal commander, and we'll come up with a more permanent solution just as soon as the JCS give me an answer. Until then, continue to serve as their CO, and help them integrate with the current situation."
"Aye aye sir," Matt replied, then glanced over at the girls siting in the corner.
Davies followed Matt's gaze, and said, "Come on over here, sweetie." She very carefully stood up, then walked over to stand in front of Matt. "This is Johnston," Davies explained, "Coast Guard cutter found her a few hours ago, standing on the water."
"So she's…"
"Under your command now? Yes." Matt looked over the girl for a few seconds, taking in her features. She looked similar to Nicholas and Charlie but had short, brown hair and piercing, blue eyes. She had the same white, dress blouse as the other Fletcher girls, but her skirt was a solid blue.
"I'm Commander Matthew Dover, it's a pleasure to meet you miss," he said, standing and offering her a hand.
She tentatively took the proffered hand and said in a quiet voice, "Johnston, commander. It's nice to meet you, but what's going to happen to me now?"
"Right now we're going to go back to my office and get some transient forms filled out for you," Matt replied in a comforting tone, "Then we'll see about finding you a place to sleep." He turned to look at Davies, "By your leave—" he started to ask, but was cut off by the sound of an explosion from out on the bay.
"What the hell was that?" Davies barked, "Did someone cook off a 5" round, again?"
"No," Johnston's sudden statement caused the two officers in the room to look at her in surprise, "That sounded like a depth charge." A second explosion, just like the first reverberated through the room. "Definitely a depth charge."
"Admiral, if I may, my people are probably in the middle of whatever this is," Matt asked. Davies replied with an affirmative wave of his hand, and Matt reached in his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. Dialing the number from memory, he said, "Boats, tell me that wasn't you. What? Alright I understand, carry on."
"What?" Davies asked, as Matt lowered the phone.
"Sir, a mini-sub just tried to sneak into the bay. It was stopped by two girls," Matt said, then added, "Two new girls."
"I swear Commander, you are just trying to generate more paperwork for me," Davies said with mock indignation, "I've got nothing more for you, go deal with this."
"Aye sir," Matt said, then turned to leave, "Come on, Johnston, this is going to be a long day for you." Matt began to walk out of the room, and the destroyer followed close at his heels. This definitely was going to be a long day for him.
Johnston, Ward, and Mahan
Breakaway25
All hail the Mighty Tomcat
- Location
- Stuck on the Quarterdeck
And some more profile snips
Johnston: 5'3" shoulder length brown hair. wears enlisted white blouse with a navy blue skirt.
Oh, you startled me, commander. I didn't see you come in. Hmm, you want to talk to me? What about? The other girls treat me alright, I guess. It's just that… well, they seem to think of me as being a bit larger than life. You understand? No, well let me try to put it this way. When they see me all they think about is the destroyer that charged the armada a hundred times my size. Sir, I don't feel like that girl most of the time. Sometimes I feel that the if it hadn't been for Captain Evans, we would have never even tried that.
Captain Evans was a wonderful skipper, sir, but then again, I only ever had one. The crew was ready to panic that day, but he kept them strong, kept them fighting. He didn't need to order that charge, and we had no reason to risk ourselves like that. But we couldn't live with ourselves if we did nothing to protect the carriers. I remember after the end of that battle, when I lie sinking. Captain Evans spoke to me. He said told me I had done alright, and that he had been proud to have my as his command. I knew he was speaking to me, even if he had no idea I was listening.
I don't really remember what came after that, just scattered hints of memories really. However, I do remember Captain Evans quite clearly. He spoke to me and his voice was clear. "You have given so much, but would you be willing to give more?" I guess I was, because I heard a voice, my voice reply, without hesitation, "Yes."
Now I'm here, commander, and even if I don't like to remember that day, it is a part of who I am. So I may not be the hero everyone thinks I am, but I am ready to fight, for Captain Evans, and for myself.
CO's comments: Unsure, reserved, questioning. Johnston is shaped by the memories of her service, including her desperate last battle. Her memories weigh down on her constantly, even if she pretends they don't. She is a skillful fighter, but prefers not to fight. She manages it by fighting for others rather than for herself.. She does not like to talk about Samar, and begs people to think about her without that story clouding their judgement.
Ward: 4'2": blonde hair tied in a braid running down her back. Wears Marine dungarees with a green, black, and tan skirt, and an old style flat cap with the legend U.S.S. WARD across the brim.
Hello, commander. It's a lovely day, isn't it? Me? What would you like to know? I think that this new life is fun. I certainly like it better than my old one. Back then I was just another four stacker. Worn out and obsolete before the war even began. Me and my sisters were only kept around because the Navy was too broke to replace us. But even then, I still made a name for myself.
I did get to fire the first shot of the war though. A sneaky Jap sub tried to sneak into the harbor, and I certainly gave him a poundin. Too bad I couldn't help stop them later. Oh, sorry, sir. I knew the Japs are our allies now, but sometimes habit is habit. Ya know? I never did get to see the war end like some of the others, so it may take me a bit to adjust, but I'll try. Just keep their planes away from me, please? I don't think I'm ready for that just yet.
Another thing I like about this new life is getting to be a destroyer again, you understand, don't you, commander? I served out the war as a high speed transport, ferrying Marines from one island to another. It was a good life, and I certainly did my part, but sometimes I just wanted to be a destroyer again. I'll do my part now, commander, don't you worry about that. I may be small, but I can pull my weight, just wait and see. I fired the first shot in my war, and I'll fire the last shot in this new one.
CO's comments: Friendly, jovial, loyal. Ward appears to be younger than the other girls, and acts accordingly. She is known for acting immature on and off the battlefield, but she had proven herself as a competent fighter, even if she is weaker than her comrades. Has a fear of planes.
Mahan: 4'7': red hair worn loose around her shoulders. Wears a blue dress blouse with a black, white, and black block splotched skirt.
Commander, good morning. Is there something you wished to speak with me about? This new life certainly has presented me with several new opportunities. I am finally able to study the works of my namesake, and put his teachings into practice. My namesake? Alfred Thayer Mahan, a man whose teachings helped to define twentieth century warfare. He helped shape the Navy we have today with his treatises, and I'm certain that even you have read his works. I find it interesting how much those ideas apply even to this new war. I find myself living up to his legacy, and I hope that I might be able to achieve even a tenth of the work he did.
How so? Sir, the study of history lies at the foundation of all sound military operations. That was one of his most famous teachings, and it applied even to the Abyssals.They have shown similarities to past enemies, and the tactics they use are definitely taken right from the pages of history. With enough observation and analysis, I do not doubt my ability to devise strategy to counter them.
How am I integrating with the others? I will be the first to admit that I am not the best fighter, but I attempt to make up for this by using my skills for other purposes. Strategy and tactics are my forte, and I am more than willing to serve as an advisor for you and whoever else would like my opinions. I may not be the best choice when it comes to fighting the Abyssals directly, but I believe that my strategies may be able to end this war all the much sooner.
CO's comments: Studious, knowledgeable, smart. Mahan takes heavily after her namesake, and holds a high regard for Admiral Mahan. She carries a copy of his most famous work around with her at all times. Though not the most accomplished fighter(her gunnery and torpedo accuracy scores are below average when compared to the other girls, and her combat maneuvering could use work) she makes up for this weakness in other ways, namely strategic planning.
Johnston: 5'3" shoulder length brown hair. wears enlisted white blouse with a navy blue skirt.
Oh, you startled me, commander. I didn't see you come in. Hmm, you want to talk to me? What about? The other girls treat me alright, I guess. It's just that… well, they seem to think of me as being a bit larger than life. You understand? No, well let me try to put it this way. When they see me all they think about is the destroyer that charged the armada a hundred times my size. Sir, I don't feel like that girl most of the time. Sometimes I feel that the if it hadn't been for Captain Evans, we would have never even tried that.
Captain Evans was a wonderful skipper, sir, but then again, I only ever had one. The crew was ready to panic that day, but he kept them strong, kept them fighting. He didn't need to order that charge, and we had no reason to risk ourselves like that. But we couldn't live with ourselves if we did nothing to protect the carriers. I remember after the end of that battle, when I lie sinking. Captain Evans spoke to me. He said told me I had done alright, and that he had been proud to have my as his command. I knew he was speaking to me, even if he had no idea I was listening.
I don't really remember what came after that, just scattered hints of memories really. However, I do remember Captain Evans quite clearly. He spoke to me and his voice was clear. "You have given so much, but would you be willing to give more?" I guess I was, because I heard a voice, my voice reply, without hesitation, "Yes."
Now I'm here, commander, and even if I don't like to remember that day, it is a part of who I am. So I may not be the hero everyone thinks I am, but I am ready to fight, for Captain Evans, and for myself.
CO's comments: Unsure, reserved, questioning. Johnston is shaped by the memories of her service, including her desperate last battle. Her memories weigh down on her constantly, even if she pretends they don't. She is a skillful fighter, but prefers not to fight. She manages it by fighting for others rather than for herself.. She does not like to talk about Samar, and begs people to think about her without that story clouding their judgement.
Ward: 4'2": blonde hair tied in a braid running down her back. Wears Marine dungarees with a green, black, and tan skirt, and an old style flat cap with the legend U.S.S. WARD across the brim.
Hello, commander. It's a lovely day, isn't it? Me? What would you like to know? I think that this new life is fun. I certainly like it better than my old one. Back then I was just another four stacker. Worn out and obsolete before the war even began. Me and my sisters were only kept around because the Navy was too broke to replace us. But even then, I still made a name for myself.
I did get to fire the first shot of the war though. A sneaky Jap sub tried to sneak into the harbor, and I certainly gave him a poundin. Too bad I couldn't help stop them later. Oh, sorry, sir. I knew the Japs are our allies now, but sometimes habit is habit. Ya know? I never did get to see the war end like some of the others, so it may take me a bit to adjust, but I'll try. Just keep their planes away from me, please? I don't think I'm ready for that just yet.
Another thing I like about this new life is getting to be a destroyer again, you understand, don't you, commander? I served out the war as a high speed transport, ferrying Marines from one island to another. It was a good life, and I certainly did my part, but sometimes I just wanted to be a destroyer again. I'll do my part now, commander, don't you worry about that. I may be small, but I can pull my weight, just wait and see. I fired the first shot in my war, and I'll fire the last shot in this new one.
CO's comments: Friendly, jovial, loyal. Ward appears to be younger than the other girls, and acts accordingly. She is known for acting immature on and off the battlefield, but she had proven herself as a competent fighter, even if she is weaker than her comrades. Has a fear of planes.
Mahan: 4'7': red hair worn loose around her shoulders. Wears a blue dress blouse with a black, white, and black block splotched skirt.
Commander, good morning. Is there something you wished to speak with me about? This new life certainly has presented me with several new opportunities. I am finally able to study the works of my namesake, and put his teachings into practice. My namesake? Alfred Thayer Mahan, a man whose teachings helped to define twentieth century warfare. He helped shape the Navy we have today with his treatises, and I'm certain that even you have read his works. I find it interesting how much those ideas apply even to this new war. I find myself living up to his legacy, and I hope that I might be able to achieve even a tenth of the work he did.
How so? Sir, the study of history lies at the foundation of all sound military operations. That was one of his most famous teachings, and it applied even to the Abyssals.They have shown similarities to past enemies, and the tactics they use are definitely taken right from the pages of history. With enough observation and analysis, I do not doubt my ability to devise strategy to counter them.
How am I integrating with the others? I will be the first to admit that I am not the best fighter, but I attempt to make up for this by using my skills for other purposes. Strategy and tactics are my forte, and I am more than willing to serve as an advisor for you and whoever else would like my opinions. I may not be the best choice when it comes to fighting the Abyssals directly, but I believe that my strategies may be able to end this war all the much sooner.
CO's comments: Studious, knowledgeable, smart. Mahan takes heavily after her namesake, and holds a high regard for Admiral Mahan. She carries a copy of his most famous work around with her at all times. Though not the most accomplished fighter(her gunnery and torpedo accuracy scores are below average when compared to the other girls, and her combat maneuvering could use work) she makes up for this weakness in other ways, namely strategic planning.
Exterminatus
Tsukumogami User
- Location
- Southern California
That's quite an explosive introduction Ward and Mahan had there. I wonder what the Navy will have the five shipgirls do now that they're here.
- Location
- In the depts of despair.
I like how you plan to characterize USS Jonhson, most people write her as daring as hell, but her service record was actually quite short. She was commisioned in late 43' missing the really desperate battles the USN fought during the first year of the war, mostly giving close support to the marines and once sinking an enemy sub. In fact the escort of CVE's was supposed to be a milk run with Halsey covering them as well and I'm pretty sure most of the Jonhson's crew would have loved to have another boring tour.
Jonhson ended up leading not only the initial charge against the enemy fleet, but also giving support and cover to the rest of the task group even after taking more than enough damage to honorably retreat to relative safety. In fact her last meaningful act of the battle was to spoil the torpedo run of a full destroyer squadron, which after launching from too far away targeted Jonhson until she was sunk, and with it 186 of its sailors.
Jonhson ended up leading not only the initial charge against the enemy fleet, but also giving support and cover to the rest of the task group even after taking more than enough damage to honorably retreat to relative safety. In fact her last meaningful act of the battle was to spoil the torpedo run of a full destroyer squadron, which after launching from too far away targeted Jonhson until she was sunk, and with it 186 of its sailors.
Breakaway25
All hail the Mighty Tomcat
- Location
- Stuck on the Quarterdeck
That's what the next chapter is for...
I came up with my characterization for Johnston after reading Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors. The fight at Samar was a lot more desperate and harrowing than most people paint it. So I like to think that Johnston would be a bit more wary of getting into a fight than other people paint her.
Breakaway25
All hail the Mighty Tomcat
- Location
- Stuck on the Quarterdeck
Okay, here's the deal with this, I had some IRL problems hit me hard towards the end of last semester and pretty much lost all interest in writing.
When I got back home I had a job opportunity fall in my lap so I jumped on it.
Now that things are starting to settle down, I am getting back into writing, and should have some updates for this and BamaQuest up soon.
When I got back home I had a job opportunity fall in my lap so I jumped on it.
Now that things are starting to settle down, I am getting back into writing, and should have some updates for this and BamaQuest up soon.
- Location
- england
good to see you getting slowly back on the horse
Chapter 3
Breakaway25
All hail the Mighty Tomcat
- Location
- Stuck on the Quarterdeck
Pearl Harbor Naval Base, June 26, 2032
Things had been moving quickly over the last few days, and Matt Dover still couldn't decide whether or not he liked where they were heading. A lot of debates had been sparked over the nature of the destroyers, and what the Navy wanted to do with them. So Matt wasn't at all surprised when Admiral Davies had asked to see him and Nicholas for a word. They were meeting in Matt's office, but he had never felt so out of place in his life. A message form had been thrust into his hand a few minutes into the conversation, and now Matt held it with shaking hands. "You want to what?" Matt said in confusion, trying hard not to append a curse.
"Commander, you have to see our position," Davies replied, "Most of the Pentagon doesn't think that these girls can do anything for the war."
"Sir, with respect, they know exactly what they can do," Matt replied, jumping to his feet, "They showed us, two times now."
"Then I don't see why you are so opposed to letting them do it again," Davies said, gesturing to the message form.
"Because they aren't ready for full combat operations yet," Matt barked, perhaps a little too harshly. The message had been a directive from the Pentagon, ordering him to deploy the destroyers as soon as possible. Someone up the chain wanted to throw the girls into the battle now. "Admiral, some of them have only been human for a few days. Hell, we're still having to teach them how to be human."
Davies sighed, then stared up at the ceiling, "Believe me commander, I am on your side on this, but you don't see all the connotations with this."
"Sir, what the hell are you talking about?" Matt asked, incredulously. Davies sat down on the edge of Matt's desk and turned to look at Nicholas. The girl had said barely two words since this meeting had begun, and had been sitting silently in the corner, listening.
Davies took a long breath before saying, "There is a large group in the Pentagon that does not want to believe that the girls are ships."
"What? They can walk on water and carry ship weapons. How can they not believe they are ships?" Matt interrupted.
"Let me finish, commander," it was clear from Davies' tone that he was becoming annoyed at Matt's protests. Davies sighed then began again, "It's not that they don't believe that they are ships, it's that they don't want to believe them. Think about it, commander, what that would mean for the nation." Matt didn't understand at first. Why would the nation be opposed to the spirits of ships returned as humans?
Then he understood, "That the warships we build are living, feeling beings in their own right."
"Exactly," Davies replied, "How timid would captains become if they are informed that their ships has a consciousness. Would they be unwilling to sacrifice their ship, thinking that they were killing her?"
"I never thought of that," Matt said, his voice growing husky. His thoughts drifted to Halsey. She must have had a spirit just like Nicholas and the others. What would she think about the way he had sacrificed her? What would she think about him?
"They wouldn't," Nicholas spoke up, causing both Matt and Davies to look at her in surprise, "We know that we are ships. We know that our purpose is to serve our country. I was willing to die back then, and I'm willing to die now."
"I don't doubt that," Davies allowed, "And I'm certain that every ship would say the same thing if it was able, but that doesn't change the fact that this is going to cause fundamental changes to the way we treat our ships." A wry smirk crossed his face, "Certainly brings a whole new meaning to 'Man your ship and bring her to life'."
"That doesn't answer why this came down the pipe," Matt said, shaking the message in his hands, "Why am I being told to throw the girls into combat?"
Davies was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice was soft, "We want to know what they can do in a full combat situation. The Pentagon doesn't want to go public before they see what they are capable of."
Matt narrowed his eyes in rage, and was only barely able to keep his tone civil, "So the Navy doesn't want to have anything to do with them unless they can prove that they can be useful in combat? With respect sir, what the fuck?"
"My sentiments exactly," Davies admitted, "I argued the exact same points with the CINCPAC, but this idea is coming from way up the chain. Perhaps even the CNO himself." Matt shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around what he had been ordered to do. These girls had been human for barely a week in some cases. Already he had been forced to teach them some of the more salient points of human existence. Like how one had to eat on a regular basis, or why playing in traffic was a bad idea. That had been an interesting day to be sure. Matt had never had children, but he envisioned that raising a daughter would be a very similar experience.
"Sir," Nicholas spoke up, "I'm ready to fight. The more we learn about this war, the more we want to be a part of it."
"I'd like to say the decision is yours," Matt sighed, "But I can't be that cliché. The decision is mine and mine alone." He stared at the girl for a long moment. She looked so young, like she didn't belong anywhere near a war. But if the destroyers had taught him anything, it was that they were more than they appeared. "Very well," Matt said, his voice strangely distant, "Nicholas, I am ordering you to assemble a unit and take it on a patrol of the Hawaiian demarcation line." Matt spoke of the vague line between the safe waters of the Hawaiian Islands, and the dangerous waters of the Pacific. It was a tenuous thing and it shifted almost daily as the Abyssals made more and more attacks.
"Aye sir," Nicholas said, standing.
"I understand how difficult this is for you, commander," Davies said, "If you can keep your girls in line, I will try to keep the feather merchants off your back."
Matt nodded his thanks, then had another thought, "What about commissions? Did the higher ups say anything about authorizing commissions for the girls?"
Davies looked away in thought, then replied, "The only word I got on their status was that they were to be enlisted as E-3 Seamen." Matt didn't know where his sudden idea came from. Maybe it was his way of helping the girls transition more into the Navy system, or maybe it was just him trying to spite the higher ups by tacking on a condition to his acceptance of their orders.
"Would you endorse a commission if I filled out the paperwork?"
"Who do you have in mind?" Davies asked, intrigued.
"Nicholas," Matt replied, staring right at the girl, "I think she would make a fine ensign, and a good officer." The destroyer didn't say anything, but started tugging at her collar as her face began to turn a shade of bright red.
[][][]
It had taken almost three hours to convince CINCPAC to endorse a commission for Nicholas. After that, filling out the paperwork to make her an ensign had taken twenty minutes. Now they were trying to find the rest of the destroyer girls in order to break the news to them about the coming days. After some searching, Matt finally located them in the main harbor. The four destroyer girls were getting some practice in, which means they were capering around the harbor at max speed, cutting sharply to dodge floating barrels.
The scene had drawn quite a crowd, of both sailors and civilians. The press was thick enough that Matt had been forced to park the duty van in the base and walk to the water's edge. He could see that more than a few of the sailors had their phones out and were filming the destroyer girls practicing. They had to come up with a statement for the nature of the girls soon, because it wouldn't be long before those pictures and videos were all over the internet.
Matt pushed through the crowd to the water's edge. He paused for a second, watching the girls practice their maneuvers. Charlie seemed to have no trouble pulling the tight turns, but the other three were having trouble to varying degrees. Matt watched as Johnston tried to cut the turn to sharply and lost her balance. The destroyer then proceeded to fall on her butt. To Matt's surprise, she didn't sink, but rather slid across the water for a few feet like it was ice. More craziness about the ship girls he guessed. It seemed that Matt learned something new about them every day.
Finally, he figured he had watched long enough and raised his voice, "Bring it in girls." His sudden shout caused the sailors around him to turn and stare. "Don't you all have places to be?" he chastised, crossing his arms over his chest. It didn't take long after that for the group of sailors to disappear. A few minutes after that the destroyers sailed up to where Matt was standing.
"What's the deal, skipper?" Charlie asked, reaching up to pull herself out of the water.
Matt slowly shook his head, "First off, you don't address a superior like that, and second, I'll let you know in a minute."
"Sorry sir," Charlie replied, then quickly averted her eyes. She seemed to be very interested in a point across the bay, and didn't look back until the rest of the destroyers were out of the water and standing around Matt.
He cleared his throat to get their attention, then said, "Things are about to start moving quickly around here, so I need you to listen up," he uncrossed his arms then spoke in a tone that required no question, "Our orders have been altered. You are to go into active patrol as soon as possible." There was a moment of stunned silence while the weight of what Matt had just said sunk in.
Then Charlie spoke up, her voice indignant, "They want us to go into the deep end this soon after we got here? What kind of dummkopf is running this Navy." She walked over to Nicholas and threw her arm around her sister, who seemed to tense up with the touch, "Don't get me wrong, I'm ready to go, but still…"
"You're preaching to the choir, Charlie," Matt replied, throwing up his arms in consternation, "I tried to get this delayed, at least long enough for you to adjust more, but things are going badly on the pointy end right now."
"So we're being thrown in right off the bat," Johnston said, her voice distant. She had turned her eyes down towards the ground, and Matt could see that something was bothering her. He would have to look into that in a minute.
"Anyway," Matt continued, "I would like to introduce you all to your new commanding officer, Ensign Nicholas." He pointed to Nicholas, who was still being embraced by Charlie. That statement brought about a new round of silence as everyone turned to stare at Nicholas.
Charlie broke the silence again, and squeezed Nicholas in an even tighter embrace, "Good job Nicky, you deserve the bars of a Leutnant."
"So she's an officer now," Ward said, jerking a thumb towards Nicholas, "How about that."
"Yes," Matt replied, "She is an officer, and your commander. So I want you all to treat her with respect and obey her orders."
"Hey skipper," Charlie said, releasing Nicholas from her embrace, "We already do that anyway." Matt simply nodded. It had been clear that Nicholas was the leader of the group. She had been leading them for several days now.
"Good," Matt replied, "Then I'll turn it over to her." He made an exaggerated waving gesture, then stepped back.
Nicholas had to cough a few times in order to catch her breath, then she said, "We'll need to step up our training schedule over the next few days. I want all of us to be as ready as possible for when we go active. Understand?"
There was a chorus of, "Yes, ma'am's." Matt grinned, he figured things were well in hand here, and he had some more business to take care of back in the headquarters.
"Good luck, Ensign," he announced, "Take command of your division. I need to catch up on some paperwork." Nicholas nodded her acknowledgement, then turned back to the girls. Matt took one last look, then began to walk back to the duty van.
[][][]
Johnston felt like she was in a daze. Combat, this soon after she had returned? From her perspective it was only a week ago that she had been fighting a desperate battle for her life. The memories of that last battle and what followed were still haunting her, and she had been woken up by nightmares on more than one occasion. She was supposed to be a warship of the United States Navy, not a scared little girl. But that's what she felt like. When Commander Dover had made that announcement, she had felt like someone had wacked her in the head with a board. She didn't know if she could handle going into combat again, especially against the Abyssal monsters.
Her mind was racing so quickly that she didn't hear a word Nicholas said. Apparently Nicholas had noticed this because the Ensign said, "Would you like to join us, Ms. Johnston?"
"Sorry," Johnston replied, blushing. She tried to listen to the conversation, but it wasn't long before her thoughts wandered off again. That last battle had shaken her to her core, even though she had still been a ship. The feeling that nothing she could do would make a difference. She would fight till her last then and now, but she never wanted to have that feeling again. Now she was here as a human, and was once again stuck in a fight where she had no idea if she could make a difference in. A thought suddenly entered her head. She turned to leave the group, quickly saying, "Sorry, ma'am, I need to ask the Commander a question." She didn't stick around long enough to hear Nicholas' reply.
It didn't take long to catch Commander Dover; he was still slowly walking towards the van. "Sir," Johnston shouted, "Can I ask you something, sir?" Dover froze in place, then turned to look back at Johnston.
"Shouldn't you be back with the others?" Dover inquired, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Probably, sir, but I need to ask you a question, and it can't wait," Johnston quickly replied.
"Very well, what is it?" Dover asked, lifting his cover to run a hand through his hair.
"Sir, what can you tell me about the Abyssals?" Johnston asked, looking up at Dover expectantly, "You've seen them firsthand, what can we expect?" Dover froze while holding his cover above his head, stunned by Johnston's question.
He slowly lowered the cover back onto his head, then said, "We don't know a lot about them really. They take the form of warships, but are so hodgepodge that there is no real way to categorize them. They fight with an aggressiveness that I have never seen before," Dover turned to look out over the harbor, staring at a ship docked on the far side of the base, "Even when we had them outclassed, they would fight until there was literally nothing left of them but flotsam. One more than one occasion, they rammed themselves into our ships, sinking both in the process. They try to overwhelm our formations with sheer numbers, sending ten ships to take out five of ours. We can hold our own, but we lose ships in every battle. They seem to have an infinite number of ships, we don't.
"So, how do we fight them?" Johnston was surprised to hear Mahan ask the question. She whirled about to see that the other destroyers had followed her, and had been listening to Commander Dover with rapt attention.
"The Abyssals will not stop until they have destroyed everything on the ocean, and that is why we need your help," Dover said with a sigh, "Our weapons barely work against them, and we're losing ships faster than we can plug holes. It won't be long before we can't hold them back any longer." Johnston felt something akin to panic. Was the Navy losing that badly? If they couldn't stop them, then what the hell was she supposed to do?
"So," Nicholas spoke up, she walked past the rest of the girls to stand in front of Dover, "What do we do?" Nicholas' move caused Johnston to pause in thought. Maybe what they needed was to work together. She had spent most of that day all by herself, maybe if she had stayed with her division mates things might have ended differently.
"Fight them," Dover replied clasping his hands together in thought, "Help us scour them from the surface of the ocean. Help us destroy every last one of their stinking hulls. Help us fix the mess they created."
"When do we start?" Charlie asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"As soon as your division officer tells me your ready," Dover replied.
"Give me three days," Nicholas replied after a minute of thought.
"Good," Dover said, then stepped into the van. He started the motor and began to drive away, but stopped momentarily. "You girls are going to do great things," He shouted out the window, then drove off. Dover's words stirred something inside of Johnston, a feeling that replaced the panic that had gripped her moments before. For some reason, she started to believe that they just might have a chance at this. She started to think that she might be able to make a difference.
[][][]
When Matt stepped back into his office, he felt like someone had rested the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had felt it all day, but it was only now that the full volume of the situation finally hit him. He didn't want to send those girls into combat, not when they had only had a short amount of time to train. Part of him didn't want to send them at all. They didn't deserve to waste their new lives fighting a war that wasn't theirs, but the rest of him knew that without their help, the US Navy would probably lose this war.
Matt sighed, and slammed his fist down on the desk. Damn he hated this. He hated the Abyssals for all they had done, and he hated them for forcing him to throw those girls into the war. His phone rang a second later, and caused him to look up in surprise. "Commander Matthew Dover, Office of Management Analysis," he answered. They still hadn't come up with anything new to call the office, so they had stuck with the old name. A voice came over the line that he didn't recognize.
"Commander, I am glad that I finally reached you," whoever it was on the other end of the line, he sounded foreign. Matt couldn't place the accent exactly, but he knew it wasn't American. "I am Captain Hideki Okada with the Japanese Self Defense Force, and I believe that you can help me." Now Matt was confused, what did a Japanese captain want with him?
"Possibly," Matt hedged, "What exactly do you need?"
"I was told that you were the officer to speak with about a something… odd that has happened to us recently," Okada said. Now things were getting weird.
"What kind of thing?"
"Recently five young women appeared out of nowhere and assisted one of our destroyers in battling an Abyssal. They sailed across the water's surface and carried naval weapons. After the battle they claimed that they were destroyers of the old Imperial Navy returned to fight the new war. I was told that you might have experienced something similar?" Matt almost dropped the phone.
The only thing he managed to say was, "What?"
[][][]
A/N:
I apologize for the long hiatus but after the end of last semester I had some real life problems hit that completely sapped my ability to write. After that I had a job opportunity fall in my lap, and have been busy with that over the last few weeks. I'm trying to update this and BamaQuest, but real life takes precedence.
Things had been moving quickly over the last few days, and Matt Dover still couldn't decide whether or not he liked where they were heading. A lot of debates had been sparked over the nature of the destroyers, and what the Navy wanted to do with them. So Matt wasn't at all surprised when Admiral Davies had asked to see him and Nicholas for a word. They were meeting in Matt's office, but he had never felt so out of place in his life. A message form had been thrust into his hand a few minutes into the conversation, and now Matt held it with shaking hands. "You want to what?" Matt said in confusion, trying hard not to append a curse.
"Commander, you have to see our position," Davies replied, "Most of the Pentagon doesn't think that these girls can do anything for the war."
"Sir, with respect, they know exactly what they can do," Matt replied, jumping to his feet, "They showed us, two times now."
"Then I don't see why you are so opposed to letting them do it again," Davies said, gesturing to the message form.
"Because they aren't ready for full combat operations yet," Matt barked, perhaps a little too harshly. The message had been a directive from the Pentagon, ordering him to deploy the destroyers as soon as possible. Someone up the chain wanted to throw the girls into the battle now. "Admiral, some of them have only been human for a few days. Hell, we're still having to teach them how to be human."
Davies sighed, then stared up at the ceiling, "Believe me commander, I am on your side on this, but you don't see all the connotations with this."
"Sir, what the hell are you talking about?" Matt asked, incredulously. Davies sat down on the edge of Matt's desk and turned to look at Nicholas. The girl had said barely two words since this meeting had begun, and had been sitting silently in the corner, listening.
Davies took a long breath before saying, "There is a large group in the Pentagon that does not want to believe that the girls are ships."
"What? They can walk on water and carry ship weapons. How can they not believe they are ships?" Matt interrupted.
"Let me finish, commander," it was clear from Davies' tone that he was becoming annoyed at Matt's protests. Davies sighed then began again, "It's not that they don't believe that they are ships, it's that they don't want to believe them. Think about it, commander, what that would mean for the nation." Matt didn't understand at first. Why would the nation be opposed to the spirits of ships returned as humans?
Then he understood, "That the warships we build are living, feeling beings in their own right."
"Exactly," Davies replied, "How timid would captains become if they are informed that their ships has a consciousness. Would they be unwilling to sacrifice their ship, thinking that they were killing her?"
"I never thought of that," Matt said, his voice growing husky. His thoughts drifted to Halsey. She must have had a spirit just like Nicholas and the others. What would she think about the way he had sacrificed her? What would she think about him?
"They wouldn't," Nicholas spoke up, causing both Matt and Davies to look at her in surprise, "We know that we are ships. We know that our purpose is to serve our country. I was willing to die back then, and I'm willing to die now."
"I don't doubt that," Davies allowed, "And I'm certain that every ship would say the same thing if it was able, but that doesn't change the fact that this is going to cause fundamental changes to the way we treat our ships." A wry smirk crossed his face, "Certainly brings a whole new meaning to 'Man your ship and bring her to life'."
"That doesn't answer why this came down the pipe," Matt said, shaking the message in his hands, "Why am I being told to throw the girls into combat?"
Davies was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice was soft, "We want to know what they can do in a full combat situation. The Pentagon doesn't want to go public before they see what they are capable of."
Matt narrowed his eyes in rage, and was only barely able to keep his tone civil, "So the Navy doesn't want to have anything to do with them unless they can prove that they can be useful in combat? With respect sir, what the fuck?"
"My sentiments exactly," Davies admitted, "I argued the exact same points with the CINCPAC, but this idea is coming from way up the chain. Perhaps even the CNO himself." Matt shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around what he had been ordered to do. These girls had been human for barely a week in some cases. Already he had been forced to teach them some of the more salient points of human existence. Like how one had to eat on a regular basis, or why playing in traffic was a bad idea. That had been an interesting day to be sure. Matt had never had children, but he envisioned that raising a daughter would be a very similar experience.
"Sir," Nicholas spoke up, "I'm ready to fight. The more we learn about this war, the more we want to be a part of it."
"I'd like to say the decision is yours," Matt sighed, "But I can't be that cliché. The decision is mine and mine alone." He stared at the girl for a long moment. She looked so young, like she didn't belong anywhere near a war. But if the destroyers had taught him anything, it was that they were more than they appeared. "Very well," Matt said, his voice strangely distant, "Nicholas, I am ordering you to assemble a unit and take it on a patrol of the Hawaiian demarcation line." Matt spoke of the vague line between the safe waters of the Hawaiian Islands, and the dangerous waters of the Pacific. It was a tenuous thing and it shifted almost daily as the Abyssals made more and more attacks.
"Aye sir," Nicholas said, standing.
"I understand how difficult this is for you, commander," Davies said, "If you can keep your girls in line, I will try to keep the feather merchants off your back."
Matt nodded his thanks, then had another thought, "What about commissions? Did the higher ups say anything about authorizing commissions for the girls?"
Davies looked away in thought, then replied, "The only word I got on their status was that they were to be enlisted as E-3 Seamen." Matt didn't know where his sudden idea came from. Maybe it was his way of helping the girls transition more into the Navy system, or maybe it was just him trying to spite the higher ups by tacking on a condition to his acceptance of their orders.
"Would you endorse a commission if I filled out the paperwork?"
"Who do you have in mind?" Davies asked, intrigued.
"Nicholas," Matt replied, staring right at the girl, "I think she would make a fine ensign, and a good officer." The destroyer didn't say anything, but started tugging at her collar as her face began to turn a shade of bright red.
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It had taken almost three hours to convince CINCPAC to endorse a commission for Nicholas. After that, filling out the paperwork to make her an ensign had taken twenty minutes. Now they were trying to find the rest of the destroyer girls in order to break the news to them about the coming days. After some searching, Matt finally located them in the main harbor. The four destroyer girls were getting some practice in, which means they were capering around the harbor at max speed, cutting sharply to dodge floating barrels.
The scene had drawn quite a crowd, of both sailors and civilians. The press was thick enough that Matt had been forced to park the duty van in the base and walk to the water's edge. He could see that more than a few of the sailors had their phones out and were filming the destroyer girls practicing. They had to come up with a statement for the nature of the girls soon, because it wouldn't be long before those pictures and videos were all over the internet.
Matt pushed through the crowd to the water's edge. He paused for a second, watching the girls practice their maneuvers. Charlie seemed to have no trouble pulling the tight turns, but the other three were having trouble to varying degrees. Matt watched as Johnston tried to cut the turn to sharply and lost her balance. The destroyer then proceeded to fall on her butt. To Matt's surprise, she didn't sink, but rather slid across the water for a few feet like it was ice. More craziness about the ship girls he guessed. It seemed that Matt learned something new about them every day.
Finally, he figured he had watched long enough and raised his voice, "Bring it in girls." His sudden shout caused the sailors around him to turn and stare. "Don't you all have places to be?" he chastised, crossing his arms over his chest. It didn't take long after that for the group of sailors to disappear. A few minutes after that the destroyers sailed up to where Matt was standing.
"What's the deal, skipper?" Charlie asked, reaching up to pull herself out of the water.
Matt slowly shook his head, "First off, you don't address a superior like that, and second, I'll let you know in a minute."
"Sorry sir," Charlie replied, then quickly averted her eyes. She seemed to be very interested in a point across the bay, and didn't look back until the rest of the destroyers were out of the water and standing around Matt.
He cleared his throat to get their attention, then said, "Things are about to start moving quickly around here, so I need you to listen up," he uncrossed his arms then spoke in a tone that required no question, "Our orders have been altered. You are to go into active patrol as soon as possible." There was a moment of stunned silence while the weight of what Matt had just said sunk in.
Then Charlie spoke up, her voice indignant, "They want us to go into the deep end this soon after we got here? What kind of dummkopf is running this Navy." She walked over to Nicholas and threw her arm around her sister, who seemed to tense up with the touch, "Don't get me wrong, I'm ready to go, but still…"
"You're preaching to the choir, Charlie," Matt replied, throwing up his arms in consternation, "I tried to get this delayed, at least long enough for you to adjust more, but things are going badly on the pointy end right now."
"So we're being thrown in right off the bat," Johnston said, her voice distant. She had turned her eyes down towards the ground, and Matt could see that something was bothering her. He would have to look into that in a minute.
"Anyway," Matt continued, "I would like to introduce you all to your new commanding officer, Ensign Nicholas." He pointed to Nicholas, who was still being embraced by Charlie. That statement brought about a new round of silence as everyone turned to stare at Nicholas.
Charlie broke the silence again, and squeezed Nicholas in an even tighter embrace, "Good job Nicky, you deserve the bars of a Leutnant."
"So she's an officer now," Ward said, jerking a thumb towards Nicholas, "How about that."
"Yes," Matt replied, "She is an officer, and your commander. So I want you all to treat her with respect and obey her orders."
"Hey skipper," Charlie said, releasing Nicholas from her embrace, "We already do that anyway." Matt simply nodded. It had been clear that Nicholas was the leader of the group. She had been leading them for several days now.
"Good," Matt replied, "Then I'll turn it over to her." He made an exaggerated waving gesture, then stepped back.
Nicholas had to cough a few times in order to catch her breath, then she said, "We'll need to step up our training schedule over the next few days. I want all of us to be as ready as possible for when we go active. Understand?"
There was a chorus of, "Yes, ma'am's." Matt grinned, he figured things were well in hand here, and he had some more business to take care of back in the headquarters.
"Good luck, Ensign," he announced, "Take command of your division. I need to catch up on some paperwork." Nicholas nodded her acknowledgement, then turned back to the girls. Matt took one last look, then began to walk back to the duty van.
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Johnston felt like she was in a daze. Combat, this soon after she had returned? From her perspective it was only a week ago that she had been fighting a desperate battle for her life. The memories of that last battle and what followed were still haunting her, and she had been woken up by nightmares on more than one occasion. She was supposed to be a warship of the United States Navy, not a scared little girl. But that's what she felt like. When Commander Dover had made that announcement, she had felt like someone had wacked her in the head with a board. She didn't know if she could handle going into combat again, especially against the Abyssal monsters.
Her mind was racing so quickly that she didn't hear a word Nicholas said. Apparently Nicholas had noticed this because the Ensign said, "Would you like to join us, Ms. Johnston?"
"Sorry," Johnston replied, blushing. She tried to listen to the conversation, but it wasn't long before her thoughts wandered off again. That last battle had shaken her to her core, even though she had still been a ship. The feeling that nothing she could do would make a difference. She would fight till her last then and now, but she never wanted to have that feeling again. Now she was here as a human, and was once again stuck in a fight where she had no idea if she could make a difference in. A thought suddenly entered her head. She turned to leave the group, quickly saying, "Sorry, ma'am, I need to ask the Commander a question." She didn't stick around long enough to hear Nicholas' reply.
It didn't take long to catch Commander Dover; he was still slowly walking towards the van. "Sir," Johnston shouted, "Can I ask you something, sir?" Dover froze in place, then turned to look back at Johnston.
"Shouldn't you be back with the others?" Dover inquired, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Probably, sir, but I need to ask you a question, and it can't wait," Johnston quickly replied.
"Very well, what is it?" Dover asked, lifting his cover to run a hand through his hair.
"Sir, what can you tell me about the Abyssals?" Johnston asked, looking up at Dover expectantly, "You've seen them firsthand, what can we expect?" Dover froze while holding his cover above his head, stunned by Johnston's question.
He slowly lowered the cover back onto his head, then said, "We don't know a lot about them really. They take the form of warships, but are so hodgepodge that there is no real way to categorize them. They fight with an aggressiveness that I have never seen before," Dover turned to look out over the harbor, staring at a ship docked on the far side of the base, "Even when we had them outclassed, they would fight until there was literally nothing left of them but flotsam. One more than one occasion, they rammed themselves into our ships, sinking both in the process. They try to overwhelm our formations with sheer numbers, sending ten ships to take out five of ours. We can hold our own, but we lose ships in every battle. They seem to have an infinite number of ships, we don't.
"So, how do we fight them?" Johnston was surprised to hear Mahan ask the question. She whirled about to see that the other destroyers had followed her, and had been listening to Commander Dover with rapt attention.
"The Abyssals will not stop until they have destroyed everything on the ocean, and that is why we need your help," Dover said with a sigh, "Our weapons barely work against them, and we're losing ships faster than we can plug holes. It won't be long before we can't hold them back any longer." Johnston felt something akin to panic. Was the Navy losing that badly? If they couldn't stop them, then what the hell was she supposed to do?
"So," Nicholas spoke up, she walked past the rest of the girls to stand in front of Dover, "What do we do?" Nicholas' move caused Johnston to pause in thought. Maybe what they needed was to work together. She had spent most of that day all by herself, maybe if she had stayed with her division mates things might have ended differently.
"Fight them," Dover replied clasping his hands together in thought, "Help us scour them from the surface of the ocean. Help us destroy every last one of their stinking hulls. Help us fix the mess they created."
"When do we start?" Charlie asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"As soon as your division officer tells me your ready," Dover replied.
"Give me three days," Nicholas replied after a minute of thought.
"Good," Dover said, then stepped into the van. He started the motor and began to drive away, but stopped momentarily. "You girls are going to do great things," He shouted out the window, then drove off. Dover's words stirred something inside of Johnston, a feeling that replaced the panic that had gripped her moments before. For some reason, she started to believe that they just might have a chance at this. She started to think that she might be able to make a difference.
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When Matt stepped back into his office, he felt like someone had rested the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had felt it all day, but it was only now that the full volume of the situation finally hit him. He didn't want to send those girls into combat, not when they had only had a short amount of time to train. Part of him didn't want to send them at all. They didn't deserve to waste their new lives fighting a war that wasn't theirs, but the rest of him knew that without their help, the US Navy would probably lose this war.
Matt sighed, and slammed his fist down on the desk. Damn he hated this. He hated the Abyssals for all they had done, and he hated them for forcing him to throw those girls into the war. His phone rang a second later, and caused him to look up in surprise. "Commander Matthew Dover, Office of Management Analysis," he answered. They still hadn't come up with anything new to call the office, so they had stuck with the old name. A voice came over the line that he didn't recognize.
"Commander, I am glad that I finally reached you," whoever it was on the other end of the line, he sounded foreign. Matt couldn't place the accent exactly, but he knew it wasn't American. "I am Captain Hideki Okada with the Japanese Self Defense Force, and I believe that you can help me." Now Matt was confused, what did a Japanese captain want with him?
"Possibly," Matt hedged, "What exactly do you need?"
"I was told that you were the officer to speak with about a something… odd that has happened to us recently," Okada said. Now things were getting weird.
"What kind of thing?"
"Recently five young women appeared out of nowhere and assisted one of our destroyers in battling an Abyssal. They sailed across the water's surface and carried naval weapons. After the battle they claimed that they were destroyers of the old Imperial Navy returned to fight the new war. I was told that you might have experienced something similar?" Matt almost dropped the phone.
The only thing he managed to say was, "What?"
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A/N:
I apologize for the long hiatus but after the end of last semester I had some real life problems hit that completely sapped my ability to write. After that I had a job opportunity fall in my lap, and have been busy with that over the last few weeks. I'm trying to update this and BamaQuest, but real life takes precedence.