Fleet of Wrecks | Kancolle Fanfic? Kancolle Fanfic.

[Skynet PR]

The alarm was low, moaning, and hideous.

But there was nobody to hear it.

The GFN klaxon was said to rouse the dead and bind the souls of the living crew.

Perhaps the grumpy sailors of the Federal Navy had been right; as the lights came on and the alarm wailed, the ship... shuddered.

Collapsing. Drifting. The surroundings blurred. Flesh was laid across a metal frame; forces challenged eachother above a small ship speeding past.

Eventually, it found where it was to go, and broke the surface, a spark igniting somewhere deeply

Thus, DDG-144 Rampart came to be.

===


Fleet Of Wrecks — Damage Control 1.0

===


So, not moving around too much is apparently key to not feeling like you're about to die. Ugh... 'Only took you about ten minutes.'

It's... not that bad. All of this feels surprisingly natural. After a minute or two, I sort of got used to it...?

...yeah I'm not convincing myself of that one. Bygones.

"FfffUCK that stings..." DC's given me a nice list of damage. Some of it is treatable, like this piece of shrapnel I'm yanking out of my side OW OW OW-

...I want to kiss the person who invented painkillers, so much. In... any case, there's also mostly irrepairable damage like the chunk of my side that's gone.

It's shredded the VLS, decoy launchers, and 40mm autocannon block along my left side, seems to be the worst by far. A few waterline hits, mostly patched or controlled by compartments are the runners up...

Oh, so that's why I feel kinda woozy. One of the engines are out. Natch. Or maybe that's the bloodloss?

'Various... injuries? What?'

I glance to the actual, literal, ghost sitting on my shoulder. She shrugs.

Some assorted fragmentation damage, some electronics are inoperational, and the drone bay launch doors are temporarily jammed.

I thank the... ghost woman sailor? She jogs back into me oh god that feels weird, disappearing through my shoulder, and for a brief moment I feel the swarming, twisting movements of something.

'...What?'

I hold up my new hands again, and carefully examine them. Something isn't right here. Rolling up my sleeves, I clench and unclench my hands, tapping at either forearm with the other hand.

All of a sudden, I see it.

There is not the smooth bulge of muscle, but rather a dozen smaller coiling things, gently moving beneath my skin, contracting and flexing with every movement, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking for it.

What the hell...? 'Seer guide me...!'

I... I think there've been some experiments with synthetic muscle in the Army, but nothing like this!

Incredible...

Right, priorities. Damage assessment. 'C'mon Rampart, don't sink while you're busy staring at yourself.'

What would have caused this?

"...This couldn't have been a missile strike, and this definitely wouldn't have been a gun round... Maybe a railgun, but why aren't I at the bottom of the sea from having AShMs shoved up my ass if I was in railgun range?"

I pat myself down, wincing as additional damage reports stream in just from a small check. Sort of clinging onto the edge of life right now, aren't I?

Silent running, then. 'RADAR to passive, SONAR to passive, and SDM-122s on standby.'

...

Wait I just do... things independently? I...

Right, back to the task at hand. 'Come on Rampart, focus!'

Damage repairs, contact friendly- Okay, do not pass go, then.

No SATCOM?

No, no satellites!

Th-this is impossible! I can't find a single satellite that's broadcasting even a basic GFN code!

'Oh, this is what hyperventilating feels like...' I-I think I'm going to need a moment.

Fuck...

W-what do I do?! Julianne...

'No captain, no support, no satellites, not even GPS! What the hell do I do?!'

Okay. I...

What would my captain do?

...

I should try... I should try and salvage the situation. Right.

By the book. Friendly forces, just... pick a direction, and hope I don't get painted by a Sovereign class battlecruiser or something.

===


Wake Island is burning. One of the two carriers are at the bottom of the ocean.

The other, alongside all the men and women we could save from the burning remains of the base, is being towed away, crippled, the shattered remains of the Wake Island Garrison forming her escort.

The only survivors were the cruisers, a single battleship, a carrier with her spine almost shattered, and myself. Chicago's the only heavy cruiser left out of all of them, and really, only by luck.

Amidst all this, there is... one thing, that I somewhat fear above all else.

Iowa, head ship of her class, bubbly, enthusiastic, bombastic Iowa... She looks listless. Haunted. Every so often I find her quietly letting a few tears out, putting clean streaks in the soot peppering her face.

...

I suppose I should feel something. Anything. I'd... Like to...?

'...there isn't enough time, is there? I... I have a fleet to tend to. Yes. Duty... Duty calls.'

"Akashi? Hey, we're going to be alright, yeah?" Chicago gives me a rakish grin that looks more frightened than anything.

Poor girl. She'd come back only a few weeks ago in Wake Island's summoning bay. Wide eyed and always with a grin.

'She played with the destroyers a lot...'

Something hot hits my lip and only then do I realize I'm crying. Clamping down on it, I meet her gaze.

"Yeah. Yeah we're going to be alright, and more than that-" Iowa shushes me, as she perks up, glancing around.

"RADAR contact." Her eyes narrow and her secondaries flick up.

"Direction 171, range 16,245 meters. Unknown airborne track. No. Abyssal."

===


So, equipment remaining! 120mm ammunition appears to be the only thing left in good supply, with my front VLS racks only holding 9 in the strike length and completely empty on the defensive. The lefthand defensive has three shots left, the rear strike length has the most, at 55 shots.

My air complement seems more or less unharmed, so I have ISR at the very least, but not the early warning of an actual CVBG.

'I'd say it could be worse but I really don't wanna Murphy myself right now.'

I turn around to glance at the horizon and wince again. 'C'mon Rampart, count yourself lucky the missiles there didn't explode or somethin. Nnh...'

At the current state of affairs, I can just about manage 12 knots, assuming everything holds.

...12 knots. Out of my standard 40.

Okay. Maneuverability and speed of an iron tub.

Fine.

"It isn't like you can dodge a missile by just going fast anyways..."

Next order of business... Pick a direction.

"..." Maybe I'll just keep going on... Bearing 282.

Yeah. Gotta be someone out there.

===


AN: update soonish.
Whereas most of these stories could be represented by Ride of the Valkyries or other triumphant songs, I think that Newspaper Spoons would suit this one.

EDIT: BETTERIFIED VERSION GO WHEE

edit 2: literally a full rework lmao
also will be posting on Royal Road under Installation 514 Koishi Bias i guess

edit: less cringe in sections. formatting fix.

edit 4: you ever just massively modify your crossposted version? yeah i love trying to fix all the horrible errors past self made. favorite pastime.

 

[Skynet PR]

I think I get why people wear aviators now. Julianne never approved, but I think I look very sharp in my...

...hybridized outfit? It's the deep blues and greens of the dress uniform, combined with combat webbing and armor of an Armsieur, and then I have my Captain's rank pins. Not just any, hers specifically because they're really REALLY beat up.

"...you glorious, glorious cheapskate."

I keep sailing, looking off into the sunset, covered in ship parts, no longer slowly bleeding out from having a chunk of my thigh missing. As, uh, one does.

===


Fleet of Wrecks | Damage Control 1.1

===

"Can we outrun them?"

Iowa snorted. "Hah! Maybe if we hadn't all been shredded in that last fight... With a twenty knot top speed... that recon plane is gonna get back to the carrier and there's gonna be a strike comin down on our heads reaaaal quick."

"...Fighting isn't an option. Not like this." Iowa nods, still looking out at the contact.

"Yeah. Which is why... I'm gonna cut the knot." What? Cut the knot?

Apparently sensing my confusion, the battleship explains. "So basically, in ancient mythology, there was this reaaaaally big knot, all tangled, covered with dirt, basically impossible to undo. King of the city it was in said whoever managed to get it open would become the new king. Anyways, a dude came along and instead of untangling it, just cut it."

"...so, simplifying the problem with an alternative solution?" Iowa nods, and begins steaming away, making a turn southward.

"I'm gonna be bait. You and yours get along now will ya? Fix up my lil sisters and yours too."

"No! What the hell are you thinking?!" I go to rush after her, but despite the 5 something times less tonnage I have on her, she's almost twice as fast as I am!

The battleship glances back, a bit of the old fire in her eyes. Briefly, I see the glint of her stars, as the veteran battleship raises a fist. "Listen! They don't have the resources to keep me up anymore! It's all on the carriers, you and I both know that! If we get swarmed, Hornet over there'd save ya better than I ever could! So I'll make this difference where I can!"

"...no..." Both of us stop, looking back to the battered carrier being towed by several cruisers. One trembling arm reaches out.

"don't... Go." The arm wavers, and falls back down. Iowa grimaces.

"...Hornet, I'm sorry. I really am. But... Even when I was built, the days of the big heavy gun juggernaut were endin. They had three ships o' the battle line back at Wake and all of em are scrap except me even with the anti air fire they pumped out. You had a few minutes and I saw your planes bust twice as many at least!"

The battleship gives a proud smile.

"You're the future, kiddo! So, I'm gonna pass the torch I guess. Besides. 's the older siblin's job to keep you all safe, isn't it?"

The smile turns a bit sad, before she turns back around, continuing her course.

There's a moment, before over the radio, she starts broadcasting the familiar bars of Over There, humming along...

"...that the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming..."

She doesn't stop, even as dusk turns to night and we continued our course, her song growing ever fainter.
===

Ping! Hmm? Passive RADAR contact, heading 44. That's... Scarily close range. About... 125km?

...is it a submarine? No, can't be, it'd have heard me by now. But... If it hasn't seen me yet, turning on my RADAR...

...

Here goes nothing then. Hopefully I'm not about to get turned to a wreck...

I clear my throat, and key the com. "Now hear this, now hear this. Set condition Xerxes across the ship, all hands to ready positions."

Perfectly said, and all in order.

...If the Captain wasn't gone and the crew wasn't naught but actual literal ghosts... And, y'know, if I wasn't already at Zebra.

'Now's not the time.' Back to work Rampart! You're not done yet!

I brace, missiles armed, and with a thought-

Active RADAR paints a very interesting picture. "Oh fuck me..."

I have sensor tracks on a half dozen warships, all capitals, judging by the monstrous signatures, and what looks like most of an air force. There's one capital ship apparently leaving one of them, and they seem to be in two distinct groups. Also up in the sky is dozens of planes, all heading towards the lone capital.

'Decision time. None of them are emitting and nobody's firing at me even with active RADAR. It... looks like a combat operation. But who...?'

Skimming the airwaves, I see about listening in. Music, radio stations, everything goes into the battle computer databank. Never know what freq might come in handy-

"-Damnit I know that! I even told it to her face! She blew me off!" Female, younger. Upset. Wait, that accent...!

"And she still fucking left! You-you...!" That... that's a Graznian accent. Fuck, these... These are old Graznian Navy codes!

...I-I need to be sure.

"Flight crew, prep and launch one scout drone for positive identification operation, over.
===

It takes awhile for the drone to get out there. The dusky sky's gone to night.

In that time, a bomber run has gone over the lone capital, but it hasn't sunk yet.

...the shape on the lightamp looks familiar. The colors are somewhat washed out and the quality is grainy at this range, but...

"...Torol?!" I-what?! That ship was decommissioned decades ago! What the hell is it doing?! It's been sent back to its Second War setup too!

Shit. If anything, that confirms it. Graznian Navy, enemy forces unknown.

Not enough missiles to kill all the planes, but the approaching force of capital ships...

That, I think I can do something about.

'...Seer guide me, I'm actually going to do this. Damnit.'

"Now hear this, now hear this. Action stations, action stations. Set material condition Zebra across the ship, damage control teams report to central. Missiles standby for antiship operation."

With a thought, eight cells click open, revealing their payload of Extended Range Anti Surface Missiles. Hopefully, this is enough.

'Sixteen shots left. No, make that fifteen, one of them's been shot away. Damnit. Fucking shrapnel damage...' I inhale, exhale, and pull the trigger.

Ten pillars of fire scream into the sky.
===

I still wonder why everything turned out like this. I've been around for a while, hell I was right behind Yamato when we first got called back in! Heh...

Good memories, I guess. Shit, we thought we were invincible in the early days. All heavy cruisers, battlecruisers sometimes... nothin much to it.

'...I hope she's still around. Last I heard she'd pulled back to the Tokyo lines, and then the Abyssals blew the sats and we lost comms. Hope she's doin better than I am...'

The DC fairies call in, one last time. Crew's ready, if a bit scared. Flooding's controlled, the citadel's not penetrated, and secondaries are loaded with what ammo's left.

"...Gettin my ticket punched, huh? Took you bastards long nuff." The I wiped at my eyes, glaring into the black specks. The two remaining Mk 7 guns slewed to bear.

"FIRE!" The thunder of my RADAR guided guns rippled across the waters, three-gun 16 inchers sending six Mk 8 superheavy AP shells soaring across the range.

Even with the RADAR battered by almost a week of continuous combat action, I'm still just as good as ever! One of the leading battleships gets hit by a solid bracket and she explodes, definitely magazines.

"Helluva way to go buddy." My crew begin their work, safety disregarded for the sake of getting those rounds up just a little bit quicker, bless them. They'd slow soon, but for now even one more salvo might help.

Shells begin to land all around me, throwing up gouts of water as they missed or shatter against citadel armor.

Flak shells load and anti air fairies stand to. Not long now. 'Wisconson, I'll see ya soon...'

THOOM-THOOM! Another salvo goes downrange from my Mk 7s, smashing apart the armor of another battleship and stopping her in her tracks, her engineering spaces quickly filling.

"One more down. C'mon boys, let's get ourselves a few more!" I hear a ragged cheer from my crew over the thunder of another bracketing strike punching some more holes into my bow and stern, shells glancing away from my citadel.

Fuck, that's starting to hurt!

As I glance at the water for torpedoes, I catch a glimpse of myself in the shell-whipped seas. Biiiit of a hot mess. All wounds and red stains, nearly naked and with smoke billowing from a turret.

Another shell screaming past my head pulls my attention back up. "One wound is nothing! I'm still here! Go fuck yourselves!"

I loose another flak salvo, Bofors and some eager Oerlikon gunners joining the fray. They just keep coming!

It's like stopping rain with a knife. They're coming from all sides, and I'm starting to wonder if I even have enough goddamn ammo to shoot at all of them. Some of the crew who aren't doing anything else are actually just shootin at the fuckers with their rifles and pistols, I think someone has a twelve gauge!

Here come the bombs again. I close my eyes to avoid the flash-

KRAKOOM! KRACKOOM! Spang-BLAM! THOOM!

"UNGH! Haaah..."

The bombs do their work, carving away decking and steel, exposing muscle and bone to the elements. Saltwater spray sends shocks of pain through my body, but I have lived.

My RADAR's torn to smithereens, but my Rangekeeper doesn't just rely on that. A slide rule will do fine!

THOOM THOOM THOOM! I aim and fire my last Mark 7, firing one shot per target. Might as well try for crippling now, rather than kills...

One battleship loses a turret, another suffering a hole at the waterline. Without my RADAR though, I do miss one.

That was that then. The black smoke of a broadsiding battleline puffed gently in the distance. I brace for impact-

"...What the sam hell is that?!" I see a bright streak in the distance, rapidly approaching, no several bright streaks, before it looks like the Abyssal battle line evaporates.

A dozen ships just stop being there, massive explosions as...

My memory comes in for me. I've seen those before, the Iraqis.

Those were missiles.

...someone new is looking out for us? I key the radio. Open transmission, no encoding. "...this is the Iowa, to whoever it might concern. Take care of em for-"

SPANG-BLAM-BONG-SPAK-SPANG-TAK

I feel my legs give out under me, engines dying. My vision begins to darken.

Even the best armor in the world has a limit. Guess being pounded by a dozen Abyssals gets ya there. I don't have to look down, I know it's bad. Probably got a big ol hole riiight around my bellybutton. Something hot runs down my stomach and legs...

But... One last message. I order the radio team to boost the gain, as much as it'll take. "This is the USS Iowa, to... Jane Doe. I say again... Take care of them... won't you?"

I see another wave of bombers on the horizon, the mounts that aren't ruined now coming into action again, black angry puffs appearing on the horizon.

'It's not gonna matter anyways... But hell, we sure did give em a fight.' The sea rushes up to greet me.


END 1.2
AN: I need to refine Iowa's voice but I almost los tthis in editing. Oh well.
also, comment pls. I can;t keep up this charade without them.
i think i gave her a good ending.

EDIT! Now is more consistent, engagement happens over the course of an hour or so.

edit 2: additional early refinements but i absolutely need to touch this one again later. especially Iowa's scene.

 

[Skynet PR]

cleaned up and betterified now

AN: I realize there's a plothole in the preferring chapter. I'll fix it accordingly
===

"...take care of them, won't you?" The transmission ends.

All I can do is watch my RADAR readouts, as I see a flight of planes drop bombs...

They head towards the old battleship, and there's an explosion on the horizon shortly thereafter.

"...alright, Torol. I'll take it from here."

'Still pretty beat up, so even half ahead is starting to push it, but I think I should be able to one quarters.'

"Gently does it..." I wince as several hull patches complain under stress, but hold even as I push to 12kt.

Shadow the Graznian junkyard fleet, power to the transmitter. Here we go.

"...Honor, Pride, Victory. You got this Rampart." I steady my voice, and touch the comm stud.

===


Fleet Of Wrecks | Damage Control 1.2

===


"Thanks, Akashi. Dunno what I'd have done without you." Isuzu nods her thanks as my damage control teams come back, the fire extinguished.

'There's still so much to do...' Next on the list then... Tenryuu.

"...fucking great. Wake Island too?! What the fuck is command doing?" Tenryuu weakly curses from Chicago's arms, as I approach to tend to her wounds.

'I don't blame her. We lost so, so many... I'll be damned if I let her join them though!'

"Brace yourself, this is going to sting." Tenryuu nods and I pull away a ruined mass of metal that used to be a bit of superstructure.

"Hhng! Hah... Thanks, Aki." She shoots me a weak grin, and I can't help but smile back.

'Still a destroyer at heart, I think. We're gonna need those smiles of yours...'

"Even now you're still you, huh?" I tousle the light cruiser's hair and she makes a grumbly noise, face reddening.

Someone's transmitting in the open? I turn, squinting behind us. Its Iowa...!

"...take care of 'em for-" An earpiercing scream of interference almost makes me miss the repeat, coming through much clearer this time.

"...USS Iowa, to... Jane Doe. I say again..." I hear Hornet perk up behind me, and a couple of the cruisers try to calm her down.

"Take care of them... Won't you?" The radio continues for a few moments more and I catch the brief, unmistakable sound of bombs falling.

It cuts out. Hornet turns away, and begins to gently sob. That... That's that, then.

A few moments pass of somber quiet, as some of the fleet glance at each other.

Somewhere in my head, a vicious little voice tells me that this is my sin.

"GNV Rampart, DDG-144 reporting in. Orders confirmed... Walk with the Sight, Torol. Graznian Battlegroup, I'll be with you shortly..." My head flicks up. What? A DDG?

"...I just have to take care of an enemy carrier first."

Are they insane?! Almost all of the United States' navy was sunk in a week in conventional engagements before we first got summoned!

"GNV Rampart, break off, I say again, break off!"

...no response. They're sailing to their deaths.

Fuck.

"Akashi, what should we do?" I turn, and find Isuzu looking at me, then the horizon.

"Only thing we can do. Keep going. We can't do a damn thing about some idiots ramming cannon fodder into Abyssal lines, not in this state."

The cruiser is hesitant for a moment, before she nods. "Hai."

===


There's a carrier out there, and its escorts. Let's give them a problem.

'What to do, what to do...?' I... Shit. Do I conserve my ERASMs or do I save the SMM-42s for something else? An SMM-42 is four to a cell and I've got 44 left, but they're not nearly as good at killing capitals.

They're all purpose, not dedicated strike too, so they might come in handy in the future.

'...or... Maybe I just need to bring the carrier out of the fight.'

One ERASM to the deck should cover it, now that I think about it. Second War air defences aren't an issue... Target locked. Solution installed. "Missile away."

A pillar of metal kicks out of a cell, missile roaring into the heavens.

===


The Wo class frowned. They'd slain another of the hated enemy's battleships, but the same had apparently chewed through an entire battle line and most of her air wing.

Such a hassle. All that, for one battleship? The Princess would... Would be Disappointed...!

The ones the battleship had screened had gotten away, but they'd be back. She could just slowly chase them into a trap.

'By the way they're sailing, they're going to-'

She saw something, a dark shape, a blur, coming down from above. And then her deck detonated.

By chance, one door was left open. The inferno struck the magazine and in that moment she ceased to be.

===


'...oh wow. I, uh... okay. ' I pull up my aviators, and squint at the fireball on the horizon.

Damn, that's almost a second sun! Jeez. Okay. I... Wow. I'm just going to get going now.

"Damage control, status?" Reports are promising. Some connections have been reset and they've hardened the hull patches, pumped the flooding.

A shiver goes up my spine as the formerly knocked out engines comes back up, even partly. A... fuck, I dunno how to describe other than vitality surges up my body from the base of my spine.

I set my drone to leaping SONAR and go to a comfortable cruise of 19 knots, unable to help a little bit of cheer.

'I did it!' Keying the mic, I report in.

===


I see a small flash on the horizon. That's... That, then. Another fucking senseless death-

"This is the GNV Rampart. Strike complete. We still on?" What.

How...?

...no way they could've... Unless...

'Could this be some modern destroyer, summoned once more somehow?'

"This is Akashi..." I pause, thinking...

"...Interrogative. What do you... Oh. Linking up." Right, that. Alright, carefully does it Akashi.

Excuses...

I glance over to Hornet... She's not holding up well. Flooding's getting worse, and I don't think she'll last more than a day at this rate.

"...negative, Rampart. We have casualties and damage throughout the fleet. We're making best speed for Midway Naval Center."

"Affirmative, Akashi. I'll shadow your current course. Rampart over and out."

Here goes nothing.

===


Hopefully, this works out.

'Boy, you really do like playing with fire doncha?'

For all I know I'm about to walk into a trap. Maybe I was wrong to trust my drone and database, maybe I should've launched at these folks instead.

Maybe I should've just stayed quiet and let them die.

'Maybe.'

After all, there isn't any such thing as 'Midway Naval Center'. So what exactly is going on?

'Rampant worrying won't do me much good. Quick, think of something else!'

...uh.

'Nothin! Natch.' No thoughts, head empty.

...something on RADAR? Please?

'Nope. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Well, except for the enemy escorts over there, and they're running.' Just gotta settle in for the cruise with RADAR up and worry I guess.

Fuck.

=== Warships Do Their Best And Are Now Preparing, Please Wait Warmly... ===


"Chicago-san, watch your head!" I duck under the low doorframe just in time, sending a thankful look at Natori, who gives me a nod.

Eventually, we come to a halt,

There wasn't much to do but wait. When we'd arrived, a stretcher team crewed by various medical personnel kanmusu and human alike had rushed Hornet off.

Tenryuu was left to Akashi, alongside the rest of us, and so once we were all cleared and signed in, we filed off to the yard.

...well, I say yard, which probably puts images of a big open air affair up to mind.

Instead, it was this large well lit underground atrium, with a dozen doors around it like spokes in a bike wheel. Those lead into their own little rooms with three offshoots of their own.

The bay we were directed to wasn't that promising. A few smaller pools, only a few even filed with the light green liquid of a repair bath, and various scattered boxes of tools and spare parts.

Some blood in one corner makes it juuust that little bit ominous.

The fleet tender clapped her hands, gesturing to the two full pools. "Alright, Tenryuu first, then you Chicago."

Wait, me? "Hang on a second, the others are all hit worse-"

The frowns at me.

"How many fires?" W-well, that's different...!

She came closer, an accusing finger jabbing at my body. "These are deck hits from bombs, and you've got a few shell holes you're not telling me about aren't you?"

"Ow! Okay, okay, I'm a little worse for-" The brown haired ship grabs my face and brings me in until we're nose to nose.

"Listen. Here. You fucking stupid. American! I just lost almost everyone I cared about! I'm not going to have you die from something stupid because we didn't have the time for repairs!"

...oh. "O-okay, but aren't you taking this-"

One hand comes around to the back of my head and suddenly a set of lips are on mine?! "AHMH?!"

'W-wait, what-why?! What-'

Akashi pulls back, face red and angry. "Are all you Americans so infuriatingly willing to die?!"

Right. I should... I should say something. Uhm. Uhm. Uh...

Wow, Akashi's eyes are a neat golden color... Uh. Right! Words!

"Yess'm, getting in the bath now."

The repair ship's expression softens, and she seems to subside. "Good. The rest of you, come with me. I'll see about what I can do myself."

The others file out, one of them giving me a grin and finger guns before closing the door behind her. I'm almost sure that was one of the French cruisers, oh god almighty I'm not living this down am I?

The faint burble of the room keeps us company for a bit.

"...so you two fuckin or what?" I turn and spot a grinning one eyed light cruiser, looking at me expectantly.

Oh no... Tenryuu, why...?

===


END 1.2
Some brightness.

I had a nice clean version but fucking internet ate it. Update edit shortly.

Edit: DONE!
also I fixed the other chapters up recently. Go reread if you want.

EDIT 2: epic edit pass 2.0.

Spoiler: hey look a missile inventory device!

64 Strike length full
3 Defense length full
[] Shipboard Multipurpose Missile-42: x44 in 11 cells. x44 remaining.
[] [] Broadly analogous to the descendant of an SM-6 with an enhanced payload and avionics package.

[] Extended Range Anti Ship Missile Shipborne Surface Missile-23 x16 in 8 cells, 1 of which inoperable. x5 remaining.
[] [] Stealthy penaid spamming seaskimmer. Optimized for capital busting or oneshotting anything less.

[] Shipboard Underwater Missile-17 x4 in 2 cells. x4 remaining.
[] [] Essentially an ASROC.

[] Shipboard Ground Missile-14 x0 in 0 cells. x0 remaining.
[] [] a land/sea attack weapon with rapid programming and multivariable warhead. Deploys a salvo of penetration aids upon detection of enemy RADAR.

 

[Not_Interesting]

This is great, really looking forward to more. I do wonder how will Rampart take that she is not in her world and Graznia does not exist, only a local analogue. Shipgirls are very much driven by Patriotism and a Sense of Duty most of the time, it will be interesting to see how you´ll tackle removing that main motivation. Will she turn Mercenary? Spiral into depression? Join the UN as the sole piece of Graznian Territory and the defacto Commander in Chief of all Graznian forces?

 

[Gehoji]

The third post isn't threadmarked.

 

[Skynet PR]

The third post isn't threadmarked.

Click to shrink...

Fuck. Fixing.
anyways, here's all the rest of them. featuring shitposting of a questionable caliber and other stuff. also clipped the bad infoshot that was in the other edition...

===


"So. Shiplets, Chicago?" The light cruiser adopts an almost grandmotherly knowing look.

"I-no, we're both-what?!" I can *feel* my face heating up. Goddammit.

"Well when two ships love each other very much-" I throw a wet towel at her.

Smack!

"Shut the fuck up, you lewd woman." I submerge a little into the water until only my chin sits above it, giving the toweled light cruiser a glare.

"Heh heh heh~!" The cruiser reclined in the bath, a shiteating grin on her face, and I consider putting a 5in HE round into her chest for just a second.

Her belt armor should take it, and we're in the repair bays anyhow...

... Seriously though...

What am I going to do? Hell, where the fuck is this all even going?

Only God knows I guess. Just hope command's got a good plan and...

I sit a little lower into the water, letting my head and body lay back on the pool surface.

"...damn fine girl though," I murmur.

...

'Wait, I said that out loud.'

...oh I can FEEL Tenryuu grinning at me please no-

===


Fleet Of Wrecks | Port Of Call

===


"...uhh, you sure?" The harbormaster looks at me skeptically.

I give him my best pleading look, and he glances away, grimacing. "Ugh, fine Akashi. Stop that, it's creepy..."
"Ow, my feelings."

He sighs, producing a clipboard and pen. "Just sign this... I'll warn you, it'll be your head if this goes south."

I shake my head as I scribble it down. and give him a tired, thankful look. "If I was sure about this I'd not have arranged for the armed guard..."

"...the what now?" He gives me a Look.

I point the eraser at him. "Ambush of cruisers. If it goes south that thing's going to be shredded."

"...uhuh. Well, try not to have a subcapital gunfight in my harbour."

"No promises."

"You are very lucky I trust you this much, you know? Also, when is she arriving, again?"

"A few days."

===


I come into what should be missile range for this place, an AWACS plane quietly shadowing me

Quietly, but not quiet enough at any rate.

No missile launches, or torpedo screamers, nothing. Just a busy harbour.

"Attention Midway Naval Center Harbour Control, this is the Graznian Naval Vessel Rampart, hullcode DDG-144, name is spelled as follows. Romeo, Alpha..."

And so it went.

It takes the better part of two hours, but eventually, I come into the 'Kanmusu' bay and find a... Greeting, party?

There's one woman standing in front of several others, while two soldiers with rifles guard the doors.

Also, five or six cruisers trying to be stealthy, but I can see them pretty much instantly.

Someone's whispers catch my radio. "...destroyer my ass. That's a cruiser!"

"Shush. Don't make her mad. Hey, wait, you see that gash in her side?"

Ah, right, didn't tonnages go up for various classes after the wars? I'm around 10,250 tons loaded and 180 meters long, so... Hmm.

'Damnit, I really liked having an internet connection. Still, If I remember right, I'm a good bit heavier and longer than a lot of cruisers were back then?'

"GNV Rampart, reporting in, as ordered." I give a tired salute, hopefully suppressing the wince at its sloppiness.

"Welcome to Midway Naval Center, Rampart." The Eastern woman holds out a hand and gives me a friendly look.

...that voice... "Akashi, I presume?"

"Hmm. A good guess." Her eyebrows briefly twitch upwards, before settling.

I shake her hand, even as I spy several of her gun turrets quietly tracking, dormant for now. "Thank you for having me."

Akashi looks contemplative for a moment, before turning around.

"Come with me, please." With that, she begins walking off.

...y'know, I don't need to turn around to know that there's several stares on my back. I-I'm not scared of attention but it does put a little hurry into my step.

I... Oh. I can't catch up... "Hey, wait a sec!"

"Hmm?" She turns around, looking surprised.

"I'm still below half my maximum speed... Battle damage." I give her an apologetic look and she takes a second look at me, softening a little.

"...alright then. Here, I'll give you a tow." Gently, she puts my arm over her shoulder.

"Thanks. Sorry about this..." In response, a bittersweet smile flashes across her face. Why?

"It's fine. I'll take you to the repair bay, you'll be good as new. Better than new, even. You might have to wait for a bit though, I think Tenryuu and Chicago are still in there."

"... don't you mean yard?"

===


"...eh?" O-oh. Uhm.

I'd opened a locker room door and I... Don't what I expected to be entirely honest. I guess I thought it'd be empty?

It's rows of light blue lockers in a tile room with some dome lights and mirrors, currently also containing one eyepatched woman minus most of her clothes.

'Alright, settle down Rampart. You've seen this before, hell you are one now. How's a naked boat going to make you blush?'

'But... but...!'

'Oh for the love of- stop staring! Come on, are you some virgin 18 year old sailor on their first time seeing a pinup or something!?'

"...? Yoo-hoo, you there? Something happen?" A hand waves in front of my face.

"Holy-WOAH!" THUDTHUD!

"Ow..." Oh that fucking hurts, what hit me...?

I... I guess I slipped? No, I overbalanced and... fell over. Kicked something too... But what the hell hit my forehead?

I open my eyes to the ceiling , suppressing a curse as reports of a broken hull patch come in, but otherwise little damage.

'Great first impression, just bravo, well done. Did you really have to stare?' Seer have mercy...

"Well aren't you forward? Damn, you Americans don't play around do ya?" What?

I glance down, and find a one eyed woman with weird ear things lying on top of me, rubbing at her head.

Noticing my gaze, she gives a wave. "Eyy. So, my place or yours?"

'Oh this just ain't fair...!' I try to repress the flush, hastily scrambling to get back up and on my feet.

Whoever this is stands up, brushing herself off. "So, I was thinking, right? We should at least know each other's names, buy each other a few drinks..."

I put my hands up in front of my chest. "I-I'm just here for the repair bay, I'm sorry about all... That."

She grins at me again. "No reason why we can't do both at once."

'No, stoppit, don't look at her, just find an empty locker.'

Sitting down in front of it, I glance down at my side and give it a hard look.

Right... This is going to hurt isn't it? Hopefully not too much has been caught in the wound...

I unbuckle the armor and then start working on my uniform's coat, bracing as I tug the parts over my left side away.

'It stings a little, but that's not as bad as I was expecting! Nice.'

Now for my undershirt... "Hey. Really. What's your name? If you're uncomfortable with that bit and hate me now, I can fuck off, but us cruisers really do gotta stick together nowadays."

Eh? I turn, and find the woman, now dressed in a shirt and pants leaning against the locker block. Her... Ear... Horn? Head thingies have turned back a bit.

'It's kinda like looking at a scolded dog...'

Her eyes flicker down to my side, and she gives me an inquisitive look.

"...oh. That. I woke up like this." At that she raises an eyebrow.

"Seriously? The hell happened?" The... Cruiser? sits down on the bench.

"I don't know. It's no missile or shell hit, maybe a railgun, but... The angle's strange. Too flat." I test it, and a hiss jumps from my mouth as something tears.

"Hshgh!"

Hands take my shoulder and arm. "Shit, hang on, don't. Listen, you can keep your shirt on in the bay, nobody's gonna stop you. It'll be easier afterwards, trust me."

"...what?"

"It's weird spiritual glowy water shit, it'll heal the damage and kick out the stuff like your shirt, means you can do any remaining DC easier." I give her a Look. Excuse my Tarin, but what the fuck?

"...'dunno how it works, go ask Akashi if ya really wanna know." She shrugs.

"...Maybe, yeah. I... What's your name, actually?"

She grins. "Tenryuu, one of only two in the world! Light cruiser, and destroyer leader!"

"Huh. Rampart. Guided missile destroyer, I guess I'll be seeing you more.... Often?" Her face falls.

"... something wrong?"

Her head tilts and she crosses her arms, looking at me like I've sprouted a mast or something. "...no way. You're taller than I am! Hell you're bigger than me in every way! No way you're a destroyer!"

"Tonnage went up, I don't know what to tell you. For the record, you're not the first. Some people at the dock thought I was a cruiser or the like too." I shrug.

"...well now that bit I did feels weird. I mean, destroyers are... Well, they're like kids, more or less. I took care of em, lead em around, stuff like that. But..."

She gestures to her side, then to me, and back out again, before a pained look crosses her face and she goes quiet for a while.

Then she blinks, and snaps back around.

"...hang on. Guided missile?"

"...yes? I... Get the impression I'm kind of unique?"

Suddenly, Tenryuu's eyes turn intense! "Have you gotten any hits with them?!"

"Y-yes, why-" I yelp as the cruiser grabs me by the shoulders, her eyes ablaze as she grins at me!

"Nobody's ever gotten a missile hit on Abyssals before! Ever! The missile boats' RADARs just can't see em through whatever they use to jam em with!"

'So that's why Akashi told me to break off...'

"...oh. I-Wow."

'That's... Kinda heavy!'

Tenryuu claps her hands and stands up suddenly. "Alright, I'm gonna get outta here. You get in that repair bay, I wanna see your rigging soon."

Pulling on her shoes, she dashed out.

To the empty room, I think out loud. "...isn't that a BDSM thing?"

===


END PORT OF CALL 2.0

edit: still not comfortable with the ending lines. I want to make it feel a little less forced, but hell maybe that just how it be.

 

[Skynet PR]

[] Minkau Limit: A term used to describe Project Minkau's discovery of the hard 1946 techbase limit & 1944 repair resource intensity spike.
Effectively, it is impossible to use alloys, technologies, etc, from beyond 1946. You can of course include special techniques of how the ships or other things are made, but it's finicky in this regard. For example, you could use modern stealth shaping for defeating RADAR, but you couldn't use RAM to coat the planes or ships in.
You could construct an electrically driven gatling gun using 1946 era electrics and alloys, but you couldn't just tape a GAU on and call it a day.

[] ships can be converted into boatpeople or kanmusu or whatever using rituals that usually differ somewhat based on the country of origin. yes, this does mean civil ships such as freighters. They usually take on the appearance of their crew, somewhat biased based on tonnage and type. Destroyers usually take on the forms of their youngest crew, 18 or so, Cruisers might be a bit older in their 20s, and so on so forth.
That said there are exceptions.
It's also possible to summon dudes.

[] After the USS Constitution incident, it is now heavily ill advised to have any kanmusu visit their own bodies, sunk or afloat. Especially sunk.
[] [] USS Constitution has canonically earned 1 kill against an Abyssal destroyer with a full broadside during the early days of the war.

[] it is completely possible for ships to return with mental disorders. while not common, there are some like most of the Russian Navy, who have more or less come back in a state that had most of them declared unfit for duty due to extreme stress and several cases of schizophrenia.
[] [] Under no circumstances are atomic bomb testing subjects to be summoned.

 

[Skynet PR]

Comfort and relaxation. For now.
===

Hooooly wow. This feels great.

'Akashi was NOT kidding about feeling better than new, I think I just got shit fixed that I didn't know needed fixing!'

'How long does this take anyways? There's no timer or anything, but it can't be too much longer, right? It's been an hour or so by now...?'

After a few more hours where I definitely didn't fall asleep, I wake up and request a DC report. The same ghost sailor floats out of a hatch again and informs me they've found more or less everything repaired, with only minor scratches here and there.

"Seriously? Even the coffee machine?" That damn thing hasn't worked right ever since 2062, that's fucking fantastic!

She nods enthusiastically and disappears back in eagerly.

"Thank the Seer for the small things, I suppose?" I haul myself out of the pool and make my way back to the locker, turning my internal heating up a little as the temperature difference hits.

'Time for the moment of truth.' I tug at my shirt experimentally, and there's a brief twinge before the thing just comes away cleanly!

It's a bit of a shame it didn't remove the bloodstains or the hole, or the blood and metal still clinging to it though. I'll have to fix that later.

Underneath is skin with a touch of scarring... And metallic flecks? '...Thaaaat's probably a thing that comes with being a boat person?'

Whatever. I'm in a good mood. The goodest of moods even! I just gotta get dressed!

And make some coffee. Standard Issue has to be something nice for all the praise on it. 'What even was Julianne's favored brew-oh nice, it's saved in here! Let's see...'

===

Fleet Of Wrecks — Port Of Call 2.1


===

I turn out the lights in DD Berth 3, the sound of quietly sleeping destroyers behind me. Putting the storybooks down gently on the countertop, I close the doors.

It's not the same, though-

'No, no, bad Tenryuu. Don't think like that.'

Shaking myself, I go to check back up on Rampart.

I think I know why I feel kinda like a stranger now. The halls 're a lot quieter than I remember. Used to be that you'd have groups of people walking around talking with each other, just shootin the breeze, and base folks carryin round files, supplies, the whatnot.

Now every so often I see a group of em luggin round a trolley of stuff, or a couple doctors and one of the repair ships, plus someone on a gurney.

Nobody talks or jokes, they just disappear round the corner.

Nobody's walkin round laughing, no more groups of destroyers running through the halls chased by someone...

"..."

'Fuck, I need someone to talk to, get this off a my chest or better yet forgettabout over a stiff dr-'

As if in response, there's a joyous whoop from around the corner, something shattering, and then someone explodes into view. A blur kicks off of one wall, kicks off the second and-

"UNGH!" Ow...Ffffuck that HURT. What hit me?!

"Who the- Rampart?" I open my eyes and find a grinning destroyer straddling me, eyes wide open.

"...Okay, so middle of the hallway wouldn't be my first choice but-" A finger on my lips interrupts me.

"That stuff fixed the coffee machine! Hahaha~!" She claps, doing a small cheer.

'...coffee? Wait don't tell me this is her on caffeine? Oh shit, destroyer on caffine destroyer on caffine!'

"Arright, let's not get too excited here, uh, maybe- Mmph!" She just- she just kissed me!

Drawing back, she wipes her mouth off with a sleeve, still with a maniac grin on her face. "See, I gotta make the best of this right? While I don't have all my marbles flat, I gotta do everything I couldn't otherwise!"

"I-what? Marbles flat?" What the fuck?

"Yeah! Lost your marbles, straight and narrow, put em together and you get flat marbles, which are sad and stupid just like the normal me! See, if the world's gonna end, I'm not gonna die alone, see?" She grins and nods like it makes perfect sense.

'...eh? Wait is she comin in for another ki-'

flump.

Her eyes close midlean, and she flops over on top of me, fast asleep.

I guess it wasn't a massive amount of coffee, since she ran outta steam in like, what, thirty seconds? Small blessins I guess.

"Mmmh..."

"Wha-hey, hands! Personal space!" Geez, even modern destroyers really just inherited the cuddler tendencies didn't they?!

"Mmm~" Rampart mutters something and she just clamps down tighter.

Goddamnit why's she so stupid strong?! It's like being wrapped up in a hug by one of the battleships!

'...'m not gonna say no though...'

===


"Wha...?"

'Who-who's there?' I push myself up, glancing around, RADAR sweeping. Nothing's on the scope. It's just an apparently infinite flat landscape of jack squat.

"...?" I bend down and brush at the floor. Perfectly smooth, like oiled glass.

Waiting for a while, my IFF reports in, and suddenly my vision is filled with flickering shapes, their colors flickering back and forth from blue to red and back again.

"Well that's unpleasant. Nnh... Goddamnit, someone turn that off!" On instinct I reach to my hip and find... the butt of a handgun?

On closer look, it's my cannon mounted to a pistol grip. A little readout gives me 26 rounds in the autoloader.

'Fucking weird but okay, cool, 120mm pistol. Double barreled, even-'

I hear a rustling in the distance. "Misplaced child..."

"Who's there? Identify yourself!" I don't see anything. Where's this transmission coming from?

'There!' I whirl around, gun coming up, before something reaches out of the dark and swats me into the air.

"Oof! Ungh! Ow..." I skip off the ground a few times and something goes snap inside, but otherwise I think I'm fine.

Y'know, with broken bones. Fine.

With a groan I pick myself up, looking towards where that came from...

"I-Identify yourself! Who-" A sigh settles out of everywhere at once, before someone seems to walk out of nowhere, iridescent.

It fixes me with a burning stare, and I find I can't look away from it's endless, flat gaze.

Its voice comes from everywhere, deafening and terrible. "Now, do you have your answer?"

Something like a chime rings, and the world shatters out from under us. I hang there for an infinity, locked into it's eyes. Something about this thing is...

Searching me.

No, ripping out everything inside me slowly, hollowing me out with a rusting battered trowel, and pulling it through my eyes.

A scream wells up in my throat, feeling like honey as it struggles to get out, before in these years of a moment the stranger finishes it's task and blinks.

===


I wake up to a grunt and someone muttering. "S-so, Rampart, you up yet? Gah..."

Opening my eyes, I find... "Tenryuu?"

"Oh, hey! Could-couldja let up? Gods above girl, you trying to crush me or something?" She gives me a weary yet gently amused look, hair mussed and one of her ear things askew.

'Wait was I just giving her a death grip all the way through that?' I hastily loosen up and break the embrace, pushing myself up with my arms.

"Oh! So sorry, I- wait, what happened?" Tenryuu blinks, and then claps her hands together, pointing them at me.

"Weeeell, mostly just hugging. Seriously wow where does all that engine output come from? But, also, I learned you're decent at kissing and shouldn't be trusted with coffee."

"...huh?" Mentally, I play back the video logs-

"Oh. I-I'm sorry, I-"

The cruiser shakes her head, giving me a grin.

"S'okay, just be more gentle next time?" A faux lilt enters her voice, as she gives me some surprisingly good puppy dog eyes. (Eye?) I fight back some minor reddening...

"...no, die. I might've been built in the age of weebs and internet but I will not have that here!" Tenryuu snickers and returns to her smile.

"Alright, so can you get off now? I think my legs are goin to sleep, and you're pretty darn heavy. Like, this is kinda hot n all but the hallway floor sucks."

"Oh, uh, give me your hand-" I stand up, pulling the cruiser to her feet. She brushes off her clothes and does a quick series of stretches, as she gives me a glance.

"Hey, what happened in there by the way?"

"What?"

Her grin fades a little. "Back when you were tryin to hug me to death, your face... Didja have a nightmare or somethin?"

"...Kinda. I mean, between the magic water and... This," gesturing across my body, "I... I don't know. Still trying to process... But it didn't feel like a nightmare."

Tenryuu gives me a pensive look, and turns around, looking down the hallway. "Hmm. C'mon, there's a lounge somewhere 'round here we can sit down for a while in."

"...Affirm."
===

AN:
Problems begin to show.

I don't approve of this chapter but I wanna put something half decent out. This need an edit pass probably soonest and I hate that.

edit:
hey look its only been like, a day lol

edit 2: more stylization quality, better improvement overall.

edit 3: slightly better, but the problem is I still suck at writing soooooo-

 

[Skynet PR]

Rest, reconciliation, and also hasty rewriting. This part is dragging itself out too much.
===

I wait for you. I watch for you. I think about you.

Do you think about me too?

You will be ready.


===


Fleet of Wrecks — Port of Call 2.2

===


"So, what happened?" Tenryuu's voice comes from my lap, as she lies back on my outstretched legs. Both of us are on a somewhat aged couch in the dimly lit lounge.

I... I was someplace empty. Kinda like one big piece of dark glass for a floor, and nothing else."

"Then after a while I got into... Well, I can't call it a fight."

"Oh?"

"I saw a blur and then got hit hard enough to send me flying. Got up, then... Then I saw it."

Tenryuu winces. "Saw what?"

"A person's silhouette, defined more by where it wasn't than where it was. Like if someone had punched a hole in the world."

When I don't hear a response, I continue. "It threw me across the ground and then... I-I I don't know. I couldn't look away. It stared into my eyes and..."

"It feels like it took something."

Tenryuu makes a worried noise. "That... I mean you sure you're not a real active dreamer, what with this bein your first time, uh, sleepin and all?"

"Maybe. I guess it's something I should keep a track on and only worry about if it keeps happening, but... Felt a little too realistic for my liking." I shrug.

"Hopefully, yeah. Guess you should ask Akashi 'bout the weird spiritual shit, due diligence or the whatnot."

"Yeah, I'll try and find her later then."

'It... Probably was just a nightmare.'

We sit in silence for a bit, before she shifts around a little. "Hey. Mind if I uh, talk about some shit on my mind too?"

I look down, finding a somber face staring up. "Go ahead. You did it for me, I do it for you, right?"

The cruiser gives me a thankful smile, before her eye unfocuses a little. "I used to have a lil group of destroyers followin me round everywhere."

Her eye gets a little misty, and a tear slowly forms at the corner. "I loved em like a sister, they loved me like one too. It felt good to lead em round, and I thought that'd be how it was until the day I sank. Then Red Wednesday happened, and suddenly the war turned 'round on us."

"...and your detachment didn't get off scot free?" Tenryuu shakes her head.

"About a week after Red Wednesday, Yokosuka ran a patrol in force. We-we stumbled into an Abyssal battle line, barely broke off."

"...how bad was it?"

"A fucking shitshow! They waited for us to get in good range, then popped from subsurface and hit us with a dozen capital ships. Destroyers backed em up, went through us like paper. I... I saw-I saw...!."

The cruiser chokes back a sob.

'...Okay, this is a good time for this. I think.' I gently pull her up into a hug, as she settles into my lap and onto my shoulder.

"I-I still remember, remember the feeling of a torpedo hitting and almost taking my stern off, felt..."

"I felt like I was gonna die, and I kinda wanted to. I-I..."

Gently, I try to find her words. It takes a few painful seconds of listening to her cry quietly. "...Couldn't stand the idea of living without them?"

She nods, and shuffles around until she faces me and can give me a proper hug.

"I-I try to do the same thing, every base I get to. Some of the destroyers got reassigned to other bases and told stories about me, so most of em know. But it's just not the same...!"

She squeezes on for dear life, raggedly sobbing as now the dam breaks.

I feel my shoulder slowly moisten, and... 'Well shit Rampart, now what?'

Gentle whispers filter into my head, of a hundred different comforts in mourning.

'...huh. Crew's actually got some decent suggestions.'

Taking some of the veterans' advice, I say nothing, and gently pat her on the back.

It takes some time, as Tenryuu cries and sniffles, shaking in my arms.

I wait for her to start tapering off, before gently bringing her to look at me. "...you feel better?"

"Y-yeah, thanks... F-fuck... Ahaha... Ca-can you get me to the cruiser racks?"

'..no, crew, we did not have a date, that's absolutely fucked, i- okay maybe but still. Psychologist-patient relations are banned aren't they?'

"Sure. Here, take my shoulder." She wraps one arm around my shoulder and slowly I help her out. Eventually she stops me in front of a door marked 'Room 425 Cruiser Barracks B'

"Thanks, man. I-I can handle it from here." Tenryuu gently perks up and pads through the entrance. Some quiet music drifts out.

"Goodnight, sir." I give her a nod, tamping down the urge to snap a salute, and walk to... 'Fuck, where do I go? '

'Admin building, admin building...' I flag down a passing janitor and commit the instructions to memory.

'Take a left here, a right here, find Room 482 and then...' It takes about an hour before I manage to come across the administrative building which is thankfully still open.

Quickly checking in with the secretary, who seems either bored out of his skull or dead tired, possibly both, I get told to report to the DDG barracks, 344.

It takes me about an hour to find the stupid thing, at which point it's 12:00 and I'm about to fall over in the ground right there and take a nap.

The door quietly creaks open, and I find... Nobody. It's empty.

Oh well.

Room furthest from the door, settle in, and... Try to sleep.

...for some reason I've got a tingle playing up and down my spine.

It says I should be on watch right now, that I should be sitting at Xerxes and waiting to get my ass kicked by OpFor.

"Ngh. Just lemme stand down and sleep...!"

The feeling refuses to go away.

Shuffling into a sitting position, I turn on some running lights and fish for Shipborne Operations Manual 3.2.

It's good to keep on task, but it's also good for falling asleep. Sometimes you even remember some of it later!

I vaguely remember page 172, before the rest is a jumbled mess.
===
A quiet chimebrings me gently upwards. "Mmh... What time izzit?"

'Alright, 6:42? i... I can work with that.' I get up, feeling the gentle chatter of sailors getting about to their posts and everything starting up.

Bringing out a disposable cup of coff- slice!

"GENERAL QUARTers wait. Hey!"

'Oh, that's Tenryuu. Wait why is she here?' The cruiser flicks her actual literal fucking katana to get the coffee off and sheathes it.

"No coffee."

"Excuse me what."

"Destroyers can't have coffee. Too hyper, they do weird shit."

"But-"

"No buts. Sorry, it's just how it is. Remember the hallway?" Tenryuu turns, pausing as she goes out the door.

"Oh, one more thing, I gotta confiscate your coffee. And coffee machine."

A well trained navy line walks out of my mouth. "I assure you sir, I have nothing of the sort."

"..." The cruiser turns back, walks over to me, siffs a finger over my cheek, then licks it.

I flinch back, giving her a look. "What the-"

"This ain't instant coffee."

Oh it's on. "I'm from the future."

"Still bullshit."

"I could hand you some coffee right now and make it outta instant."

"We both know it wouldn't be the same. Quit your lyin and just gimmie the damn thing."

I arch an eyebrow and with some monumental force of will, lock my face in place. "I'll destroy the coffee machine before I let you have it. Also I'll promise to not use it without permission and supply you with a cup every day."

She sharply inhales.

"You are a dirty, dirty woman, Rampart. Alright, fine. Just gimmie some instant and I'll hand it in."

"We have a deal. Here." I shuffle around my pockets and produce a generic name brand coffee powder crate.

She takes it, then holds out another hand. A moment passes before my still waking brain catches up and hands her a foamed cup.

She grins.

"Fit for a god." The cruiser gives me a grin and walks out happily.

Once again, I'm left in a room by myself, wondering what just happened as my brain catches up. 'That was.... Something.'
===

Cleaning myself and the bed up, mostly just sheets disposal among other things, and one exceptionally awkward conversation with the old German battleship at the laundry, I-

'Fuck did I accidentally distract Tenryuu from telling me important instructions?!'

WHERE DO I GO?!

Quickly asking around, I find out that I'm apparently supposed to report to the harbour.

Or the launch bay. Or possibly the repair bay??

'Maybe I should've just handcuffed myself to Tenryuu and gone along with her...'

The harbour is a dead no, I think. Lots of boats there and shipping, they wouldn't clean it out just for me. Probably.

Maybe whatever the launch bay is, though that sounds like a missile launcher battery than anything.

Repair bay... Probably comes second?

"..only one way to find out."
===


END 2.2

 

[Skynet PR]

AN: what the fuck is a beta reader?
===

"Akashi? Anyone home?" I knock on the door again. The woman at the bay was nice enough to tell me to go to the yard for general maintenance and fitness before coming to her, but it looks like she isn't home?

"B-be right there!" A flushed and disheveled repair ship opens the door partly, leaning out.

'Oh, okay, uh…' I fight to keep my face steady.

"You, uh, want me to… Come back later? I, uhm… I'm interrupting something, huh." Akashi goes more red.

"No! Well, kind of, no, I mean… Y-yeah. Yeah, uh… Please don't tell the cruisers I'll be teased for weeks!"

I hold up my hands. "Secret's safe with me."

The repair ship gives me a grateful smile and retreats back into her room, locking the door. I turn to leave-

"Ch-Chicago? What is that?"

"Consider it a... surprise." Right, that's my cue to pick up the pace!
===

Fleet Of Wrecks — Port Of Call 2.3


===


'So I've got some time to burn.'

…

'Nope not thinking like that.'

'If nothing else, then I definitely should go explore. Forty-five minutes or so should be enough for Akashi.' Also going to call it in with the launching bay. Just say she's attending to someone else and might be a while.

They'll buy it. Probably.
===

Thinking about heavy things is best done over breakfast. 'Can't be getting existential on an empty stomach, haha…'

'What am I even going to do? With limited ammo and no resupply unless the Seer drops a Graznian depot in my lap…' Suddenly the pancakes don't taste all that good…

I could try and see if the local missiles can be adapted-

The lights on the wall flash red and suddenly there's a blaring klaxon. The hall is suddenly thundering with the tramp of boots rushing out the door. "…NOW HEAR THIS, NOW HEAR THIS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ABYSSAL RAIDING FORCE EMERGENCE, THIRTY KILOMETERS, BEARING NORTH NORTH WEST 347. NOW HEAR THIS, NOW HEAR THIS…"

'…wait fuck me that's a combat alarm!' I hastily get up to go, rushing out the door and trying to find the crowd.

It's not hard, the majority of the women are running for the launch bay, some boat bits coming up here and there. 'They probably have a better name for those don't they? Boat bits sounds ridiculous.'

The door to the launch bay opens, and we're greeted with a rush of noise. "ALRIGHT FOLKS, TWO WAVES CAPITAL AND ONE WAVE AUXILIARY! FREQUENCY 121.5 TO 132.7, KEEP EXTRA CHATTER TO A MINIMUM, COME BACK ALIVE!"

Everyone's shifting around in a blob but all of a sudden it's like the sun rose on a foggy day and I'm left standing around as everyone else is in some sort of formation or another.

"Rampart! Psst! Over here!" I start, then turn around- Tenryuu!

Quickly I join the line, as she turns around with a smile to someone else in the line. "Yeah, just uh, showin one of the newbies the ropes. She's new yeah?"

The taller… Uh, Norezian? woman behind her gives me an odd look and steps back slightly. I slot into place.

"Alright so since you're new, you probably should get your riggin out before we actually get up to the front of the line. No performance jitters n stuff."

"…rigging?"

"…yeah, y'know, these." A gun turret shaped somewhat like a pistol pops in and out of existence in her hand.

"Oooh, the boat bits. Got it." Tenryuu snorts as I hold out my hand…

And nothing comes out.

'Anytime now!' No gun turret or missile launcher appears out of thin air.

"Okay, try and-" There's a loud BOOM from somewhere above, the launch bay gently trembling.

'The fuck was that?' People murmur, looking up with some concern, some talking into headsets or handsets.

Tenryuu spares it a glare, before looking back to me-

"AUXILIARY GROUP FOUR, READY UP!" Some names are called, and one of them is Tenryuu.

"Shit. Alright just keep tryin!" She hesitates and then rushes off to the launch station, along with several others, as I'm left there alone in a sea of noise and chatter.

'Fuck. Come on, woooork!

I stare at my hand, as I will as hard as I can for there to be even a faint shimmer of metal or something, ANYTHING-

Suddenly someone taps me on the shoulder. "Excuse me, miss?"

"Eh?" I look up, and see the Norezian woman from earlier giving me an inscrutable look.

"Listen, you've been staring at your hand for a minute or so. If you can't draw your rigging then please leave." I wince, and nod, trying to go as quietly as I can.

She catches my shoulder to whisper something before letting go. "There is no shame in not participating when you aren't ready."

There's some sympathetic murmurs as I go over to the wall and sit down, trying to be small.

'What the hell is wrong with me?'

'When I first came here I had my 'rigging' up just fine! So why-'

Another something impacts with a BOOM above us and I reflexively shoot to my feet, before I catch myself and relax against the wall. "Okay seriously what was that?"

'Damnit! I need my boat bits! I need my-'

"…RADAR?" Something shimmers in front of my face, before a dozen weights settle into place all over my body.

…I react to this gracefully and in no way fall over on my butt. Absolutely not.

"Okay so I just have to think about it really hard. Yip fuckin ee. Now, where do I go…?"

Learn by example? Monkey see monkey do right?

I take a look around. Now that I'm out of the crowd, I can properly see this place.

The launch bay's U-shaped, kind of like a carrier's well deck sized up a hundred times. There's rails leading out the massive garage door entrance that you step into and then squat down into for launch, with a crowd of people safely behind it.

Some quick repair bays and a triage center door to the side, and I think there's a retrieval bay there, like some sorta super large aircraft carrier.

The lines are getting shorter…

I join the shortest I can find, ignoring the stares and whispers.

When I get to the head of the line, the man is thankfully, understanding, and walks me through it. "Step onto the water, and do it confidently. You'll walk, don't worry. And remember to get your radio on."

I step forward, trying to ignore the voice in my head, before my boot meets… apparently solid ground. "There. Now, step between the lines, and crouch down, like you're skiing."

'Just like the Olympics.' I squat, and-

I see something on my passive RADAR, just for a moment. Then-

BOOM!

There's a crunching and then a cannon blast of a crack from the roof-it's falling in!
Fuck fuck-WHACK!
===

END 2.3