Kancolle: The Iron Dynasty
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
Pitstop
- Location
- 'Murica
The first leg of the trip took just over a week, and it was as uneventful as could be reasonably expected. The fleet picked up a shadow in the night after leaving port, but a brisk sortie by Belle's Hellcats in the morning persuaded it to go shadow something else. There'd been three—and a half. One of them was probably a whale—run-ins with submarines, but the destroyer screen had shooed them away before any torpedoes were fired.
All in all, it had to be the most peaceful run to Hawaii Alaska'd ever made. She couldn't decide if that boded well, or if it meant her journey was just saving up all the unpleasantness for when she was too far from home to retreat. It wasn't the sort of thing the large cruiser wanted to dwell on though. Especially when she had a tropical paradise to visit.
The creeping miasma was just starting to part as the fleet steamed ahead, slowing reveling a shining jewel of an island in the middle of a very dark sea.
"I love Hawaii!" belted out Guam. Alaska's little sister had been getting giddier by the mile. Even though they'd only be stopping long enough to top up their bunkers and deliver the monthly mail, she'd bought not one but three swimsuits to try out. Alaska could tell she was already wearing one under her uniform, Guam's top was a lot less robust than her fur-lined parka.
"Don't we all," said Alaska. She squinted into the distance and waved at the little picket fleet steaming to join them. "Hey! We're friendly!"
"'Laska?" echoed back a distant, rapid voice. "Holy hell, that you?"
"Yeah, We're—"
"It's so good to see you again! How're the twins! Is 'Tago with you? How's she doing?"
Alaska hung her head. She liked Salem, she really did. But… her mouth had the same rate of fire as her autoloaders. "Salem!"
"What?"
"One at a time."
"Sorry."
Alaska giggled and had her crew ready for a salute. "The twins are fine," she shouted. "I've got pictures for when we're in port. Tago's—"
"Pan-pakapakapakapakapaka-pa~n!" Trumpeted Atago.
"'Tago!" Salem was close enough now for Alaska to really make her out. She was tall and lithe and despite her tipple autoloaders thoroughly average around the chest. Entirely—so she claimed—because due to her unusually mechanized main battery required she bind her boobs down for extra support.
More importantly, the heavy cruiser was topped by a giant floppy black witch's hat. A hat hat, Alaska knew, was absolutely not a part of her already highly-customized uniform. She bought those hats—plural, they kept getting blown off in high seas—with her own money. Because she could.
"Hello, Salem." Atago waved.
"Hey, is that Guam?" Salem leaned into a turn, her short skirt fluttering in the tropical breeze. "Guam! Hey, Guam!"
"Hi, Salem," said the large cruiser with a chuckle.
"You married yet?"
Guam scowled. "No, Salem. Not yet."
"Oh," Salem thought for a moment before containing. "You'll find a man someday."
"Hope so," mumbled Guam.
"So," Alaska coughed. She really thought her sister put too much weight on getting married. So what if she was the only large cruiser in US naval history without a ring on her finger? It'd happen sooner or later—especially if she kept wearing those adorable blue-purple swimsuits. But Guam was her sister, and she wouldn't push the issue. "Um, what's going on at the island?"
"Well…" Salem pulled alongside the fleet and started counting things off on her fingers. "The Admiral got a new tattoo. All over her back."
Alaska nodded. Uniform standards didn't really apply to ship girls. Especially ones like Admiral Missouri, who came back already sporting a full set of flowing tribal patterns to go with her well-developed tan. Spending years in Pearl as Arizona's silent guardian had gotten to the big Iowa. Of course, it helped that big Mo was essentially goddess-queen of the islands.
"I got married," said Salem, "And they opened a new pancake place near the base."
"Wait, what?" said Alaska. "Go back!"
"The pancake place?" Salem shot the large cruiser a look. "I mean it's good and all, but…"
"No, the other part," Alaska had to suppress a squeal of joy. "You're married?"
"You're married too?" grumbled Guam.
Salem giggled and flashed her ring. "Yeah. Admiral did the service and everything."
"She can do that?" asked Belle.
"She's Mo," said Salem. "She can do whatever she wants."
"Fair point."
"C'mon," said Salem. "Let's get you into harbor and topped off. You got mail?"
Alaska nodded. "Yeah, and I've gotta talk to your Admiral." She bit her lip and glanced back at her fleet. "The rest of my girls?"
"Oh," Salem blushed. "Envoys from the mainland are always welcome! Eat up and enjoy the beaches while you're here. We sweep them for mines daily."
—|—|—
When the fleet hit land, Alaska peeled off for Mo's office as quick as her screws could carry her. Not Guam though. There was snow-white beach calling her name, and a virgin bikini just waiting to get its first taste of warm tropical sun.
They wouldn't have much time on Hawaii, really just long enough for Alaska to brief Mo while the Oilers ate up. But Guam was an intelligent cruiser, and she'd prepared for this eventuality. She had her swimsuit on under her uniform, and she was already furiously working the buttons of her blouse when she and Lou made for the beach.
Her feet were barely on the sand before she shook her hips. She wiggled and shifted her beam until her skirt came falling off with a quiet plop onto the warm sand, leaving her in just her brand new swimsuit. The deep blue fabric brought out the color of her sun-kissed tan. The halter-top kept her humble Alaska-class bustline neatly contained, while the side-tie bottoms drew all eyes to her mighty American Aft.
"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," Guam closed her eyes and let herself flop forwards onto the warm sand. The sun was warm, the air was sweet, and she knew there were more than a few surfers testing the recently de-mined waves. Soon enough, one would come wading out of the surf. Saltwater pouring of his sun-bleached blond, he'd walk over to her, drinking up her tanned curves even though he knew he shouldn't. He'd introduce himself. Nervously at first, but what red-blooded American could let a girl like her slip by without—
"PAN~PAKAPAN!"
Or… or Atago would show up and hypnotize everyone with her jiggles. Seriously, why did she even try. She'd spent weeks picking out the perfect swimwear—something easier said than done, mind you. It was impossible to find clothing that fit both her chest and aft right. She'd had to mix and match like her life depended on it. And now all that effort was wasted.
"Quit pouting," said Lou.
"I'm not pouting," lied Guam.
"You are," Lou smacked the large cruiser on her cheek.
"You two are so gay!" yelled Frisco from across the beach.
"SHUDDUP, FRISCO!" thundered back Guam. "I'VE SEEN YOU WITH PUDDING."
"SHE'S SOFT, BITE ME!"
Guam pouted. "Wish someone would call me soft."
All in all, it had to be the most peaceful run to Hawaii Alaska'd ever made. She couldn't decide if that boded well, or if it meant her journey was just saving up all the unpleasantness for when she was too far from home to retreat. It wasn't the sort of thing the large cruiser wanted to dwell on though. Especially when she had a tropical paradise to visit.
The creeping miasma was just starting to part as the fleet steamed ahead, slowing reveling a shining jewel of an island in the middle of a very dark sea.
"I love Hawaii!" belted out Guam. Alaska's little sister had been getting giddier by the mile. Even though they'd only be stopping long enough to top up their bunkers and deliver the monthly mail, she'd bought not one but three swimsuits to try out. Alaska could tell she was already wearing one under her uniform, Guam's top was a lot less robust than her fur-lined parka.
"Don't we all," said Alaska. She squinted into the distance and waved at the little picket fleet steaming to join them. "Hey! We're friendly!"
"'Laska?" echoed back a distant, rapid voice. "Holy hell, that you?"
"Yeah, We're—"
"It's so good to see you again! How're the twins! Is 'Tago with you? How's she doing?"
Alaska hung her head. She liked Salem, she really did. But… her mouth had the same rate of fire as her autoloaders. "Salem!"
"What?"
"One at a time."
"Sorry."
Alaska giggled and had her crew ready for a salute. "The twins are fine," she shouted. "I've got pictures for when we're in port. Tago's—"
"Pan-pakapakapakapakapaka-pa~n!" Trumpeted Atago.
"'Tago!" Salem was close enough now for Alaska to really make her out. She was tall and lithe and despite her tipple autoloaders thoroughly average around the chest. Entirely—so she claimed—because due to her unusually mechanized main battery required she bind her boobs down for extra support.
More importantly, the heavy cruiser was topped by a giant floppy black witch's hat. A hat hat, Alaska knew, was absolutely not a part of her already highly-customized uniform. She bought those hats—plural, they kept getting blown off in high seas—with her own money. Because she could.
"Hello, Salem." Atago waved.
"Hey, is that Guam?" Salem leaned into a turn, her short skirt fluttering in the tropical breeze. "Guam! Hey, Guam!"
"Hi, Salem," said the large cruiser with a chuckle.
"You married yet?"
Guam scowled. "No, Salem. Not yet."
"Oh," Salem thought for a moment before containing. "You'll find a man someday."
"Hope so," mumbled Guam.
"So," Alaska coughed. She really thought her sister put too much weight on getting married. So what if she was the only large cruiser in US naval history without a ring on her finger? It'd happen sooner or later—especially if she kept wearing those adorable blue-purple swimsuits. But Guam was her sister, and she wouldn't push the issue. "Um, what's going on at the island?"
"Well…" Salem pulled alongside the fleet and started counting things off on her fingers. "The Admiral got a new tattoo. All over her back."
Alaska nodded. Uniform standards didn't really apply to ship girls. Especially ones like Admiral Missouri, who came back already sporting a full set of flowing tribal patterns to go with her well-developed tan. Spending years in Pearl as Arizona's silent guardian had gotten to the big Iowa. Of course, it helped that big Mo was essentially goddess-queen of the islands.
"I got married," said Salem, "And they opened a new pancake place near the base."
"Wait, what?" said Alaska. "Go back!"
"The pancake place?" Salem shot the large cruiser a look. "I mean it's good and all, but…"
"No, the other part," Alaska had to suppress a squeal of joy. "You're married?"
"You're married too?" grumbled Guam.
Salem giggled and flashed her ring. "Yeah. Admiral did the service and everything."
"She can do that?" asked Belle.
"She's Mo," said Salem. "She can do whatever she wants."
"Fair point."
"C'mon," said Salem. "Let's get you into harbor and topped off. You got mail?"
Alaska nodded. "Yeah, and I've gotta talk to your Admiral." She bit her lip and glanced back at her fleet. "The rest of my girls?"
"Oh," Salem blushed. "Envoys from the mainland are always welcome! Eat up and enjoy the beaches while you're here. We sweep them for mines daily."
—|—|—
When the fleet hit land, Alaska peeled off for Mo's office as quick as her screws could carry her. Not Guam though. There was snow-white beach calling her name, and a virgin bikini just waiting to get its first taste of warm tropical sun.
They wouldn't have much time on Hawaii, really just long enough for Alaska to brief Mo while the Oilers ate up. But Guam was an intelligent cruiser, and she'd prepared for this eventuality. She had her swimsuit on under her uniform, and she was already furiously working the buttons of her blouse when she and Lou made for the beach.
Her feet were barely on the sand before she shook her hips. She wiggled and shifted her beam until her skirt came falling off with a quiet plop onto the warm sand, leaving her in just her brand new swimsuit. The deep blue fabric brought out the color of her sun-kissed tan. The halter-top kept her humble Alaska-class bustline neatly contained, while the side-tie bottoms drew all eyes to her mighty American Aft.
"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," Guam closed her eyes and let herself flop forwards onto the warm sand. The sun was warm, the air was sweet, and she knew there were more than a few surfers testing the recently de-mined waves. Soon enough, one would come wading out of the surf. Saltwater pouring of his sun-bleached blond, he'd walk over to her, drinking up her tanned curves even though he knew he shouldn't. He'd introduce himself. Nervously at first, but what red-blooded American could let a girl like her slip by without—
"PAN~PAKAPAN!"
Or… or Atago would show up and hypnotize everyone with her jiggles. Seriously, why did she even try. She'd spent weeks picking out the perfect swimwear—something easier said than done, mind you. It was impossible to find clothing that fit both her chest and aft right. She'd had to mix and match like her life depended on it. And now all that effort was wasted.
"Quit pouting," said Lou.
"I'm not pouting," lied Guam.
"You are," Lou smacked the large cruiser on her cheek.
"You two are so gay!" yelled Frisco from across the beach.
"SHUDDUP, FRISCO!" thundered back Guam. "I'VE SEEN YOU WITH PUDDING."
"SHE'S SOFT, BITE ME!"
Guam pouted. "Wish someone would call me soft."
- Location
- Central Standard Time
*Dodges diving shells*
Please. They're the SecFlot for a reason. Why not both at the same time, /lewd, etc., etc., etcetera.
Meanwhile, in the North... *is depth charged*
And in the Caribbean... *is torpedoed*
A lot happened. Funny stuff. And not just the usual Florida or MSSB stuff.
Also, hip replacements. Good grief. *Is shelled.* An oddly specific multicolored sequence of splashes ensue.
In addition to large 16" undyed splashes, there's also sets of smaller undyed 14", red 14", another set of undyed 14", undyed 18", and another set of undyed 14". Then, a set of pink 16" land.
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
"Winter is coming..."
"Well of course! The trees are changing color, are they not?"
United States of Corgi
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
Today marked Ten years to the day that Commander Corgi's Taskforce and Puerto Rico were declared lost to the Abyss. Captain Norman Barrera shook his head in a attempt to not dwell on the thought for very long, he didn't need to be reminded that his home and most of his family were gone now.
It was a Quiet day in Key Largo, Atlanta was patrolling with a Squadron of PT Corgis. Norman had noticed that all the PT boats stationed here were sad this morning, hell they've been sad all day. However Norman couldn't blame em, the Corgis had looked up to the late Commander greatly.
Hell if some of the rumors he had heard about Corgi from people that had worked with the man before were true, all the PT boats had considered the Commander to be their adoptive Father.
His loss simultaneously coupled with the loss of 130 of their sisters ten years ago today had impacted the rest of the PT dogs still in the US worst of all. Norman remembered back then that the dogs were nigh-catatonic for a week following the news. It was a depressing sight.
Hell even in the years that followed the dogs lost most, if not all, of their normal energy and rowdiness on the anniversary of the Taskforce's declared loss. At least now though the dogs looked like there were finally able to face this day and not be totally crippled.
Captain Barrera knew he was no Commander Corgi when it came to handling the PT Corgis assigned to his post here but he figured that dogs here liked him well enough. At least, enough so that they keep running off with spare Articles of his clothes and deposit em in Atlanta's room.
Something Barrera head that the dogs under Corgi's command did to him and Kentucky back in the day. So he figured that he was doing good by the dogs if he was now being put through something similar. It certainly didn't help matters any that he liked Atlanta and she kept teasing that she felt the same way.
Before Captain Barrera could contemplate whether or not if Atlanta did like him, he heard the Light Cruiser's voice crackle over the Radio. "Captain, I've got a solitary contact heading for shore at 40 knots."
That was strange, having Abyssal probes on the patrol line wasn't unusual but it wasn't ever just one contact. Furthermore none of the past abyssal probes involved ships that moved that fast. Barrera scowled as things didn't add up. "Atlanta can you get a positive ID on the contact before engaging?" He said into the radio even as he motioned to his XO to get the outpost ready for a possible attack.
"Yeah Barrera just gimme a minute." Atlanta said over the radio, one of her radiomen must have left the mic hot because Norman heard Atlanta gasp 30 seconds later, which was followed by the sounds of the PT Corgis with her barking up a storm.
"Atlanta! Atlanta! What's going on out there?" Norman said with a calm yet tense voice over. A dozen seconds of frantic barking sounded over the radio before he heard it settle down to something less than a thunderous roar. Norman wasn't like the late Commander when it came to exactly discerning the emotion and meaning behind the dog's barking. But he swore that they sounded, shocked and happy?
Before he could mull it over any longer Atlanta's voice finally managed to rise over the din the dogs with her were making. "C-Captain. I have a IFF radar return o-on the c-contact s-sir. I-It's PT-41 sir." Came the shaken Voice of Atlanta.
Norman couldn't blame her for being shaken or spooked. In fact as he looked down at his own hands he noticed that they were trembling. PT-41 was one of the Corgis that was attached to Corgi's Taskforce ten years ago. It shouldn't have been possible, fallen boats didn't just reappear out from the mists like this. The fact that radar was showing PT-41's IFF tag now, that meant just one thing. PT-41 must've survived that day ten years ago. But if she survived, who else did?
Norman was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice that the radios had gone silent until he heard a new series of barks. Older sounding, he'd dare say gruff even. It took him a few moments to recognize what the barks were asking, permission to come ashore. Norman hastily went about granting PT-41 permission to come ashore, and then he ordered his XO to prepare a group to welcome PT-41. He had a great number of phone calls to go make.
It was a Quiet day in Key Largo, Atlanta was patrolling with a Squadron of PT Corgis. Norman had noticed that all the PT boats stationed here were sad this morning, hell they've been sad all day. However Norman couldn't blame em, the Corgis had looked up to the late Commander greatly.
Hell if some of the rumors he had heard about Corgi from people that had worked with the man before were true, all the PT boats had considered the Commander to be their adoptive Father.
His loss simultaneously coupled with the loss of 130 of their sisters ten years ago today had impacted the rest of the PT dogs still in the US worst of all. Norman remembered back then that the dogs were nigh-catatonic for a week following the news. It was a depressing sight.
Hell even in the years that followed the dogs lost most, if not all, of their normal energy and rowdiness on the anniversary of the Taskforce's declared loss. At least now though the dogs looked like there were finally able to face this day and not be totally crippled.
Captain Barrera knew he was no Commander Corgi when it came to handling the PT Corgis assigned to his post here but he figured that dogs here liked him well enough. At least, enough so that they keep running off with spare Articles of his clothes and deposit em in Atlanta's room.
Something Barrera head that the dogs under Corgi's command did to him and Kentucky back in the day. So he figured that he was doing good by the dogs if he was now being put through something similar. It certainly didn't help matters any that he liked Atlanta and she kept teasing that she felt the same way.
Before Captain Barrera could contemplate whether or not if Atlanta did like him, he heard the Light Cruiser's voice crackle over the Radio. "Captain, I've got a solitary contact heading for shore at 40 knots."
That was strange, having Abyssal probes on the patrol line wasn't unusual but it wasn't ever just one contact. Furthermore none of the past abyssal probes involved ships that moved that fast. Barrera scowled as things didn't add up. "Atlanta can you get a positive ID on the contact before engaging?" He said into the radio even as he motioned to his XO to get the outpost ready for a possible attack.
"Yeah Barrera just gimme a minute." Atlanta said over the radio, one of her radiomen must have left the mic hot because Norman heard Atlanta gasp 30 seconds later, which was followed by the sounds of the PT Corgis with her barking up a storm.
"Atlanta! Atlanta! What's going on out there?" Norman said with a calm yet tense voice over. A dozen seconds of frantic barking sounded over the radio before he heard it settle down to something less than a thunderous roar. Norman wasn't like the late Commander when it came to exactly discerning the emotion and meaning behind the dog's barking. But he swore that they sounded, shocked and happy?
Before he could mull it over any longer Atlanta's voice finally managed to rise over the din the dogs with her were making. "C-Captain. I have a IFF radar return o-on the c-contact s-sir. I-It's PT-41 sir." Came the shaken Voice of Atlanta.
Norman couldn't blame her for being shaken or spooked. In fact as he looked down at his own hands he noticed that they were trembling. PT-41 was one of the Corgis that was attached to Corgi's Taskforce ten years ago. It shouldn't have been possible, fallen boats didn't just reappear out from the mists like this. The fact that radar was showing PT-41's IFF tag now, that meant just one thing. PT-41 must've survived that day ten years ago. But if she survived, who else did?
Norman was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice that the radios had gone silent until he heard a new series of barks. Older sounding, he'd dare say gruff even. It took him a few moments to recognize what the barks were asking, permission to come ashore. Norman hastily went about granting PT-41 permission to come ashore, and then he ordered his XO to prepare a group to welcome PT-41. He had a great number of phone calls to go make.
[=]
PT-41 panted as she pushed her engines full throttle. The Journey she took was a hard one but it was bearable, having split off from the rest of the group, who were holding station some four hundred miles southeast. Despite carrying extra drums of fuel on deck to ensure she could make the journey back to the scouting group if she hadn't found anything. 41 had still felt uneasy crossing so much open ocean that was under hostile control.
It reminded her of the harrowing Journey she undertook in her first life. A journey that had put her name in the history books and made her Captain famous. Though this time, the journey was far more ominous for she didn't know if the destination point was friendly or not. She had no idea if there still was an America left to go back to, considering what the situation was and what had befallen some of the other countries her faction had attempted contact with.
While many others back in Puerto Rico were concerned that parts of the U.S. had imploded into chaos, William was confident that his home country still stood firm. Kentucky was confident that the US hadn't fallen apart in the last ten years as well. It was the confidence those two had that gave 41 the resolve to undertake this very risky gamble.
Now it seemed the gamble had paid off. She had slowly accelerated to flank speed once she had gotten clear of the Miasma to get close and see if the shoreline bore the telltale signs of Abyssal occupation. There was a moment where she had tensed up when her radar direction finding loop alerted her to having under radar contact.
But that tension eased up when no shells started landing around her, and vanished all together when her own set gave a weaken but solid confirmation of a friendly IFF. USS Atlanta CL-51, though she did heard on her radio set a lot of barking. Part of her was happy to see more of her sisters, though she also knew that they'd probably keep carrying on and clutter up the airwaves.
So she had to go on the horn and tell the dogs with Atlanta to quiet down, before making a request to the Commanding Officer of the outpost she was now closing in on for permission to come ashore. She wanted to spend some with sisters she hadn't seen in a decade now, but she had a mission to take care of first and foremost.
She had several messages to deliver and her crew was now bringing said messages, and the empty bottles that they had been stored in out of her hold and lashing them down on her rigging vest. As she closed the last thousand yards to the shore she slowed down to just above her cruising speed of 23 knots.
When she came ashore, PT-41 spotted a party of marines lead by a Navy officer, a Lieutenant Commander if she wasn't mistaken. She didn't dismiss her rigging as her paws transitioned from walking on the water to trotting on the beach.
She came up to the Navy Officer at a quick but not sprinting pace. She sat down in the sand when she reach the man and barked once. All the bottled messages she had to deliver were secured to the top of her rigging. She had her crew release the first bottle, where she picked it up by the neck and pointed the bottom end to the Navy Officer in front of her.
PT-41 tried with all her effort to keep herself from laughing as she watched the Lieutenant Commander's Reaction as he started reading each of the bottled messages. She failed miserably.
[=]
Captain Norman Barrera sighed as he ended the call with Atlantic command. He had been making calls for the past hour and a half now since PT-41 came ashore. Now, he had one more call to make, to Admiral Jersey. She had to be informed of this. Sighing one more time and bracing himself for what was to come, he punched in the number and called her office.
The phone picked up on the second ring. After asking who this was, Barrera took one final breath and spoke. "Captain Norman Barrera, commander of the Key Largo outpost. Ma'am, I have some information I believe you need to hear."
After a few second's silence on the Admiral's end, Norman continued. "As of an hour and a half ago. PT-41 came ashore bearing several messages secured in glass bottles. Upon opening said bottles and reading the messages within. We have learned that a portion of Commander Corgi's Taskforce is still alive in Puerto Rico." He took a breath before continuing. He had to head her off before she started demanding answers.
"Furthermore ma'am the messages carried by PT-41 indicate that amongst the Survivors is USS Kentucky, BB-66." Barrera said, involuntarily shivering as he swore he felt the air by the receiver drop ten degrees suddenly. Admiral Jersey asked him to say that again in a very quiet voice with no profanity, something that frankly terrified him.
"Yes Ma'am, you heard me correctly. According to the messages carried by PT-41, your sister is still alive. Married, and even a mother now..." Barrera had to move the receiver away from his ear when the shout demanding for baby pictures thundered out. After a minute of, well Barrera wasn't sure what he could call what he was hearing from the phone. It quieted down to a safe level to bring it back to his ear.
"Yes Ma'am, one of the messages PT-41 was carrying was a letter from Kentucky addressed to her sisters...no Ma'am I have not read it... Yes Ma'am there were several pictures accompanying the letter... Yes Ma'am I'll send you a copy of the letter and pictures as soon as possible. As well as copies of all the other messages."
He heard Jersey ask when Kentucky was coming home and he winced. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but I'm afraid Kentucky isn't coming back to the US Mainland. Not Permanently anyways. One of the messages was a Letter from Commander Corgi. You can read all the details when the copy of it lands on your desk but the quick of it is this." He said before taking another breath before speaking.
"People in Puerto Rico figured they were last ones left standing after they picked themselves up out of the rubble and ashes from that fight ten years ago. After they got no word from the Government on the mainland. PR declared itself a state and continued on like it was last remnant of the US Government. The people there put Corgi in charge of everything after he got law and order restored on the island. Kentucky is his wife now and they have six kids. And they're still carrying out the mission they were originally sent out to do Ten years ago, with several Islands around Puerto Rico under control in addition to a foothold in the west tip of the former Dominican Republic." A few seconds after he finished, came the questions.
"No Ma'am by the time the people put him in charge and declared Statehood they thought the rest of the Government had fallen apart after nobody else from the mainland was sent out their way to even scout out the region after a year and a half. Coupled with the surge in the Abyssal miasma, they had no way of knowing if there was anyone left to report to..."
And so the questions and answered continued for another half hour before the call was finished. Captain Barrera felt a massive migraine coming on by the time he hung the phone up. He ordered his XO to get copies of the messages and photos made and sent out to not only Admiral Jersey, but her other sisters as well. Though Admiral Missouri wouldn't get the news till the next convoy to Hawaii set out, sometime in the next two weeks.
SeismicGuide
The Quakiest of Quakebotes
- Location
- A usually Warm, Southern state of the US
Reunion at last
- Location
- 'Murica
The first leg of the trip had been as uneventful as could reasonably be expected. The second was anything but. The forces at Pearl had held back the frigid Miasma. But as Alaska and her fleet steamed west that protection waned with every passing mile.
They'd picked up their first shadow before sundown. A flurry of six-inch from Lou's fifteen rifles had quickly dispatched the cruiser. Wreckage was still burning on the surface when one of Belle's TBFs spotted a periscope wake sidling up to one of the oilers. By the time the destroyers were in position it was gone. The submarine must've thought better of its chances and slipped away at depth.
It was not the best way to start the evening. Alaska would have preferred reading her daughters a bedtime story. Or, in a pinch, her destroyers. They'd grown up over the past decade, supposedly matured to the point they no longer needed nor desired bedtime stories. But Alaska could tell they still enjoyed them.
The question was moot though. Nobody was sleeping for the next few weeks. Resistance only got stiffer the deeper the fleet steamed into Abyssal waters. Submarine attacks became routine. When the underwater terrors weren't trying to plug a fish up one of the matronly oilers' skirts, Alaska and Guam were shooing away surface raiders with their twelve inchers. Sometimes while that was going on, Belle was frantically vectoring Hellcats to stay on top of air threats that kept cropping up.
Alaska lost track of time before the end of the third day. Seconds felt like hours, but hours blended together into a muddled churn that felt like it was over in heartbeats. She was cold. Colder than she should be at the latitude. The miasma was pushed back over the horizon, but she could steel feel it in her keel. It was out there. Circling. Waiting for her to show weakness.
A short, violent rumble in her stomach alerted her that it was time to resupply. She pressed both hands against her stomach. She was used to quick patrols around the coast, the last time she'd felt a hunger pang this severe she'd been carrying two girls in her belly. Though, at the time, she'd assumed it was just a result of her mother-in-law's cooking.
"Guam, you mind taking over for a bit?" She asked. She was hungry, but not debilitated.
"Yeah, go," said the littlest Large Cruiser.
"Thanks," Alaska veered off and fell back to where the oilers had huddled up. A pack of destroyers was just finishing their resupply. Alaska could tell from their grumbling that peanut-butter and jellies with the crust cut off offended their newfound maturity. Alaska didn't understand that, though admittedly she was actually younger than some of them.
She'd made enough school lunches for her girls to know that the only thing better than PB&J with no crust was PB&J with no crust made by someone who loved you. "Hi, Cimmy," Alaska smiled at the matronly oiler. She wasn't quite as plump as some of the slower fleet oilers, but she still exuded that kind motherly energy. Which was weird because Alaska was the only actual mother in the fleet.
"'Laska," Cimmy produced a sandwich, juice box, and fresh apple for Alaska. "Thank you."
Alaska blinked. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"
Cimmy shook her head and smoothed the apron covering her short skirt. "You've been keeping us safe," she waved to her fellow oilers. "Thank you."
Alaska blushed. "You, um, you make it…"
"What?" Cimmy tensed. The oiler didn't have radar, but she could tell from the large cruiser's unfocused but intense look that Alaska was scrutinizing hers. "Are we in danger?"
"I dunno," muttered Alaska. "Hey, Belle!"
"Oui!"
"I got something. Three-one-niner airborne."
"Yeah, I see him." Belle grunted and cradled her chin between two fingers. "Huh."
"Huh?" said Alaska. She wasn't worried, Belle wasn't screaming for falk cover so it couldn't be that bad. But… she wasn't not worried either.
"Single recce plane," said Belle. "All by his lonesome. Looks like a Paul."
"Think he sees us?"
"Nah," said Belle. "Imma bounce him anyways."
"Copy that," said Alaska. Pauls—E16As—weren't bad planes as far as scout planes went. But hauling an observer and pair of floats ate into the performance like an Iowa at a buffet. The hellcats would make short work of—
"Holy shit! 'Laska!" Belle cried with joy. "That thing's got meatballs on the wings!"
"Wait, what?" Alaska couldn't help but grin like an idiot.
"That fucker's Japanese!" Belle howled with laughter. "'tago! 'tago we've spotted a Jap floatplane."
Atago was uncharacteristically silent. But she smiled like a dope while tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Form up with him!" ordered Alaska.
"Already am," said Belle. "He's… he wants us to follow him, I think."
"Um… yeah," Alaska nodded. "Let's…" She couldn't believe she'd really found a Japanaesefloatplane. "Let's follow him in."
—|—|—
Large Cruiser Alaska Young was more confused than she'd ever been in her short life. Which was saying something, considering her track-record.
The ship approaching her was unmistakably Japanese. She almost looked like a Tone-class aviation cruiser. All her guns were ahead of her massive canted stack, a quartet of twin turrets all pointed ostentatiously away from the American expedition. Her aft was covered with aircraft catapults and float-plane dolleys. Her outfit was spot-on too. A short, well-fitted green blazer and a long black skirt slit up to the base of her full but modest bustline.
She ticked every box to be a Tone save one. Alaska could clearly see the white side-ties of low-slung panties peeking out around her hips. And Janes' Fighting Kanmusu had been emphatic that lack of underthings was a defining characteristic of the class. Alaska shivered. She didn't know what'd happen to Japan in the last decade, but if it was severe enough to get a Tone into panties…
"That Chikuma?" Guam squinted.
Alaska shook her head. "Can't be, hair's the wrong color and it's not in twintails."
"It can't be Tone," said Guam. "Look at her boobs."
Alaska nodded. The nameship of the class was infamously flat-chested. This girl was as thick around the stacks as Alaska was. "Ten years is a long time."
Guam crossed her arms with a huff. "If she got married too…"
Alaska shushed her sister as they steamed into hailing range. She had to squint, but she could just make out the Japanese cruiser's flag. A rising sun, like she expected. But emblazoned in the middle was an iron-gray lotus blossom. "Huh," she said to herself. "Hello there!" she yelled, waving an empty hand and traversing her turrets away from the mystery cruiser. "We're Americans! We'er here to help!"
"Americans," the Japanese warship stammered out the word, laughing and crying all the same. "Atago!"
"Tone?" Atago cocked her head and looked back to Alaska for a moment. "Tone, is that really you?"
"Hai," Tone nodded. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
"Me either," Atago charged ahead, plowing through the waves to close the distance with her long-lost friend. "Oh, it's good to see you again."
"It's good to see all of you," said Tone. "After so long… some of us were starting to think there wasn't anyone out there to hear our message."
Alaska cocked her head, the eternal mystery of Tone's panties momentarily shifted to the back burner of her mind. "It's only been four weeks," she said. "How… how fast did you think we would get here?"
Tone gave the large cruiser a bewildered look. It was hard to read precisely, seeing the little expedition had already swamped her with emotions that pushing anything else on to her features was an exercise in futility. "Four weeks?" She looked from Alaska to Atago in confusion.
"Since your message," said Alaska. The hair on the back of her neck started to stand up, and she reflexively moved her hand to the butt of her gun. She didn't grip it, not quite. But she was tensed for the draw. She glanced towards the middle of the fleet. Belle caught her eye and briefly shook her head. No contacts from the CAP.
Tone narrowed her eyes. "What message?"
"The summons to see the Iron Shogun," said Guam. Alaska could tell her tanned tropical sister was as tense as she was. "You sent it, right?"
Tone nodded. "We've been sending it every day for six years."
Alaska blinked. "We, uh…. I mean, we only picked it up a few weeks ago."
"I see," Tone looked around and shook her head. "I suppose even that was a miracle."
"Nah," said Alaska. "The miracle is finding out after a decade that you aren't all dead."
"Likewise."
"So," Alaska wrung her hands and glanced back towards her train of oilers. "Think we could head for shore? I'd like to keep it that way."
"Of course," Tone took lead of the flotilla. "The shogun will be happy to see you all."
"I'm… happy to see him too?" Half-said half-asked Alaska. She was confused, fumbling in the dark. And the more hints of information Tone offered up, the more confused she became. She had so many questions to ask.
"Uh, Tone?" Atago beat her to it. "You've changed since the last time we met."
"Huh?" Tone cocked her head, then blushed into a smile. She hooked a thumb over the tie of her panties. "Yeah… shogun's wife has a thing for modesty."
Alaska opened her mouth, but again Atago beat her to the punch.
"That's not what I meant," said Atago with a giggle. The busty blond glanced sideways at Tone's smaller but still prominent breasts. "You've filled out."
Tone's blush got even deeper. "Oh. Yeah. Well… gotta feed the girls somehow."
"YOU HAD BABIES!" Atago's voice was suddenly loud enough to physically push Alaska a few degrees off-course. "Pictures! Panpakapictures!"
Tone nodded. "Two beautiful little girls. And that's not all." She held up her hand to flash a simple silver band around her finger.
"You're MARRIED!" Atago squealed with joy.
"You're married!" growled Guam with frustration.
Tone nodded furiously. "I have pictures!"
"Wedding or baby?" Asked Atago breathlessly.
"Both!"
Atago squealed with joy, her whole body jiggling with anticipation while Tone fished an album from her pocket.
—|—|—
Tone escorted the fleet until the miasma started to break before she had to resume her duty station. That wouldn't have been so bad. She'd sent a plane ahead to inform the Shogun—whoever that was—of the Americans' arrival, and doubtless to start the formation of a welcoming party.
Unfortunately, less than an hour after Tone departed Belle reported that Takao was closing at speed. Alaska just couldn't bring herself to keep Atago in the fleet. If she met Guam after thinking her beloved little sister had been dead for a decade… With Alaska's blessing, the two heavy cruisers steamed off to catch up over sushi.
Watching her best friend flood with the kind of joy Alaska hadn't seen in ten years was heartwarming. But with Atago gone, Alaska'd lost her last Japanese native. She was steaming blind into a country that had so surpassed the background level of weird usually had that Tone was wearing panties.
It was the twins all over again. Before she could dwell on it, she spotted another flotilla closing in. At its head was the proud, pagoda-laden figure of a big-seven battle-wagon. Her skirt was short, her legs were long, and… and she was actually slightly but noticeably shorter than Alaska, but that wasn't really relevant. Her short, fluffy brown hair steamed in the salty air. With her gloved hands on her broad hips, her red-trimmed caplet whipped into the breeze.
"Mutsu!" Alaska beamed. She'd only met the second Nagato once, but that one meeting had lived up to her expectations. Mutsu was sweet, kind, and smugly maternal. Rumor was, she was starting to fall for one of the US admirals forward-deployed to Japan. John… something or other.
"That's Lady Mutsu to you," the battleship slowed her approach, a giant smile on her face. "Regent of the coalition. And…" She put her hands on her hips with a smirk. "First wife of the shogun."
Alaska beamed, then turned to her sister.
"What?" Guam shrugged. "Everyone saw that coming."
Now it was Alaska's turn to shrug. "Lady Mutsu then," she said with as deep a bow as she was capable of making. "I understand Tone sent a message ahead of us?"
"Indeed she did," Mutsu wheeled around to join the formation. "Come, my husband will be wanting to talk to you."
Alaska nodded. "Um… what's the coalition?"
"An alliance against the Abyss," said Mutsu. "Japan, Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines…" Mutsu shrugged. "We've even reclaimed bits of China and Russia now."
"Really?" Alaska furiously scribbled notes in her logbook. There was so much she wanted to know, so many questions she'd have to ask. She didn't know where to start.
"Without the Pacific, we had to support ourselves somehow," said Mutsu. "All of us did."
"Makes sense," admitted Alaska. Without the USN to push back the deep and America's seas of grain, Japan would've had to get creative just to survive. "I can't believe you made it."
"It… was tricky," admitted the battleship. "But we're here now. And so are you!" Mutsu blinked and glanced at Alaska's chest. "Speaking of…"
"Oh," Alaska giggled and fished for her wallet. "I had twins."
"Really?" Mutsu patted her exposed and tightly toned abs. "Me too!"
Alaska smiled, but a moment later that grin caught on something and she turned to check on her sister.
"Again," said a thoroughly ambivalent Guam, "It's Mutsu."
They'd picked up their first shadow before sundown. A flurry of six-inch from Lou's fifteen rifles had quickly dispatched the cruiser. Wreckage was still burning on the surface when one of Belle's TBFs spotted a periscope wake sidling up to one of the oilers. By the time the destroyers were in position it was gone. The submarine must've thought better of its chances and slipped away at depth.
It was not the best way to start the evening. Alaska would have preferred reading her daughters a bedtime story. Or, in a pinch, her destroyers. They'd grown up over the past decade, supposedly matured to the point they no longer needed nor desired bedtime stories. But Alaska could tell they still enjoyed them.
The question was moot though. Nobody was sleeping for the next few weeks. Resistance only got stiffer the deeper the fleet steamed into Abyssal waters. Submarine attacks became routine. When the underwater terrors weren't trying to plug a fish up one of the matronly oilers' skirts, Alaska and Guam were shooing away surface raiders with their twelve inchers. Sometimes while that was going on, Belle was frantically vectoring Hellcats to stay on top of air threats that kept cropping up.
Alaska lost track of time before the end of the third day. Seconds felt like hours, but hours blended together into a muddled churn that felt like it was over in heartbeats. She was cold. Colder than she should be at the latitude. The miasma was pushed back over the horizon, but she could steel feel it in her keel. It was out there. Circling. Waiting for her to show weakness.
A short, violent rumble in her stomach alerted her that it was time to resupply. She pressed both hands against her stomach. She was used to quick patrols around the coast, the last time she'd felt a hunger pang this severe she'd been carrying two girls in her belly. Though, at the time, she'd assumed it was just a result of her mother-in-law's cooking.
"Guam, you mind taking over for a bit?" She asked. She was hungry, but not debilitated.
"Yeah, go," said the littlest Large Cruiser.
"Thanks," Alaska veered off and fell back to where the oilers had huddled up. A pack of destroyers was just finishing their resupply. Alaska could tell from their grumbling that peanut-butter and jellies with the crust cut off offended their newfound maturity. Alaska didn't understand that, though admittedly she was actually younger than some of them.
She'd made enough school lunches for her girls to know that the only thing better than PB&J with no crust was PB&J with no crust made by someone who loved you. "Hi, Cimmy," Alaska smiled at the matronly oiler. She wasn't quite as plump as some of the slower fleet oilers, but she still exuded that kind motherly energy. Which was weird because Alaska was the only actual mother in the fleet.
"'Laska," Cimmy produced a sandwich, juice box, and fresh apple for Alaska. "Thank you."
Alaska blinked. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"
Cimmy shook her head and smoothed the apron covering her short skirt. "You've been keeping us safe," she waved to her fellow oilers. "Thank you."
Alaska blushed. "You, um, you make it…"
"What?" Cimmy tensed. The oiler didn't have radar, but she could tell from the large cruiser's unfocused but intense look that Alaska was scrutinizing hers. "Are we in danger?"
"I dunno," muttered Alaska. "Hey, Belle!"
"Oui!"
"I got something. Three-one-niner airborne."
"Yeah, I see him." Belle grunted and cradled her chin between two fingers. "Huh."
"Huh?" said Alaska. She wasn't worried, Belle wasn't screaming for falk cover so it couldn't be that bad. But… she wasn't not worried either.
"Single recce plane," said Belle. "All by his lonesome. Looks like a Paul."
"Think he sees us?"
"Nah," said Belle. "Imma bounce him anyways."
"Copy that," said Alaska. Pauls—E16As—weren't bad planes as far as scout planes went. But hauling an observer and pair of floats ate into the performance like an Iowa at a buffet. The hellcats would make short work of—
"Holy shit! 'Laska!" Belle cried with joy. "That thing's got meatballs on the wings!"
"Wait, what?" Alaska couldn't help but grin like an idiot.
"That fucker's Japanese!" Belle howled with laughter. "'tago! 'tago we've spotted a Jap floatplane."
Atago was uncharacteristically silent. But she smiled like a dope while tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Form up with him!" ordered Alaska.
"Already am," said Belle. "He's… he wants us to follow him, I think."
"Um… yeah," Alaska nodded. "Let's…" She couldn't believe she'd really found a Japanaesefloatplane. "Let's follow him in."
—|—|—
Large Cruiser Alaska Young was more confused than she'd ever been in her short life. Which was saying something, considering her track-record.
The ship approaching her was unmistakably Japanese. She almost looked like a Tone-class aviation cruiser. All her guns were ahead of her massive canted stack, a quartet of twin turrets all pointed ostentatiously away from the American expedition. Her aft was covered with aircraft catapults and float-plane dolleys. Her outfit was spot-on too. A short, well-fitted green blazer and a long black skirt slit up to the base of her full but modest bustline.
She ticked every box to be a Tone save one. Alaska could clearly see the white side-ties of low-slung panties peeking out around her hips. And Janes' Fighting Kanmusu had been emphatic that lack of underthings was a defining characteristic of the class. Alaska shivered. She didn't know what'd happen to Japan in the last decade, but if it was severe enough to get a Tone into panties…
"That Chikuma?" Guam squinted.
Alaska shook her head. "Can't be, hair's the wrong color and it's not in twintails."
"It can't be Tone," said Guam. "Look at her boobs."
Alaska nodded. The nameship of the class was infamously flat-chested. This girl was as thick around the stacks as Alaska was. "Ten years is a long time."
Guam crossed her arms with a huff. "If she got married too…"
Alaska shushed her sister as they steamed into hailing range. She had to squint, but she could just make out the Japanese cruiser's flag. A rising sun, like she expected. But emblazoned in the middle was an iron-gray lotus blossom. "Huh," she said to herself. "Hello there!" she yelled, waving an empty hand and traversing her turrets away from the mystery cruiser. "We're Americans! We'er here to help!"
"Americans," the Japanese warship stammered out the word, laughing and crying all the same. "Atago!"
"Tone?" Atago cocked her head and looked back to Alaska for a moment. "Tone, is that really you?"
"Hai," Tone nodded. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
"Me either," Atago charged ahead, plowing through the waves to close the distance with her long-lost friend. "Oh, it's good to see you again."
"It's good to see all of you," said Tone. "After so long… some of us were starting to think there wasn't anyone out there to hear our message."
Alaska cocked her head, the eternal mystery of Tone's panties momentarily shifted to the back burner of her mind. "It's only been four weeks," she said. "How… how fast did you think we would get here?"
Tone gave the large cruiser a bewildered look. It was hard to read precisely, seeing the little expedition had already swamped her with emotions that pushing anything else on to her features was an exercise in futility. "Four weeks?" She looked from Alaska to Atago in confusion.
"Since your message," said Alaska. The hair on the back of her neck started to stand up, and she reflexively moved her hand to the butt of her gun. She didn't grip it, not quite. But she was tensed for the draw. She glanced towards the middle of the fleet. Belle caught her eye and briefly shook her head. No contacts from the CAP.
Tone narrowed her eyes. "What message?"
"The summons to see the Iron Shogun," said Guam. Alaska could tell her tanned tropical sister was as tense as she was. "You sent it, right?"
Tone nodded. "We've been sending it every day for six years."
Alaska blinked. "We, uh…. I mean, we only picked it up a few weeks ago."
"I see," Tone looked around and shook her head. "I suppose even that was a miracle."
"Nah," said Alaska. "The miracle is finding out after a decade that you aren't all dead."
"Likewise."
"So," Alaska wrung her hands and glanced back towards her train of oilers. "Think we could head for shore? I'd like to keep it that way."
"Of course," Tone took lead of the flotilla. "The shogun will be happy to see you all."
"I'm… happy to see him too?" Half-said half-asked Alaska. She was confused, fumbling in the dark. And the more hints of information Tone offered up, the more confused she became. She had so many questions to ask.
"Uh, Tone?" Atago beat her to it. "You've changed since the last time we met."
"Huh?" Tone cocked her head, then blushed into a smile. She hooked a thumb over the tie of her panties. "Yeah… shogun's wife has a thing for modesty."
Alaska opened her mouth, but again Atago beat her to the punch.
"That's not what I meant," said Atago with a giggle. The busty blond glanced sideways at Tone's smaller but still prominent breasts. "You've filled out."
Tone's blush got even deeper. "Oh. Yeah. Well… gotta feed the girls somehow."
"YOU HAD BABIES!" Atago's voice was suddenly loud enough to physically push Alaska a few degrees off-course. "Pictures! Panpakapictures!"
Tone nodded. "Two beautiful little girls. And that's not all." She held up her hand to flash a simple silver band around her finger.
"You're MARRIED!" Atago squealed with joy.
"You're married!" growled Guam with frustration.
Tone nodded furiously. "I have pictures!"
"Wedding or baby?" Asked Atago breathlessly.
"Both!"
Atago squealed with joy, her whole body jiggling with anticipation while Tone fished an album from her pocket.
—|—|—
Tone escorted the fleet until the miasma started to break before she had to resume her duty station. That wouldn't have been so bad. She'd sent a plane ahead to inform the Shogun—whoever that was—of the Americans' arrival, and doubtless to start the formation of a welcoming party.
Unfortunately, less than an hour after Tone departed Belle reported that Takao was closing at speed. Alaska just couldn't bring herself to keep Atago in the fleet. If she met Guam after thinking her beloved little sister had been dead for a decade… With Alaska's blessing, the two heavy cruisers steamed off to catch up over sushi.
Watching her best friend flood with the kind of joy Alaska hadn't seen in ten years was heartwarming. But with Atago gone, Alaska'd lost her last Japanese native. She was steaming blind into a country that had so surpassed the background level of weird usually had that Tone was wearing panties.
It was the twins all over again. Before she could dwell on it, she spotted another flotilla closing in. At its head was the proud, pagoda-laden figure of a big-seven battle-wagon. Her skirt was short, her legs were long, and… and she was actually slightly but noticeably shorter than Alaska, but that wasn't really relevant. Her short, fluffy brown hair steamed in the salty air. With her gloved hands on her broad hips, her red-trimmed caplet whipped into the breeze.
"Mutsu!" Alaska beamed. She'd only met the second Nagato once, but that one meeting had lived up to her expectations. Mutsu was sweet, kind, and smugly maternal. Rumor was, she was starting to fall for one of the US admirals forward-deployed to Japan. John… something or other.
"That's Lady Mutsu to you," the battleship slowed her approach, a giant smile on her face. "Regent of the coalition. And…" She put her hands on her hips with a smirk. "First wife of the shogun."
Alaska beamed, then turned to her sister.
"What?" Guam shrugged. "Everyone saw that coming."
Now it was Alaska's turn to shrug. "Lady Mutsu then," she said with as deep a bow as she was capable of making. "I understand Tone sent a message ahead of us?"
"Indeed she did," Mutsu wheeled around to join the formation. "Come, my husband will be wanting to talk to you."
Alaska nodded. "Um… what's the coalition?"
"An alliance against the Abyss," said Mutsu. "Japan, Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines…" Mutsu shrugged. "We've even reclaimed bits of China and Russia now."
"Really?" Alaska furiously scribbled notes in her logbook. There was so much she wanted to know, so many questions she'd have to ask. She didn't know where to start.
"Without the Pacific, we had to support ourselves somehow," said Mutsu. "All of us did."
"Makes sense," admitted Alaska. Without the USN to push back the deep and America's seas of grain, Japan would've had to get creative just to survive. "I can't believe you made it."
"It… was tricky," admitted the battleship. "But we're here now. And so are you!" Mutsu blinked and glanced at Alaska's chest. "Speaking of…"
"Oh," Alaska giggled and fished for her wallet. "I had twins."
"Really?" Mutsu patted her exposed and tightly toned abs. "Me too!"
Alaska smiled, but a moment later that grin caught on something and she turned to check on her sister.
"Again," said a thoroughly ambivalent Guam, "It's Mutsu."
ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
I'm guessing we'll soon meet Daimyo Goto, his wife, Lady Kongo, and their seventeen children?
"Japan went through a new Dark Age, Dess...we had to find some way to occupy ourselves! Thankfully, Daimyo Teitoku is a very virile man!"
*Cue embarrassed, flustered Daimyo Admiral noises*
"Japan went through a new Dark Age, Dess...we had to find some way to occupy ourselves! Thankfully, Daimyo Teitoku is a very virile man!"
*Cue embarrassed, flustered Daimyo Admiral noises*
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
For a moment I misread this as 'Musashi had twins', and was terrified.
Musashi already has twins.
Twin-mou... wait, shit, the Japanese AA guns were triple mounts, that joke doesn't work any more!
The Iron Shogun
- Location
- 'Murica
Japan was weird. Japan had always been weird, Alaska remembered noticing that the last time she'd visited the islands. But a decade of near-isolation had only intensified the strangeness that seemed inherent to small island nations. It wasn't just that Tone was wearing panties without complaint, it was… it was a dozen little things.
For one, it seemed like every other woman she passed on the streets was wearing a miniskirt. Not one as short as Mutsu's of course, no woman without thirty-eight thousand tons of concentrated magic could wear a skirt that short without turning into a walking panty shot. But still, short skirts worn low around the hips cropped up everywhere Alaska turned her head.
Even more women were walking around in shirts cropped short over their stomachs. Alaska never thought Guam's ever-exposed tropical tummy would've looked so at home this far from a sandy beach.
"Rationing." Mutsu hooked a thumb over the sturdy forged-iron waistband of her tiny skirt. "For a while supplies were tight, we had to make do with less."
"For a while?" asked Alaska.
Mutsu nodded. "We were able to stabilize our supply lines eventually, but…" she smirked. The kind of smirk that implied her hand in the events was as decisive as it was unprovable, "fashion is harder to dislodge than abyssal princesses."
Alaska nodded knowingly. Before she could ask another question her sister sidled up to Mutsu with a gleam in her eye. A glint as mischievous as it was hungry. "So," asked Guam, "You said you were the shogun's first wife?"
Mutsu beamed with pride. "I am."
"You're still alive though," said Guam. "So…"
Mutsu stifled a giggle with her hand. "Do you think the Iron Shogun could contended with just one woman?"
Guam's eyes went blank, her mouth lolled open and a squat little fairy ran out onto her shoulder and started frantically waving a white flag with a red diamond in the middle. Alaska helpfully smacked her sister upside the head to get things dislodged.
"So he's got two wives?" guessed Alaska.
Mutsu giggled again. "More, actually." She shrugged. "He's a very charming man."
"Huh," said Alaska.
Guam blinked. She might be unmarried, but she was still a cruiser. Her mind was hard-wired for reconnaissance and scouting. Data synthesis was in her blood, and it didn't take her long to mentally reboot and build a new solution. "Hey, 'laska—"
"No."
"Bu—"
"No."
Guam scowled. Before she could say more, Mutsu shepherded the American contingent to a part of the base that looked somewhat familiar. A concrete blockhouse with its true shape disguised under layers of sandbags and jagged camouflage was guarded by a pair of Japanese MPs with fixed bayonets.
One of them nodded at Mutsu, muttering something respectful-sounding in Japanese Alaska didn't quite catch. The other cranked open a door big enough for Mutsu to step through without ducking. Alaska and Guam had to stoop a bit though.
"This way," said Mutsu. The door might've been small, but the ceilings were towering enough for the two large cruisers to stand straight. In fact, they were probably tall enough for Admiral Jersey to stand without risking damage to the paintwork.
Alaska nodded and elbowed her sister in the bare belly. Guam was looking at everything butMutsu, which would've been good reconnaissance practice if her gaze hadn't settled on the bespectacled Caucasian lecturing in a side room. Alaska only caught a few words, he was either talking about ethics or cartoons. His appearance wasn't out of the ordinary. Plenty of Americans were trapped in Japan when the Miasma fell. But Alaska could tell that wasn't why her sister was staring.
"Sorry," mumbled Guam.
Mutsu lead them deeper into the compound, past another door guarded by rifle-toting MPs to yet another door. Well, actually a big set of double doors. Doors big enough that even Alaska could walk through without drama. She wasn't quite sure about Jersey though.
Mutsu leaned into the center and threw them open. "My shogun!" she crooned with heart-dripping earnestness. Her long coat fluttered in the sudden breeze and her skirt deftly sidestepped an oncoming panty shot."Our guests have arrived."
"Mutsu, you're my wife." At the other end of the room sat a man. His hair had gone a pure silver almost as stark as Alaska's snowy mane. His uniform was still recognizable as USN duty-dress blues, but only just. He'd clearly been around Mutsu long enough for countering her innate smugness to become instinct. Counter-teasing was a relex he did without thinking. "You can call me…"
Suddenly, he trailed off. His mind had fully detached from the mountains of paperwork half-hiding him behind his desk. He set a pen down with a clatter that echoed off the walls. Slowly he looked up. Haltingly at first, gingerly. As if he was worried that if he seemed too eager Alaska and her expedition would vanish before his eyes.
"So they are," he said at last. His voice was little more than a shaky murmur. His eyes started to glaze over and a shaky smile pushed its way onto his lips. Timidly at first, testing the waters before erupting into unpracticed joy. "So you are."
Alaska didn't have a lot of friends. Most of those she did have were friends she'd made on-base. Loosing Japan hurt her, but mostly because she saw the hurt in her friends' eyes. But this man… this American. For ten years he'd lost everything he'd ever known.
She coughed and took a step forward. She didn't have a clue what to say, but… her name was a start at least. "Captain Alaska Young." She snapped a hand to her brow in salute. "I offer greetings from the United States to the Iron shogun."
The man brought his shaking hands together in a steeple and laughed. "You're really…" He stopped for a second. "The Iron Shogun?"
Alaska nodded. "We got your message."
The man shook his head. "My name is Richardson. Admiral John Richardson. How did—" He glanced at Mutsu, who was busily making a point of admiring the light fixtures. "Why?"
Mutsu shrugged. "It amused me. Besides, just 'admiral' is too base a title for my husband."
The man—Richardson—shook his head with a smile. "It's good to see you all. To hear the country's still in one piece."
"Thank you, sir." said Alaska. "It's good to see you too. When we lost contact—"
"You feared the worst," Richardson nodded. "We did the same."
"Sir," Alaska coughed. "I've got a million questions, and I'm sure you do as well. I'd love to answer them, but it was a long trip and I've got a lot of thirsty oilers."
"No, of course." Richardson couldn't stop smiling. "We'll get you fed and taken care of. Mutsu?"
"Yes, my shogun." Mutsu bowed deeply from the waist while smiling smugly. "It shall be done."
Richardson ignored her. "Captain Young." He stopped for a moment and smiled wider as he put the pieces together. "Congratulations, first off. Would you and your staff dine with me tonight? Maybe we can answer some questions."
Alaska nodded. "I'd be honored." She paused, grabbed two fistfuls of her short skirt and dipped her hips in a curtsy. "My shogun."
Richardson somehow managed to smile and glate at his battleshipwife with one expression. "This is your fault."
Mutsu preened innocently. "This way~"
For one, it seemed like every other woman she passed on the streets was wearing a miniskirt. Not one as short as Mutsu's of course, no woman without thirty-eight thousand tons of concentrated magic could wear a skirt that short without turning into a walking panty shot. But still, short skirts worn low around the hips cropped up everywhere Alaska turned her head.
Even more women were walking around in shirts cropped short over their stomachs. Alaska never thought Guam's ever-exposed tropical tummy would've looked so at home this far from a sandy beach.
"Rationing." Mutsu hooked a thumb over the sturdy forged-iron waistband of her tiny skirt. "For a while supplies were tight, we had to make do with less."
"For a while?" asked Alaska.
Mutsu nodded. "We were able to stabilize our supply lines eventually, but…" she smirked. The kind of smirk that implied her hand in the events was as decisive as it was unprovable, "fashion is harder to dislodge than abyssal princesses."
Alaska nodded knowingly. Before she could ask another question her sister sidled up to Mutsu with a gleam in her eye. A glint as mischievous as it was hungry. "So," asked Guam, "You said you were the shogun's first wife?"
Mutsu beamed with pride. "I am."
"You're still alive though," said Guam. "So…"
Mutsu stifled a giggle with her hand. "Do you think the Iron Shogun could contended with just one woman?"
Guam's eyes went blank, her mouth lolled open and a squat little fairy ran out onto her shoulder and started frantically waving a white flag with a red diamond in the middle. Alaska helpfully smacked her sister upside the head to get things dislodged.
"So he's got two wives?" guessed Alaska.
Mutsu giggled again. "More, actually." She shrugged. "He's a very charming man."
"Huh," said Alaska.
Guam blinked. She might be unmarried, but she was still a cruiser. Her mind was hard-wired for reconnaissance and scouting. Data synthesis was in her blood, and it didn't take her long to mentally reboot and build a new solution. "Hey, 'laska—"
"No."
"Bu—"
"No."
Guam scowled. Before she could say more, Mutsu shepherded the American contingent to a part of the base that looked somewhat familiar. A concrete blockhouse with its true shape disguised under layers of sandbags and jagged camouflage was guarded by a pair of Japanese MPs with fixed bayonets.
One of them nodded at Mutsu, muttering something respectful-sounding in Japanese Alaska didn't quite catch. The other cranked open a door big enough for Mutsu to step through without ducking. Alaska and Guam had to stoop a bit though.
"This way," said Mutsu. The door might've been small, but the ceilings were towering enough for the two large cruisers to stand straight. In fact, they were probably tall enough for Admiral Jersey to stand without risking damage to the paintwork.
Alaska nodded and elbowed her sister in the bare belly. Guam was looking at everything butMutsu, which would've been good reconnaissance practice if her gaze hadn't settled on the bespectacled Caucasian lecturing in a side room. Alaska only caught a few words, he was either talking about ethics or cartoons. His appearance wasn't out of the ordinary. Plenty of Americans were trapped in Japan when the Miasma fell. But Alaska could tell that wasn't why her sister was staring.
"Sorry," mumbled Guam.
Mutsu lead them deeper into the compound, past another door guarded by rifle-toting MPs to yet another door. Well, actually a big set of double doors. Doors big enough that even Alaska could walk through without drama. She wasn't quite sure about Jersey though.
Mutsu leaned into the center and threw them open. "My shogun!" she crooned with heart-dripping earnestness. Her long coat fluttered in the sudden breeze and her skirt deftly sidestepped an oncoming panty shot."Our guests have arrived."
"Mutsu, you're my wife." At the other end of the room sat a man. His hair had gone a pure silver almost as stark as Alaska's snowy mane. His uniform was still recognizable as USN duty-dress blues, but only just. He'd clearly been around Mutsu long enough for countering her innate smugness to become instinct. Counter-teasing was a relex he did without thinking. "You can call me…"
Suddenly, he trailed off. His mind had fully detached from the mountains of paperwork half-hiding him behind his desk. He set a pen down with a clatter that echoed off the walls. Slowly he looked up. Haltingly at first, gingerly. As if he was worried that if he seemed too eager Alaska and her expedition would vanish before his eyes.
"So they are," he said at last. His voice was little more than a shaky murmur. His eyes started to glaze over and a shaky smile pushed its way onto his lips. Timidly at first, testing the waters before erupting into unpracticed joy. "So you are."
Alaska didn't have a lot of friends. Most of those she did have were friends she'd made on-base. Loosing Japan hurt her, but mostly because she saw the hurt in her friends' eyes. But this man… this American. For ten years he'd lost everything he'd ever known.
She coughed and took a step forward. She didn't have a clue what to say, but… her name was a start at least. "Captain Alaska Young." She snapped a hand to her brow in salute. "I offer greetings from the United States to the Iron shogun."
The man brought his shaking hands together in a steeple and laughed. "You're really…" He stopped for a second. "The Iron Shogun?"
Alaska nodded. "We got your message."
The man shook his head. "My name is Richardson. Admiral John Richardson. How did—" He glanced at Mutsu, who was busily making a point of admiring the light fixtures. "Why?"
Mutsu shrugged. "It amused me. Besides, just 'admiral' is too base a title for my husband."
The man—Richardson—shook his head with a smile. "It's good to see you all. To hear the country's still in one piece."
"Thank you, sir." said Alaska. "It's good to see you too. When we lost contact—"
"You feared the worst," Richardson nodded. "We did the same."
"Sir," Alaska coughed. "I've got a million questions, and I'm sure you do as well. I'd love to answer them, but it was a long trip and I've got a lot of thirsty oilers."
"No, of course." Richardson couldn't stop smiling. "We'll get you fed and taken care of. Mutsu?"
"Yes, my shogun." Mutsu bowed deeply from the waist while smiling smugly. "It shall be done."
Richardson ignored her. "Captain Young." He stopped for a moment and smiled wider as he put the pieces together. "Congratulations, first off. Would you and your staff dine with me tonight? Maybe we can answer some questions."
Alaska nodded. "I'd be honored." She paused, grabbed two fistfuls of her short skirt and dipped her hips in a curtsy. "My shogun."
Richardson somehow managed to smile and glate at his battleshipwife with one expression. "This is your fault."
Mutsu preened innocently. "This way~"
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Mutsu, you lovable, sexy troll. XD
A Song of Wolves and Hunters
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
You know nothing, Jon SnowJim Hunter.
[=]
Home seemed so far away nowadays, after the Fall. It was not the most well-regarded city on the planet, but Cleveland was where my heart was. Everything from the trails and canopies of the Cuyahoga to the exciting roller coasters of Cedar Point had fallen well out of reach. My father's humor, my mother's warmth, and my sister's brightness. All of it now little more than a distant memory.
My family no doubt feared me to be dead, with everything from the phone to the internet down, and not even rumors reaching them.
They'd be shocked to see me alive. Even more so to see me married, and with a pair of daughters to boot. Indeed, I could see them drawing, with crayons spread across the table, all while one of their raven-haired guardians stands watch, leaning in and asking them what they were making pictures of. Their small hands trace lines across the paper, and I could already see them pushing their creations in my face, excited and eager to be praised. Bless them.
Still, it still feels a little strange to be a father. Like many back home, I had planned to hold off until I could settle down. It was only now that things were starting to do so, after what felt like an eternity of struggle.
I feel a hand grab my shoulder, and turn around to find the brown eyes, and matching drapes, of my wife looking into me. She's smiling only slightly, far from the wide grins she got when excited, be that over the prospect of killing something, or stripping her clothes off and having a good time.
"You need something, Ash?" I ask, before letting out a low sigh, turning back to face our children.
"Just wondering how long you're gonna stand there looking at them," she replied. Her tone has a touch of impatience. Understandable, considering she liked to get things done. "They're your children, too."
Another sigh. "It's funny how after the better part of a decade, I still can't get used to this. Sometimes I wonder if I'm cut out for this sort of thing."
She turns me around, her eyes narrowing. "Don't doubt yourself," she chides me. "You stood up when nobody else seemed able to and led us to victory time and again. Remember that."
"Yeah." I turn back around, and walk up to the table. My two girls look up at me, smiles on their faces. "So, what'cha drawing?"
"Midori and I are drawing your house! Look!"
I grabbed the paper and held it up. For a drawing by a child, it was accurate enough to wrench my heart. A two-story Colonial, with each of us waving hello to it, and my parents and sister waving back. "This makes me wanna cry…" I tell them. Indeed, I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, before I wipe them away. "I hope to take you two there one day and meet grandma and grandpa, and let them stuff your bellies full of apple pie and pancakes."
I rub their heads, and they push in, wanting more. "Praise me!" Midori shouts. "I hope gramma praises me, too!"
"I'm sure she would," I tell them. Mom was a woman born of hardship, and dad born from hard work. If they knew how far I had come, and how much I had dealt with and endured…
I dismiss the thought, as I notice another drawing. It's of their mother, on the bow of a ship, smiling as the sun rises behind her. "Minami, is this something you did?" I ask. The younger of my daughters nods, as I take it in. Midori was slowly learning how to detail her drawings. Minami, meanwhile, was learning how to do lighting. Such bright minds at such a young age. It made me proud to know they had such a quality. "You and your sister are doing such wonderful jobs!"
"Thank you, papa!"
I can see a fang popping out as she smiles, just like her mother. Indeed, they took much after her, from each wave in their hair to the way their eyes sparkled when excited. The only thing from me was the fact that Midori needed glasses, and yet she was cute as a button regardless.
"Anyway, do you two want anything to eat?"
Midori shakes her head, while Minami shoots upright. "Curry! Gimme mama's curry!"
I couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Remember what to say," I gently chide her.
"Please!"
"Good girl."
Ash comes up and takes her hand, smiling. "Do you want to watch mama make her curry?"
"Yes! Please!" Minami bounces, wide-eyed and smiling like a lunatic.
I see those brown eyes look up towards me, and a smirk spreads across her face. "Curry isn't the only thing I'm hungry for~."
"Then what, mama?" Minami asks.
"Nothing you should be eating for a good, long while," Ash tells her before picking her up. "Goodness, you're getting heavy…"
Midori runs into the kitchen after them, no doubt wanting attention of her own, all while Ash's hips sway just so, and something told me she was doing it intentionally. I can feel their minder's eyes on me, however, and I turn to face her. "You need something?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing, though I suppose I lost today's competition."
I smile and shake my head. "Better luck next time, Myoukou."
A smile spreads across her face, as she tilts her head. "I'll be sure to win. My beloved sister isn't the only one who can appreciate a well-earned victory~." She leans in and kisses me on the cheek, letting out a soft laugh as she pulls back. "Oh, and I almost forgot to mention," she says, face growing more serious. "There is a new intelligence report from our submarines. Nothing concerning, but you should be aware regardless."
I sigh. "Thank you, Myoukou."
It also feels strange to have married her, too. But such was the norm, nowadays.
She walks off, and I head in the opposite direction. My office isn't too far away, repurposed from someone's room. Well, they won't miss it. The file in question sits on my desk as I unlock and open the door, before turning a light on. It's got the usual red 'CLASSIFIED' stamp on it, in both English and Katakana. Another sigh escapes me as I sit down, and open up the drawer, pulling out a shot glass and a bottle of vodka. It still even has the bow and note from Hibiki on it, the ex-Russian knowing that I, too, have a need for hard liquor these days.
'It may not be whiskey, but you should hopefully appreciate this, Admiral. It's part of the first batch I managed to distill. —Hibiki '
Vodka tastes like gasoline at the best of times, but it kept the handful of Russians here sane after whatever it is they saw over in Vladivostok. On the plus side, they brought lots and lots of 37mm cannons with them. Not quite Bofors guns, but the 70-Ks and V-11s were still leagues better than the Type-96 mounts.
I pour a shot out and down it a moment later, shuddering from the hard sting of the high-grade alcohol going down my throat. A few coughs escape me, before that warm and fuzzy feeling starts to overtake me. "God, you've made some powerful stuff, Hibiki," I mutter to myself. She knew I was more of a whiskey person, but hard drinks were still hard drinks, and she put a lot of thought and effort into making that bottle. She even hand-blew the glass.
Was it a sign of deep respect, or something more from her? I shake my head at the thought. She's not my type, anyway, age or not.
Opening up the folder, my eyes dart over the reports, including photos from the only long-range boat I had in my fleet. I-400 had amazing endurance and access to seaplanes for additional recon, but she was just one submarine, amidst a swarm of enemies converting the Aleutians into a fortress. I lacked the firepower to flush them out, and I let out a deep sigh. It was the fastest way home, and as such, the most dangerous. Hell, their ASW patrols were becoming increasingly frequent, which meant no chance of sending her to Anchorage, nevermind Seattle or Vancouver. All were probably under threat, too, which caused me to shudder. All of those poor people were in for a bad time unless I could muster a force to flush the bastards out.
Sometimes it felt like the universe itself wanted to keep me stuck here, too. The miasma, the enemy patrols, and my odd position as a glorified daimyo kept me from returning to the home I belonged at.
The whole thing caused me to open up a drawer, full of letters meant for my family. There was so much I wanted to tell them, so much I wanted to hear back, too. But I was no doubt dead to them, one of the billion souls, whose names I would never know, nor recite within my lifetime, sent to oblivion at the whims of some nebulous force.
I had written those letters once per month in the hopes that something could be sent across. But as the years dragged on, there was less and less of a point. "If only you knew," I sigh.
Closing the drawer, I look over the rest. One of the volcanoes on the Kamchatka Peninsula blew its top, burying a coastal town in ash. It was probably abandoned, anyway. Another suggested that the PRC, or what was left of it, was up to mad science experiments in the hopes of getting something useful. Their fleet had been expanding rapidly before the Fall, and anything left over there was probably picked clean and left to rust. What a pitiful fate.
Probably just a wild tale, though, told by some maddened officer or conspiracy theorist. The DDGs that had been lost weren't coming back, at least not anytime soon. Not ours, and not the PLAN's, either.
Meanwhile, Amagi and Katsuragi were to return today from training with the more experienced carriers. Looking out the window, I could faintly make out their forms, alongside the handful of escorts, in the evening sun. Haguro and Nachi were among them, the former expecting her first child in a few weeks. Even though she had a physical hull, I could still tell, even here, that she was pregnant. Nachi would no doubt have to help her, the weight of an unborn baby almost unbearable for the poor woman.
She was always a doll, with her pale complexion, faint voice, and a more lithe figure than her sisters. I never felt it wrong to marry her, even if she was more adorable than anything else. Still, she was happy to be a mother, and I'd love our child just as much as Midori and Minami.
My family would be surprised to see me married to someone like Ashigara. To learn that I married all three of her sisters and had children with two of those four women would no doubt cause them to lose their minds. Each of them was child-crazy, making me think of an old fanfiction's interpretation of Lilith— the word 'babies' playing somewhere in their minds over and over again, unceasing until that invisible force was finally sated.
At least they were understanding. They were effectively goddesses, and I a mere mortal they trusted. I could handle Midori and Minami well enough, and no doubt Haguro's child, too. But each report from Richardson's household made me wonder how he dealt with the… "Fuck, what was the last reported number of kids he had?" I quietly ask myself. I sigh and lean back in my chair. If each of them wanted to have a kid, that was fine. Being swamped by them was not so.
Still, though. No less than four or five battlewagons fell for him. The man was a trooper.
I put the file away and rise from my seat. I couldn't let Haguro pull into her berth without me welcoming her back. Indeed, she drew closer and closer, looking like she was about to capsize, even though she hadn't even been shot at.
A few minutes later, and I see the youngest Myōkō step off her hull, cradling her belly as Nachi rushes up to help her. Haguro wasn't the strongest of her sisters, and I could tell with the way she grips my shoulder that our child was taking a toll on her.
I turn my head to her, as she stares forward, eyes wide. "Is everything alright, Haguro?"
She lets out an exhausted-sounding breath, as she slowly steps forward. "I-I can barely do this w-while I have a baby in me," she pants. "Felt like I was gonna hurl…"
"Bad weather?"
I see Nachi poke her head forward, just as concerned for Haguro as I am. "It became windy and the waves kicked up a little. It was nothing too serious, but it appears that Haguro cannot sortie until she gives birth."
"Need food, too…" Haguro moans. I can hear her belly grumble, and while heavy cruisers didn't quite consume as much as a battleship, they still took a lot of feeding when running on empty. Her pregnancy certainly wasn't helping. "Feel like I could eat an entire fleet…"
I use my other hand to take hers and squeeze. "It's okay, Haguro. Ashigara is making curry. I'm sure she can whip up something for you, too."
"No curry. At least, n-not hers. Too spicy for me now."
"I know, I know," I tell her, letting a reassuring smile spread across my face. "Let's get you inside, first."
Our walk back to the building is slow, and onlookers just stare at her, awed at how someone could get like that. I couldn't help but wonder if I should call Akashi up here, and make sure that everything was in order. Ashigara wasn't nearly as bad as Haguro was, taking her pregnancies in stride, and even pride, too. Of course, she got a bit on the violent side while giving birth, and one of the doctors still bore physical scars from that ordeal. I doubt Haguro would nearly tear someone to shreds, but I was still concerned for her, knowing that this was her first time dealing with this.
Each breath of hers is heavy, and her chest heaves slightly with each step forward. As we approach the doors, I see the white-haired form of Hibiki rush up and prop them open, her icy eyes just as shocked as anyone else's.
"Does Haguro need any assistance, Admiral?"
"Just keep the door open, Hibiki!" I grunt. We're forced to use the wheelchair ramp as we make our way up and through the threshold, and as we enter, Hibiki falls in with us, ready to provide assistance at a moment's notice. I let go of Haguro and rub her head, and she lets a small smile form.
"No need to praise me, Admiral," she tells me. "However, I've managed to make some champagne for when Haguro gives birth. I've found the taste acceptable, as well."
"Good girl, Hibiki."
"In addition, Comrade Sverdlov reports that the fishing expedition to the Sea of Okhotsk has yielded a bountiful catch. They should be in tomorrow."
"Good," I reply. "Meteorologists are saying that this winter could get on the nasty side. We'll need all the food we can get if the bridges and ferries are cut off."
"Comrade Sverdlov has reported heavy snowstorms shortly before their departure, so they may be correct."
"Tell Ooyodo that we're going to need more road salt, then. Go."
She salutes, before diligently dashing off.
We eventually find a chair strong enough to support Haguro, and she slowly, gingerly takes a seat. She looks down at the bulge, and smiles, cradling it and running her hand along the curve. "I feel it kicking," she says with a happy-sounding sigh. I place my hand along hers, and can feel the little drumbeat impacts against her womb. "Our child is going to be a restless one. I can tell."
"Hopefully not as bad as what I hear about destroyer children," I remark, before squeezing her hand. Even the destroyers have matured, with a few deciding to settle down and marry. A few eyebrows had been raised, but most vanished when the kids came along. Shigure was the first of her kind I was aware of, and was perhaps the strongest mother I knew. "Remember what happened with Akigumo's kid?"
Haguro blushes at the memory. 'AuClou' had passed on some bad tendencies. "I hope we can do better."
"Same."
I sit next to her and wrap my arm around the back of her head, letting Haguro use it as a rest as she leans in. "I still can't think of a name, though."
"It'll come to you," I reassure her, running a few fingers through her hair. She didn't keep it as long as her sisters did, but that was fine.
I feel her turn her head, and our lips meet for but a moment, before she lets out a contented sigh. "I love you…"
"And I love you, too, Haguro," I reply. "You're a good, kind, thoughtful woman, and don't forget that."
A smile creeps across her face, as she closes her eyes and leans in harder, letting herself drift, all while I feel my heart skip a beat. She was at her most adorable like this, and I hoped to have such moments time and again.
The sound of footsteps echoes closer and closer, as I see Ashigara come in, her eyes widening somewhat. I put a finger to my lips, knowing Haguro needs the rest. She won't get much for a while.
The Hungry Wolf steps closer, as our lips meet, too, but she's a little firmer, and stays close for a little longer, her breath dancing across my skin before she pulls back. Her smile turns into a small frown, as I raise an eyebrow. She exhales, before allowing herself to speak. "I got a priority message from Admiral Richardson shortly after I was done cooking. He's requesting a summit for the house leaders, but has provided no details as to why."
While there was an annual summit, that was three months ago. I feel my body tense, knowing that this sort of thing doesn't happen often. "Something definitely happened."
"I can certainly smell it in the air," she replies, voice low. "I have a feeling we might have to make a much harder push to win this. I look forward to whatever victories we gain." A grin spreads across her face, but I feel more weary. She picks up on it, though, and she pulls me into a loose embrace. "Don't fret too much. We'll all make it. I promise."
"Yeah…"
I hadn't done this without my fair share of casualties. Ashigara herself was gravely wounded when she ran face first into an angry battlewagon, though her Long Lances made sure that it wouldn't finish the job. But my mind drifts towards those who went out and didn't make it back.
Kinu.
Matsukaze.
Hayanami.
Each was a precious resource that was no longer simply expendable. I hope I won't have to put more names on that shrine going forward.
[=]
Home seemed so far away nowadays, after the Fall. It was not the most well-regarded city on the planet, but Cleveland was where my heart was. Everything from the trails and canopies of the Cuyahoga to the exciting roller coasters of Cedar Point had fallen well out of reach. My father's humor, my mother's warmth, and my sister's brightness. All of it now little more than a distant memory.
My family no doubt feared me to be dead, with everything from the phone to the internet down, and not even rumors reaching them.
They'd be shocked to see me alive. Even more so to see me married, and with a pair of daughters to boot. Indeed, I could see them drawing, with crayons spread across the table, all while one of their raven-haired guardians stands watch, leaning in and asking them what they were making pictures of. Their small hands trace lines across the paper, and I could already see them pushing their creations in my face, excited and eager to be praised. Bless them.
Still, it still feels a little strange to be a father. Like many back home, I had planned to hold off until I could settle down. It was only now that things were starting to do so, after what felt like an eternity of struggle.
I feel a hand grab my shoulder, and turn around to find the brown eyes, and matching drapes, of my wife looking into me. She's smiling only slightly, far from the wide grins she got when excited, be that over the prospect of killing something, or stripping her clothes off and having a good time.
"You need something, Ash?" I ask, before letting out a low sigh, turning back to face our children.
"Just wondering how long you're gonna stand there looking at them," she replied. Her tone has a touch of impatience. Understandable, considering she liked to get things done. "They're your children, too."
Another sigh. "It's funny how after the better part of a decade, I still can't get used to this. Sometimes I wonder if I'm cut out for this sort of thing."
She turns me around, her eyes narrowing. "Don't doubt yourself," she chides me. "You stood up when nobody else seemed able to and led us to victory time and again. Remember that."
"Yeah." I turn back around, and walk up to the table. My two girls look up at me, smiles on their faces. "So, what'cha drawing?"
"Midori and I are drawing your house! Look!"
I grabbed the paper and held it up. For a drawing by a child, it was accurate enough to wrench my heart. A two-story Colonial, with each of us waving hello to it, and my parents and sister waving back. "This makes me wanna cry…" I tell them. Indeed, I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, before I wipe them away. "I hope to take you two there one day and meet grandma and grandpa, and let them stuff your bellies full of apple pie and pancakes."
I rub their heads, and they push in, wanting more. "Praise me!" Midori shouts. "I hope gramma praises me, too!"
"I'm sure she would," I tell them. Mom was a woman born of hardship, and dad born from hard work. If they knew how far I had come, and how much I had dealt with and endured…
I dismiss the thought, as I notice another drawing. It's of their mother, on the bow of a ship, smiling as the sun rises behind her. "Minami, is this something you did?" I ask. The younger of my daughters nods, as I take it in. Midori was slowly learning how to detail her drawings. Minami, meanwhile, was learning how to do lighting. Such bright minds at such a young age. It made me proud to know they had such a quality. "You and your sister are doing such wonderful jobs!"
"Thank you, papa!"
I can see a fang popping out as she smiles, just like her mother. Indeed, they took much after her, from each wave in their hair to the way their eyes sparkled when excited. The only thing from me was the fact that Midori needed glasses, and yet she was cute as a button regardless.
"Anyway, do you two want anything to eat?"
Midori shakes her head, while Minami shoots upright. "Curry! Gimme mama's curry!"
I couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Remember what to say," I gently chide her.
"Please!"
"Good girl."
Ash comes up and takes her hand, smiling. "Do you want to watch mama make her curry?"
"Yes! Please!" Minami bounces, wide-eyed and smiling like a lunatic.
I see those brown eyes look up towards me, and a smirk spreads across her face. "Curry isn't the only thing I'm hungry for~."
"Then what, mama?" Minami asks.
"Nothing you should be eating for a good, long while," Ash tells her before picking her up. "Goodness, you're getting heavy…"
Midori runs into the kitchen after them, no doubt wanting attention of her own, all while Ash's hips sway just so, and something told me she was doing it intentionally. I can feel their minder's eyes on me, however, and I turn to face her. "You need something?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing, though I suppose I lost today's competition."
I smile and shake my head. "Better luck next time, Myoukou."
A smile spreads across her face, as she tilts her head. "I'll be sure to win. My beloved sister isn't the only one who can appreciate a well-earned victory~." She leans in and kisses me on the cheek, letting out a soft laugh as she pulls back. "Oh, and I almost forgot to mention," she says, face growing more serious. "There is a new intelligence report from our submarines. Nothing concerning, but you should be aware regardless."
I sigh. "Thank you, Myoukou."
It also feels strange to have married her, too. But such was the norm, nowadays.
She walks off, and I head in the opposite direction. My office isn't too far away, repurposed from someone's room. Well, they won't miss it. The file in question sits on my desk as I unlock and open the door, before turning a light on. It's got the usual red 'CLASSIFIED' stamp on it, in both English and Katakana. Another sigh escapes me as I sit down, and open up the drawer, pulling out a shot glass and a bottle of vodka. It still even has the bow and note from Hibiki on it, the ex-Russian knowing that I, too, have a need for hard liquor these days.
'It may not be whiskey, but you should hopefully appreciate this, Admiral. It's part of the first batch I managed to distill. —Hibiki '
Vodka tastes like gasoline at the best of times, but it kept the handful of Russians here sane after whatever it is they saw over in Vladivostok. On the plus side, they brought lots and lots of 37mm cannons with them. Not quite Bofors guns, but the 70-Ks and V-11s were still leagues better than the Type-96 mounts.
I pour a shot out and down it a moment later, shuddering from the hard sting of the high-grade alcohol going down my throat. A few coughs escape me, before that warm and fuzzy feeling starts to overtake me. "God, you've made some powerful stuff, Hibiki," I mutter to myself. She knew I was more of a whiskey person, but hard drinks were still hard drinks, and she put a lot of thought and effort into making that bottle. She even hand-blew the glass.
Was it a sign of deep respect, or something more from her? I shake my head at the thought. She's not my type, anyway, age or not.
Opening up the folder, my eyes dart over the reports, including photos from the only long-range boat I had in my fleet. I-400 had amazing endurance and access to seaplanes for additional recon, but she was just one submarine, amidst a swarm of enemies converting the Aleutians into a fortress. I lacked the firepower to flush them out, and I let out a deep sigh. It was the fastest way home, and as such, the most dangerous. Hell, their ASW patrols were becoming increasingly frequent, which meant no chance of sending her to Anchorage, nevermind Seattle or Vancouver. All were probably under threat, too, which caused me to shudder. All of those poor people were in for a bad time unless I could muster a force to flush the bastards out.
Sometimes it felt like the universe itself wanted to keep me stuck here, too. The miasma, the enemy patrols, and my odd position as a glorified daimyo kept me from returning to the home I belonged at.
The whole thing caused me to open up a drawer, full of letters meant for my family. There was so much I wanted to tell them, so much I wanted to hear back, too. But I was no doubt dead to them, one of the billion souls, whose names I would never know, nor recite within my lifetime, sent to oblivion at the whims of some nebulous force.
I had written those letters once per month in the hopes that something could be sent across. But as the years dragged on, there was less and less of a point. "If only you knew," I sigh.
Closing the drawer, I look over the rest. One of the volcanoes on the Kamchatka Peninsula blew its top, burying a coastal town in ash. It was probably abandoned, anyway. Another suggested that the PRC, or what was left of it, was up to mad science experiments in the hopes of getting something useful. Their fleet had been expanding rapidly before the Fall, and anything left over there was probably picked clean and left to rust. What a pitiful fate.
Probably just a wild tale, though, told by some maddened officer or conspiracy theorist. The DDGs that had been lost weren't coming back, at least not anytime soon. Not ours, and not the PLAN's, either.
Meanwhile, Amagi and Katsuragi were to return today from training with the more experienced carriers. Looking out the window, I could faintly make out their forms, alongside the handful of escorts, in the evening sun. Haguro and Nachi were among them, the former expecting her first child in a few weeks. Even though she had a physical hull, I could still tell, even here, that she was pregnant. Nachi would no doubt have to help her, the weight of an unborn baby almost unbearable for the poor woman.
She was always a doll, with her pale complexion, faint voice, and a more lithe figure than her sisters. I never felt it wrong to marry her, even if she was more adorable than anything else. Still, she was happy to be a mother, and I'd love our child just as much as Midori and Minami.
My family would be surprised to see me married to someone like Ashigara. To learn that I married all three of her sisters and had children with two of those four women would no doubt cause them to lose their minds. Each of them was child-crazy, making me think of an old fanfiction's interpretation of Lilith— the word 'babies' playing somewhere in their minds over and over again, unceasing until that invisible force was finally sated.
At least they were understanding. They were effectively goddesses, and I a mere mortal they trusted. I could handle Midori and Minami well enough, and no doubt Haguro's child, too. But each report from Richardson's household made me wonder how he dealt with the… "Fuck, what was the last reported number of kids he had?" I quietly ask myself. I sigh and lean back in my chair. If each of them wanted to have a kid, that was fine. Being swamped by them was not so.
Still, though. No less than four or five battlewagons fell for him. The man was a trooper.
I put the file away and rise from my seat. I couldn't let Haguro pull into her berth without me welcoming her back. Indeed, she drew closer and closer, looking like she was about to capsize, even though she hadn't even been shot at.
A few minutes later, and I see the youngest Myōkō step off her hull, cradling her belly as Nachi rushes up to help her. Haguro wasn't the strongest of her sisters, and I could tell with the way she grips my shoulder that our child was taking a toll on her.
I turn my head to her, as she stares forward, eyes wide. "Is everything alright, Haguro?"
She lets out an exhausted-sounding breath, as she slowly steps forward. "I-I can barely do this w-while I have a baby in me," she pants. "Felt like I was gonna hurl…"
"Bad weather?"
I see Nachi poke her head forward, just as concerned for Haguro as I am. "It became windy and the waves kicked up a little. It was nothing too serious, but it appears that Haguro cannot sortie until she gives birth."
"Need food, too…" Haguro moans. I can hear her belly grumble, and while heavy cruisers didn't quite consume as much as a battleship, they still took a lot of feeding when running on empty. Her pregnancy certainly wasn't helping. "Feel like I could eat an entire fleet…"
I use my other hand to take hers and squeeze. "It's okay, Haguro. Ashigara is making curry. I'm sure she can whip up something for you, too."
"No curry. At least, n-not hers. Too spicy for me now."
"I know, I know," I tell her, letting a reassuring smile spread across my face. "Let's get you inside, first."
Our walk back to the building is slow, and onlookers just stare at her, awed at how someone could get like that. I couldn't help but wonder if I should call Akashi up here, and make sure that everything was in order. Ashigara wasn't nearly as bad as Haguro was, taking her pregnancies in stride, and even pride, too. Of course, she got a bit on the violent side while giving birth, and one of the doctors still bore physical scars from that ordeal. I doubt Haguro would nearly tear someone to shreds, but I was still concerned for her, knowing that this was her first time dealing with this.
Each breath of hers is heavy, and her chest heaves slightly with each step forward. As we approach the doors, I see the white-haired form of Hibiki rush up and prop them open, her icy eyes just as shocked as anyone else's.
"Does Haguro need any assistance, Admiral?"
"Just keep the door open, Hibiki!" I grunt. We're forced to use the wheelchair ramp as we make our way up and through the threshold, and as we enter, Hibiki falls in with us, ready to provide assistance at a moment's notice. I let go of Haguro and rub her head, and she lets a small smile form.
"No need to praise me, Admiral," she tells me. "However, I've managed to make some champagne for when Haguro gives birth. I've found the taste acceptable, as well."
"Good girl, Hibiki."
"In addition, Comrade Sverdlov reports that the fishing expedition to the Sea of Okhotsk has yielded a bountiful catch. They should be in tomorrow."
"Good," I reply. "Meteorologists are saying that this winter could get on the nasty side. We'll need all the food we can get if the bridges and ferries are cut off."
"Comrade Sverdlov has reported heavy snowstorms shortly before their departure, so they may be correct."
"Tell Ooyodo that we're going to need more road salt, then. Go."
She salutes, before diligently dashing off.
We eventually find a chair strong enough to support Haguro, and she slowly, gingerly takes a seat. She looks down at the bulge, and smiles, cradling it and running her hand along the curve. "I feel it kicking," she says with a happy-sounding sigh. I place my hand along hers, and can feel the little drumbeat impacts against her womb. "Our child is going to be a restless one. I can tell."
"Hopefully not as bad as what I hear about destroyer children," I remark, before squeezing her hand. Even the destroyers have matured, with a few deciding to settle down and marry. A few eyebrows had been raised, but most vanished when the kids came along. Shigure was the first of her kind I was aware of, and was perhaps the strongest mother I knew. "Remember what happened with Akigumo's kid?"
Haguro blushes at the memory. 'AuClou' had passed on some bad tendencies. "I hope we can do better."
"Same."
I sit next to her and wrap my arm around the back of her head, letting Haguro use it as a rest as she leans in. "I still can't think of a name, though."
"It'll come to you," I reassure her, running a few fingers through her hair. She didn't keep it as long as her sisters did, but that was fine.
I feel her turn her head, and our lips meet for but a moment, before she lets out a contented sigh. "I love you…"
"And I love you, too, Haguro," I reply. "You're a good, kind, thoughtful woman, and don't forget that."
A smile creeps across her face, as she closes her eyes and leans in harder, letting herself drift, all while I feel my heart skip a beat. She was at her most adorable like this, and I hoped to have such moments time and again.
The sound of footsteps echoes closer and closer, as I see Ashigara come in, her eyes widening somewhat. I put a finger to my lips, knowing Haguro needs the rest. She won't get much for a while.
The Hungry Wolf steps closer, as our lips meet, too, but she's a little firmer, and stays close for a little longer, her breath dancing across my skin before she pulls back. Her smile turns into a small frown, as I raise an eyebrow. She exhales, before allowing herself to speak. "I got a priority message from Admiral Richardson shortly after I was done cooking. He's requesting a summit for the house leaders, but has provided no details as to why."
While there was an annual summit, that was three months ago. I feel my body tense, knowing that this sort of thing doesn't happen often. "Something definitely happened."
"I can certainly smell it in the air," she replies, voice low. "I have a feeling we might have to make a much harder push to win this. I look forward to whatever victories we gain." A grin spreads across her face, but I feel more weary. She picks up on it, though, and she pulls me into a loose embrace. "Don't fret too much. We'll all make it. I promise."
"Yeah…"
I hadn't done this without my fair share of casualties. Ashigara herself was gravely wounded when she ran face first into an angry battlewagon, though her Long Lances made sure that it wouldn't finish the job. But my mind drifts towards those who went out and didn't make it back.
Kinu.
Matsukaze.
Hayanami.
Each was a precious resource that was no longer simply expendable. I hope I won't have to put more names on that shrine going forward.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Oh no, Roy Mustang finally took over, didn't he?
I'd say, to win over a shipgirl as his wife....
Oh? A cameo by theJMPer?
Oh no, it can't be.....
Settle? That you man?
Then that means Hate is what, the resident Gensui or something like that?
Oh. So much for that theory.
"Uh, about that...."
"Captain Young...."
"How attached were you to Florida again?"
Nolrai
weak to fangs
- Location
- Porltand
"These goth-crocodiles are annoying, kind of cute, but annoying."
Daily Life of a Battleship Wife
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
[=]
"I wish we could sit and chat like this more, Hamakaze. My, it only seemed like yesterday that little Ayako was taking her first steps. Now's she's running all over the place." Kentucky giggled as she watched her four youngest children play tag with Ayako from the specially built park table she was sitting at. It was a nice clear day in San Juan,a gentle but steady breeze blew in from the harbor: perfect conditions for tag.
While her daughters were two years older and a fair bit taller than Ayako, Hamakaze's daughter was quite the speedy one herself! Though Kentucky figured Ayako being able to turn much better than her identical quadruplets and being just about as quick as them despite being shorter than them was keeping their game very interesting.
"TAG! YOU'RE IT!" came Ayako's piercing shout as she darted away from Naomi. As Naomi ran after Mercedes, Wendy and Isabel ran with Ayako to hopefully give Naomi someone other than the silver haired Ayako to go after should she chose to stop pursuing Mercedes.
Kentucky looked away from the kids and back to Hamakaze, noticing that the Kagerou was looking at the kids playing fondly. However Kentucky noticed that there was a bit of sadness in Hamakaze's smile. "So how has Raphael been?" The battle wagon asked.
"He's doing fine. Work has kept him at the office late at night more often nowadays...so I don't get to see him home as much as before." Hamakaze said with a sad sigh. Without thinking of it, Kentucky raised one of her arms and easily reached across the reinforced picnic table to pat the silver haired Kagerou on the head.
"Kentucky, stop that, I'm not a kid anymore!" Hamakaze whined but made no attempt to get out from under the Iowa's touch. For all the ways Hamakaze had grown and changed, she still enjoyed a good head pat. Kentucky couldn't help but giggle. It sounded more like a chuckle with her dusky contralto voice, as she ceased with the head pat and returned to watching the kids play tag.
"Hey, Kentucky, can I ask you something?" Hamakaze quietly asked.
"Sure, Hama, you can ask me anything." Kentucky replied, bringing her attention back to the Kagerou who looked concerned – scared even. In a instant the soft smile on the Iowa's face vanished and was replaced by a slight frown, her mirrored aviators were the only thing that kept the intensity of her silver-eyed gaze in check.
Hamakaze sat there silent for a moment before finally speaking. "If—if the attempt to contact the mainland… If it's successful, if there's anyone left—would they still recognize us? Would we still recognize them? W-who knows what could have happened in the last ten years." She said before lightly biting the bottom of her lip.
"Would they still even remember us?" Hamakaze asked in a voice so quiet that Kentucky almost didn't hear her over the gentle breeze. Almost.
In a blink of an eye, Kentucky stood up and stepped around to the otherside of the park table before dropping to a knee and wrapping Hamakaze up in a hug. Letting go only when she felt the Kagerou relax. Kentucky gave Hamakaze a warm smile as she took off her aviators.
"Hamakaze I assure you that everyone back in the States still remembers us. I'm also certain, just like how my husband is, that the rest of the Continental United States is still standing." Kentucky said reassuringly to Hamakaze, who looked better than a few moments prior but still had some lingering uncertainty in her eyes. After another moment though, that lingering uncertainty faded away and her smile returned in full.
"Thank you Kentucky." Hamakaze said before giving the Iowa a hug, though her arms couldn't reach all the way around the battleship's rather impressive figure.
"No problem Hama." Kentucky said softly before checking her watch and promptly doing a double take at the time. "Oh my, it's already time to pick up Samantha and Johnathan from School?" Kentucky said as Hamakaze released the hug and they both stood up.
"Ayako! Come on Sweetie, it's time to go home!" The Kagerou bellowed out as loudly as she could, but it seemed none of the kids could hear her over the ruckus and noise their play was generating. Hamakaze sighed and looked over to Kentucky "Kentucky could you..."
"Sure thing Hamakaze." Kentucky said before drawing in a breath. "Naomi, Wendy, Mercedes, Isabel. It's time to go pick up Johnathan and Samantha from School." Kentucky shouted loud and clear. Her quadruplets and Ayako stopped what they were doing instantly upon hearing the battleship's dusky contralto rumble across the park.
[=]
After they said their goodbyes to one another, Kentucky took the kids to the 'car'. Really it was a heavily modified 2 and half ton 6x6 someone had found some years back. However it worked well enough as the family car. Kentucky was glad that she figured out how to ride or drive something that wasn't one of those ten ton heavy transports without breaking them immediately around six years ago.
As the girls messed around with the radio, Kentucky did the occasional side glances out of the widow. The rebuilding of the city, was coming along nice however Kentucky couldn't help but frown slightly as she drove past cleared flats of land that a decade ago used to be businesses, houses, and all the other fixtures of a bustling city.
Most of the carnage from that awful night had been cleared away or patched up but some reminders lingered on even now a decade later. A Hillside pockmarked with dents. The stumps of broken, burned and splintered trees laying off of the side of some of the roads she drove down. Some of the buildings she drove past still bore the pockmarks of rifle and fragmentation impact on their facades.
Though Kentucky took solace in the fact that the roads and other critical pieces of infrastructure were the first things that had been rebuilt after that night. Seabees were miracle workers on that front. However the lack of certain resources in quantity meant reconstruction had been painfully slow on everything that wasn't high priority. Nevertheless though the people here, her fellow countrymen had persisted in rebuilding what had been torn down a decade ago.
Before she could dwell on it any further the sight of a Humvee pulling out snapped Kentucky from her thoughts. Her foot moved for the break and lightly tapped it. Though the other vehicle was far enough away that she didn't have to slam the breaks. However, when she saw the Humvee fishtail and almost spin out before recovering and rocketing down the road. Kentucky knew exactly who it was.
Seeing the Humvee take a corner fast enough to go on two wheels and yet not crash. Double confirmed what the Battleship already knew, that was Northampton. A moment later it registered to the kids who it was ahead of them. "Mama Mama! That was Auntie Hamp! That was Auntie Hamp right?!" Came the excited voices of her four identical daughters.
"Yes Girls, that was Auntie Hamp." Kentucky said while rubbing one hand on the side of her face. Though she kept one eye and a few lookouts trained on the road ahead of her. Of all the things that had changed in the last ten years, Northampton's maniac driving wasn't one of them. Though it did become more sane when Northampton had her kids with her, but not by terribly much.
"Can we stay over at Auntie Hamp's place tonight after dinner? Can we, can we?!" Naomi pleaded with the infamous 'Destroyer eyes'. If she got the rest of her sisters on making the expression...Kentucky wasn't sure if she'd be able to say no to them.
"Yeah can we?! I heard Auntie Hamp got Ben and Joe some awesome skateboards!" Wendy said with a smile of anticipation and excitement on her face.
"Please mommy?" Mercedes simply asked, not yet resorting to using destroyer eyes but from what Kentucky's lookouts called out, she was ready to switch to them in a heartbeat.
"Alright Girls, you can stay over at Auntie Hamp's place tonight after dinner." Kentucky said, yielding to the demands of her daughters. Though she noticed that Isabel hadn't said anything, in fact she appeared almost-worried about something.
Seeing that the school was up ahead, Kentucky started slowing down as traffic would be somewhat congested here. However she did turn slightly to get a better look at Isabel. "Isabel sweetie, is something the matter?" The motherly Battleship asked. Which caused the other three quadruplets to bring their attention to their sister.
Isabel was silent for a few seconds before speaking up. "I'm just worried about Daddy. He seems to be so...stressed about things lately." Isabel said. Almost right away the rest of her sisters adopted the same worried expression.
After she pulled up to the curb and placed the truck in park, Kentucky turned in her seat and pulled her quadruplet daughters up into a hug.
The four hugged their mother back as hard as their tiny bodies could. Their faces pressed against the battle wagon's firm but also soft tummy.
"Don't worry girls I'll take care of Daddy." Kentucky said reassuringly to the quadruplets. She couldn't hear their responses for their faces were still pressed against her midsection but she felt them relax. After one more light squeeze Kentucky released her daughters from the hug. They settled back down in the seats, though Naomi opened the door as she saw her two elder Siblings approach the car.
"Thanks Naomi!" Samantha said as she tossed her backpack in before climbing in herself. The eldest daughter paused long enough to ruffle Naomi's Strawberry Blonde hair. Naomi tried to return the favor and ruffle Samantha's Russet hair but the eldest daughter kept her younger sibling at bay with her longer arms.
Johnathan climbed into the cabin next and closed the door behind him. Kentucky reached over and ruffled her son and eldest child's milk chocolate brown hair for a couple moments before moving on to ruffle Samantha's hair. "So how was school?" Kentucky asked her older two kids as she pulled the truck out of park before starting the drive home.
"It was okay." Johnathan said simply. Though Kentucky suspected that he wasn't telling her the entire truth. However from the slight smile that her son tried and failed to hide, she figured it wasn't something that she had to worry about.
"Bah, It was boring! Math's Boring! Though Mrs. Wilkins History class was awesome!" Samantha loudly proclaimed. Her younger sisters then began asking her all sorts of questions about her history class.This continued on for the rest of the drive home. Though Wendy started asking Johnathan questions about why he was smiling the way he was.
The rest of his sisters joined in on the questioning and soon came to the conclusion that their older brother had kissed a girl he liked. Johnathan tried to deny it, but he wasn't very convincing when it came to hiding his feelings about people he liked. Much like his father.
[=]
While six in the afternoon was a bit early to have dinner to some. For Kentucky it was a fair bit of a necessity given the appetites of the kids, not to mention her own. Though the house Staff did have something ready for Kentucky when she had returned home with the kids at three. A part of her always felt a little guilty eating a meal before dinner and before the kids. However they all understood very well how important it was that their mama had her fuel bunkers topped off and her supplies and magazines restocked.
Though one benefit Kentucky saw of the pre-dinner meal was that when dinner came around she could actual enjoy a relatively normal sized meal with her family. She always treasured simple family moments like that.
After Dinner, it was a simple matter of calling Northampton up to ask her if she'd be willing to watch the kids for the night. She would, and the Heavy cruiser gave Kentucky some...advice on what she should try with William tonight. That left the Iowa a blushing mess for a few minutes but the advice was recorded in her ship log.
A little over half an hour passed before Northampton pulled into the driveway and took the kids for a sleepover back at her house. While Kentucky had loved the last week she spent with her kids. She did want to spend some time with her Husband before her leave was over.
Speaking of her husband, he had returned to his office after dinner. Kentucky couldn't blame William for doing what he did, a lot of people depended on him. Though Kentucky also knew that he needed to take it easy sometimes, especially now.
After helping the house staff clean up the kitchen before dismissing them for the night. Kentucky made her way to her Husbands office and entered.
Seeing that he had a small forest of paperwork on his desk was the norm but this one looked like he was almost through dealing with. Kentucky sashayed around to the otherside of the desk and leaned down to better see what William was looking at. That her rather generous bosom ended up resting on his head was merely coincidental and was no way intentional on her end. Not at all.
"What's this honey?" Kentucky asked while looking at the paper William was signing off on. While part of her sorta disliked that William's hair had started turning grey a few years back. Another part of her though was impressed that the extent of the graying was only concentrated in a small band around his temples.
"A request for a bombardment mission on what was Otra Banda. Colonel Hate's Force Recon Marines found what looks like to be a major Abyssal operations base. He's requesting for you to and I quote 'Erase these Abyssal Motherfuckers from the face of the fucking Earth.'" William said in an impressive impression of the Colonel's seemingly constantly angry voice as he finished the paperwork before setting it and the pen aside.
Kentucky couldn't help but chuckle darkly for a minute. Though after a minute she settled down and just smiled. "It'll be good as done. Anything else I should know?" Kentucky asked.
"Yes dear. Gearing, Allan M. Summer and Squadron 9 will be yer escorts. After that fire support mission is concluded. You're to meet with Flint, Wichita and Squadron 3 at the designated rendezvous point their mission had specified. They'll come back with news on the status of the mainland... with luck and maybe a bit of praying. They'll have a supply Convoy and reinforcements with them, if they don't though..." William trailed off before sighing.
Kentucky placed her hands on either side of William's head and gently massaged his temples with her fingertips. This time a more content sigh passed the Governor-Admiral's lips. "Thank you Kentucky. I needed that."
"No problem William~" Kentucky said before helping William out of his chair. Well more like picking him out of his chair and setting him on his feet anyways.
Kentucky giggled as her husband embraced and began to slowly danced with her. Her hips bumping up against his as they swayed side to side. After a couple minutes he dipped her down before bring his lips to hers to signify the end of their dance. The fact that William was able to do such a feat even once. Let alone do it every time they had slow danced for the last ten years always made Kentucky breakdown in a fit of giggles.
"So Love...would you like to take this to the bedroom?" Kentucky asked with a mischievous smile after he stood her back up. While she'd be content with just cuddling with William for the rest of the night. Kentucky wanted to do something a bit more fun.
"Why yes dear~" William said before gently caressing the underside of Kentucky's chin with a hand. Kentucky took William's hand and they hurried off together to the master bedroom. Making sure to close the door all the way behind them when they entered.
Kentucky was glad for a great many things in her second life. One of the things she was very glad for was the heavy duty soundproofing that was built into the walls of the master bedroom.
At least she wouldn't have to worry about keeping half of San Juan up all night, again.
[=]
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I have some sad news regarding the 2nd World War.
We lost the sailor from the famous Times Square picture. Remember, the V-J Day one?
We lost the sailor from the famous Times Square picture. Remember, the V-J Day one?
SeismicGuide
The Quakiest of Quakebotes
- Location
- A usually Warm, Southern state of the US
Last edited:
Fleet In Being
Lady Darkhound
Haha, tanks!
- Location
- My very own personal hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Lieutenant Kaidan Dunning sighed deeply as he stared blankly at the pile of paperwork on his desk. His lovely secretary had sorted it all into "High Priority" or by what type of paperwork it was, but that didn't make the task of working his way through it any less daunting, even if some of it only needed a signature.
The Lord of House Dunning reached for his mug, only to find that it was missing his requisite afternoon green tea.
"Some days I really regret being the highest ranking officer to survive that mess." Kaidan muttered, standing to go refill his drink. "Can't be seen getting my own drink, can't be seen relaxing and reading a good book, and I most certainly can't be seen by most everyone running a good RPG. Bloody unreasonable standards."
As Dunning approached the door to his study, it opened inward. HMS Curacoa entered, bedecked in her usual maid attire and with a pot of tea held gingerly in one hand.
"Oh! Milord!" Curacoa said, bowing slightly while not letting the tea spill. "I have refreshments."
"Thank you, Coco." Kaidan replied, offering up his mug.
Coco poured the sustaining liquid with a smile. "Does milord require anything else?"
"Yes, actually. I need a moment of your time. I was planning on talking to you about this later, but now is as good a time as any."
"Oh?" Curacoa paused, and looked curiously at Lord Dunning.
"Please, take a seat. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes." Kaidan said, returning to his desk and sipping at the piping hot tea. Curacoa gingerly sat in one of the spare chairs, setting the teapot down atop a hastily produced doily.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence in the room as Kaidan figured out what he wanted to say.
"Coco, I want you back on active duty."
"Milord?" Curacoa asked. "But I'm obsolete as a cruiser."
"You are obsolete. Built a generation before our next oldest cruiser. But right now, the fleet doesn't have many cruisers left. With Belfast and Sirius up north, and Argonaut stuck in Sasebo until repairs are completed, we're down to just five cruisers. We need all hands on deck."
"I understand milord. When would you like me to begin?"
"In the next three days, if you would." Kaidan said.
"Understood milord. I will make sure that Sarah is ready to-" Curacoa was cut off by the screams and shouts of a pair of young girls rushing into the study.
"Daddy! Daddy, they're here!" Olivia and Nadia Dunning yelled as they burst through the door.
"Easy girls. Who's here?" Kaidan asked, scooping up his twin daughters in a hug.
"The fleet!" Nadia replied.
"Miss Norfolk said that you wanted to know when they came back." Olivia tacked on.
"Thank you girls. Coco, do you mind handling the girls while I go meet the fleet? I need to talk with their mother about House business."
"Aww…" Nadia and Olivia complained in unison.
"It'll only be a short while, then you two can go see her." Kaidan said, releasing his daughters.
"Okay!" The twins cheered.
"I can handle them milord. Please come along young Ladies." Curacoa said sweetly, leaving the room with the girls in tow.
It wasn't often that Kaidan had the time to welcome the fleet back at the dock itself. The business of running a House was often more than enough to eat all of his time. It was an unfortunate fact of life that business took precedence over pleasure.
Today, however, was special. The coastal patrol was returning to Kure, and Kaidan had every intention of greeting them. One battlecruiser, three cruisers of mixed size, and half a dozen destroyers all coming into harbor in a neat and orderly fashion. Even if shipgirls didn't have a full sized hull while at sea, it would still be an awe-inspiring sight.
As he walked down the slight hill towards the docks, Kaidan saw the first of the girls disembarking. Repulse was at the front of the line, and the battlecruiser dashed forward to greet him.
"Welcome back!" Kaidan said with a smile. "Anything to report?"
"It's good to be back, milord. As fun as being at sea is, I'd much rather have my comfy bed up in the Keep, and maybe a warm body to share it with." Repulse replied with a curtsey and her classic mischievous grin.
Kaidan rolled his eyes. "I'm taken and you know that. Do you have a report for me?"
"Aye, sir. We caught a pair of scouts trying to sneak in from the south. We sank one, but the other slipped back into the Miasma before I could sink her. Additionally, the Miasma is pushing up near the Bungo Channel. Looks to be a sign of another potential raid or invasion."
"We caught that too. If Indomitable hadn't pointed it out, we might have missed it here." Kaidan commented, stroking his chin.
"It's worrying, but we should be able to help the closer fleets if it does go bad." Repulse said, tapping her foot against the concrete.
"Agreed. I'll be sure to mention it in my letters to the other Lords. Anything else?"
"No sir!" Repulse said. "Unless you have something for me…"
"In that case, go herd the destroyers up to the Keep and get everyone cleaned up. Nora and Coco are putting on a feast tonight."
Repulse looked at Dunning curiously, before her eyes brightened. "Oh! Today's your anniversary, isn't it!"
"That it is. Please handle the destroyers while I see to my beloved, will you?"
"Will do, boss!" Repulse said, snapping a smart salute and turning on her heel.
As Repulse turned, the gaggle of destroyers ran past. Saumarez yelled "Tag, you're it!" as she tapped one of her friends on the back and then dashed ahead of the group, laughing all the while.
Kaidan smiled at their antics as Repulse took off in an attempt to catch and corral them. The destroyers had all grown up over the past decade, and it was nice to see that they still got up to their usual destroyerly antics that had slowly faded away with age.
The Lord of House Dunning then waved as Achilles and Euryalus walked past. "Nora and Coco are putting on a feast tonight. Get yourselves cleaned up and in order please!" He shouted over the din of laughing destroyers.
Euryalus grinned and waved back, while Achilles just kept talking her ear off about something. Kaidan's attention was swept away from the pair before he could catch whatever follow-up the Dido might have had.
Lord Dunning's full attention was grabbed by the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon. "Ah, the Lady Exeter! The most beautiful of sunsets pales in comparison to your beauty! The seas have sent their wretched abominations after humanity because they were jealous of the beauty you exude! If it were not for the emerald of your eyes which steady and entrance me, I would be shaken and forced to bow before your glory!"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, milord." Exeter said as she approached.
"How I have missed you! The days seem longer, and the nights colder while you are away, my love!" Kaidan said, embracing the love of his life in a tight hug.
"I've missed you too, Kaidan. Now please stop waxing poetic. You're not a poet. You can't rhyme all of the time on a dime, and your rhythm is atrocious." Exeter grinned, returning the hug full force. "You came out to meet us at the docks today."
"I did. It's our anniversary, and I wanted to be the first to welcome you home."
"Then I'm glad you came out, milord. I have an anniversary gift for you. I had it made in my machine shops while on patrol."
"Oh?" Kaidan asked, releasing the hug to look Exeter in the eye.
The heavy cruiser smiled, and pulled a simple box from her hold. "I made you a ring. It's just a simple band, but it's made of steel scraped from from my hull, melted and reforged."
Indeed, that was all the ring was. Kaidan opened the box to reveal the simple metal band. No gems intruded on it's polished steel. The ring's simplicity did not at all detract from its beauty.
"I love it, dear. Thank you. I'll put it with the other one, and hold both close to my heart." Kaidan said, accepting the box and fishing out his necklace with their wedding ring. "Unfortunately, my gift to you is still inside. I'm saving it for the feast that Nora and Coco are putting on."
"I understand, love."
"Thank you. Now, there's one thing I want to mention before we go in and see everyone. I got approval from Richardson for our short vacation to Sasebo, but there's some House business to attend to while we're there too."
"Should we discuss after supper?" Exeter asked.
"Aye. After we put Olivia and Nadia to bed. Now, let's go say hello to our lovely daughters. They have missed you, you know."
Exeter laughed as the two walked towards the Keep, hand in hand.
Well after a filling dinner and time spent with the family, Kaidan and Exeter retired to the Lord's study, deep within House Dunning's Keep. Exeter wore the beautiful light brown dress that Kaidan had given her, while Kaidan had switched from his stuffy uniform to a much more comfortable polo and slacks.
"So, House business to attend to in Sasebo?" Exeter asked, reclining slightly in her chair.
"Yeah. The letter we got back from him was very basic in approving our trip, while mentioning that he wished to see us for some unspecified House business. Annoying, but not exactly uncommon." Kaidan replied.
"Are you sure you want to go down to Sasebo with the Miasma so close to shore? Surely we can wait a week to see if it disperses."
"Normally, I'd agree with you. But I intend to ask for some reinforcements while we're there."
"Really?"
"Yes. Right now, we're more of a fleet in being than an actual fleet that can sortie and fight. We have two capital ships, plus a bedridden carrier. Five cruisers available, including Curacoa. One and a half destroyer squadrons. No submarine recon forces. Right now, House Dunning cannot put up a significant fight. With the Miasma pushing closer to shore, we need numbers to be able to fight."
"That's… I was unaware of how badly off we are."
"Can't say I blame you. I just hope that Nora can keep Wales and Repulse more or less on track with Indy bedridden right now. Can't have everyone fawning over Olivia and Nadia when there's a potential Abyssal attack soon."
"That would be bad. Maybe Leander will return from her trip to Korea and whip everyone into shape?" Exeter asked hopefully.
"I doubt Lea will be back so soon. That stick up her ass means she won't be coming back until her work is done, and last I heard, Korea was still a huge mess." Kaidan shook his head.
"Bloody hell..."
"Yeah. But, we shouldn't focus too hard onto the politics of staying neutral while being a coherent fighting force. Tonight is our anniversary. It's about you and I."
"You're right, love. Do you have something planned?"
"Just a little something." Kaidan smiled, pulling a bottle of red wine from his depleted liquor cabinet.
"Oh wow. A new dress and a precious drink? You're pulling out all the stops tonight." Exeter commented as Kaidan grabbed a pair of wine glasses.
"Of course I am. If we're walking away from a potential attack for a week, I'd rather not have any regrets about the love of my life." Kaidan said. He set the two glasses down on his desk, removed the cork from the bottle and poured.
"Here's to us." Exeter intoned, taking her glass, and raising it in a toast.
"To us."
The Lord of House Dunning reached for his mug, only to find that it was missing his requisite afternoon green tea.
"Some days I really regret being the highest ranking officer to survive that mess." Kaidan muttered, standing to go refill his drink. "Can't be seen getting my own drink, can't be seen relaxing and reading a good book, and I most certainly can't be seen by most everyone running a good RPG. Bloody unreasonable standards."
As Dunning approached the door to his study, it opened inward. HMS Curacoa entered, bedecked in her usual maid attire and with a pot of tea held gingerly in one hand.
"Oh! Milord!" Curacoa said, bowing slightly while not letting the tea spill. "I have refreshments."
"Thank you, Coco." Kaidan replied, offering up his mug.
Coco poured the sustaining liquid with a smile. "Does milord require anything else?"
"Yes, actually. I need a moment of your time. I was planning on talking to you about this later, but now is as good a time as any."
"Oh?" Curacoa paused, and looked curiously at Lord Dunning.
"Please, take a seat. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes." Kaidan said, returning to his desk and sipping at the piping hot tea. Curacoa gingerly sat in one of the spare chairs, setting the teapot down atop a hastily produced doily.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence in the room as Kaidan figured out what he wanted to say.
"Coco, I want you back on active duty."
"Milord?" Curacoa asked. "But I'm obsolete as a cruiser."
"You are obsolete. Built a generation before our next oldest cruiser. But right now, the fleet doesn't have many cruisers left. With Belfast and Sirius up north, and Argonaut stuck in Sasebo until repairs are completed, we're down to just five cruisers. We need all hands on deck."
"I understand milord. When would you like me to begin?"
"In the next three days, if you would." Kaidan said.
"Understood milord. I will make sure that Sarah is ready to-" Curacoa was cut off by the screams and shouts of a pair of young girls rushing into the study.
"Daddy! Daddy, they're here!" Olivia and Nadia Dunning yelled as they burst through the door.
"Easy girls. Who's here?" Kaidan asked, scooping up his twin daughters in a hug.
"The fleet!" Nadia replied.
"Miss Norfolk said that you wanted to know when they came back." Olivia tacked on.
"Thank you girls. Coco, do you mind handling the girls while I go meet the fleet? I need to talk with their mother about House business."
"Aww…" Nadia and Olivia complained in unison.
"It'll only be a short while, then you two can go see her." Kaidan said, releasing his daughters.
"Okay!" The twins cheered.
"I can handle them milord. Please come along young Ladies." Curacoa said sweetly, leaving the room with the girls in tow.
~~~~~~~~~~
It wasn't often that Kaidan had the time to welcome the fleet back at the dock itself. The business of running a House was often more than enough to eat all of his time. It was an unfortunate fact of life that business took precedence over pleasure.
Today, however, was special. The coastal patrol was returning to Kure, and Kaidan had every intention of greeting them. One battlecruiser, three cruisers of mixed size, and half a dozen destroyers all coming into harbor in a neat and orderly fashion. Even if shipgirls didn't have a full sized hull while at sea, it would still be an awe-inspiring sight.
As he walked down the slight hill towards the docks, Kaidan saw the first of the girls disembarking. Repulse was at the front of the line, and the battlecruiser dashed forward to greet him.
"Welcome back!" Kaidan said with a smile. "Anything to report?"
"It's good to be back, milord. As fun as being at sea is, I'd much rather have my comfy bed up in the Keep, and maybe a warm body to share it with." Repulse replied with a curtsey and her classic mischievous grin.
Kaidan rolled his eyes. "I'm taken and you know that. Do you have a report for me?"
"Aye, sir. We caught a pair of scouts trying to sneak in from the south. We sank one, but the other slipped back into the Miasma before I could sink her. Additionally, the Miasma is pushing up near the Bungo Channel. Looks to be a sign of another potential raid or invasion."
"We caught that too. If Indomitable hadn't pointed it out, we might have missed it here." Kaidan commented, stroking his chin.
"It's worrying, but we should be able to help the closer fleets if it does go bad." Repulse said, tapping her foot against the concrete.
"Agreed. I'll be sure to mention it in my letters to the other Lords. Anything else?"
"No sir!" Repulse said. "Unless you have something for me…"
"In that case, go herd the destroyers up to the Keep and get everyone cleaned up. Nora and Coco are putting on a feast tonight."
Repulse looked at Dunning curiously, before her eyes brightened. "Oh! Today's your anniversary, isn't it!"
"That it is. Please handle the destroyers while I see to my beloved, will you?"
"Will do, boss!" Repulse said, snapping a smart salute and turning on her heel.
As Repulse turned, the gaggle of destroyers ran past. Saumarez yelled "Tag, you're it!" as she tapped one of her friends on the back and then dashed ahead of the group, laughing all the while.
Kaidan smiled at their antics as Repulse took off in an attempt to catch and corral them. The destroyers had all grown up over the past decade, and it was nice to see that they still got up to their usual destroyerly antics that had slowly faded away with age.
The Lord of House Dunning then waved as Achilles and Euryalus walked past. "Nora and Coco are putting on a feast tonight. Get yourselves cleaned up and in order please!" He shouted over the din of laughing destroyers.
Euryalus grinned and waved back, while Achilles just kept talking her ear off about something. Kaidan's attention was swept away from the pair before he could catch whatever follow-up the Dido might have had.
Lord Dunning's full attention was grabbed by the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon. "Ah, the Lady Exeter! The most beautiful of sunsets pales in comparison to your beauty! The seas have sent their wretched abominations after humanity because they were jealous of the beauty you exude! If it were not for the emerald of your eyes which steady and entrance me, I would be shaken and forced to bow before your glory!"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, milord." Exeter said as she approached.
"How I have missed you! The days seem longer, and the nights colder while you are away, my love!" Kaidan said, embracing the love of his life in a tight hug.
"I've missed you too, Kaidan. Now please stop waxing poetic. You're not a poet. You can't rhyme all of the time on a dime, and your rhythm is atrocious." Exeter grinned, returning the hug full force. "You came out to meet us at the docks today."
"I did. It's our anniversary, and I wanted to be the first to welcome you home."
"Then I'm glad you came out, milord. I have an anniversary gift for you. I had it made in my machine shops while on patrol."
"Oh?" Kaidan asked, releasing the hug to look Exeter in the eye.
The heavy cruiser smiled, and pulled a simple box from her hold. "I made you a ring. It's just a simple band, but it's made of steel scraped from from my hull, melted and reforged."
Indeed, that was all the ring was. Kaidan opened the box to reveal the simple metal band. No gems intruded on it's polished steel. The ring's simplicity did not at all detract from its beauty.
"I love it, dear. Thank you. I'll put it with the other one, and hold both close to my heart." Kaidan said, accepting the box and fishing out his necklace with their wedding ring. "Unfortunately, my gift to you is still inside. I'm saving it for the feast that Nora and Coco are putting on."
"I understand, love."
"Thank you. Now, there's one thing I want to mention before we go in and see everyone. I got approval from Richardson for our short vacation to Sasebo, but there's some House business to attend to while we're there too."
"Should we discuss after supper?" Exeter asked.
"Aye. After we put Olivia and Nadia to bed. Now, let's go say hello to our lovely daughters. They have missed you, you know."
Exeter laughed as the two walked towards the Keep, hand in hand.
~~~~~~~~~~
Well after a filling dinner and time spent with the family, Kaidan and Exeter retired to the Lord's study, deep within House Dunning's Keep. Exeter wore the beautiful light brown dress that Kaidan had given her, while Kaidan had switched from his stuffy uniform to a much more comfortable polo and slacks.
"So, House business to attend to in Sasebo?" Exeter asked, reclining slightly in her chair.
"Yeah. The letter we got back from him was very basic in approving our trip, while mentioning that he wished to see us for some unspecified House business. Annoying, but not exactly uncommon." Kaidan replied.
"Are you sure you want to go down to Sasebo with the Miasma so close to shore? Surely we can wait a week to see if it disperses."
"Normally, I'd agree with you. But I intend to ask for some reinforcements while we're there."
"Really?"
"Yes. Right now, we're more of a fleet in being than an actual fleet that can sortie and fight. We have two capital ships, plus a bedridden carrier. Five cruisers available, including Curacoa. One and a half destroyer squadrons. No submarine recon forces. Right now, House Dunning cannot put up a significant fight. With the Miasma pushing closer to shore, we need numbers to be able to fight."
"That's… I was unaware of how badly off we are."
"Can't say I blame you. I just hope that Nora can keep Wales and Repulse more or less on track with Indy bedridden right now. Can't have everyone fawning over Olivia and Nadia when there's a potential Abyssal attack soon."
"That would be bad. Maybe Leander will return from her trip to Korea and whip everyone into shape?" Exeter asked hopefully.
"I doubt Lea will be back so soon. That stick up her ass means she won't be coming back until her work is done, and last I heard, Korea was still a huge mess." Kaidan shook his head.
"Bloody hell..."
"Yeah. But, we shouldn't focus too hard onto the politics of staying neutral while being a coherent fighting force. Tonight is our anniversary. It's about you and I."
"You're right, love. Do you have something planned?"
"Just a little something." Kaidan smiled, pulling a bottle of red wine from his depleted liquor cabinet.
"Oh wow. A new dress and a precious drink? You're pulling out all the stops tonight." Exeter commented as Kaidan grabbed a pair of wine glasses.
"Of course I am. If we're walking away from a potential attack for a week, I'd rather not have any regrets about the love of my life." Kaidan said. He set the two glasses down on his desk, removed the cork from the bottle and poured.
"Here's to us." Exeter intoned, taking her glass, and raising it in a toast.
"To us."
Omake: Ronnie the carrier
Lady Darkhound
Haha, tanks!
- Location
- My very own personal hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Ronnie the Carrier
++++++++++
It was a quiet day aboard the USS Ronald Reagan. Quieter than usual, anyway. Today was the fourth anniversary of her last battle against the Abyss before she was declared irreparable, and repurposed as a floating power generator for Yokosuka.
For those who remained aboard tending to her reactors, today was a quiet day of remembrance for the fallen. Four destroyers, one cruiser, a battleship shot within an inch of her life, one guided missile destroyer, one beloved admiral. Too many had been lost that day.
If today was a quiet day of remembrance for her crew, it was a day of sorrow for Ronnie. She had failed them. One of her catapults had worn out in the opening stages of the battle, and left her crippled offensively. The others had been the focus of wave after wave of Abyssal kamikazes, and it too had failed when she needed it most. In the span of five hours, the greatest weapons platform this side of the Pacific had been reduced to a floating target.
She had pleaded with an admiral who couldn't see her to retreat from the battle. Haruna had already been forced to retire due to terrible battle damage, and the battleship's absence had left a hole open in her AA screen. The admiral never heard her pleas, and instead ordered his carrier into harm's way to take the brunt of the damage off of Musashi and the other battleships.
It had been the last order he ever gave, as long-range gunfire from an Abyssal battleship hiding within the Miasma had sheared off half of her bridge with a well placed salvo. Ronnie blamed herself for not being able to protect him.
That had been four years ago. The massive Nimitz-class carrier had sat in port for four years, her crew stripped to the bare minimum needed to keep her reactors running and the rest of her hull from falling apart. What few planes remained in her arsenal had been moved to shore based installations.
"Chief Engineer Boggs-san!" A voice from her flight deck drew the attention of the dejected ship spirit. Battleship Kongou, Lady of the House Kongou, was waving over a familiar face, that of the grumpy Johnathan Boggs.
"Lady Kongou." Boggs replied as Ronnie ghosted her way over to spectate the conversation. "I have that report you requested."
"Very good, dess!" The battleship cheered.
"Unfortunately not. I'm sure you're aware of how our lady Gipper isn't gonna be fighting any time soon unless we magically get a parts dump from back home. It's worse than that." The old engineer shook his head sadly.
"Oh?" Kongou tilted her head almost comically, and Ronnie stifled a giggle as to not alert the battleship of her ghostly presence.
"Both bow cats are busted beyond repair, and even if we had the spare parts to fix 'em, the deck warped where those kamikazes hit. The angle deck ones are worse. She'd need a full rebuild to make sure the cats worked properly. The portside elevator is just gone, and I don't we'll ever have the parts to replace it here. Sternmost starboard elevator is jammed halfway between her hangar and flight deck, and looks pretty darn rusted into place. Her bridge is still a damn mess, and even if we scavenged parts from Izumo, I don't think we could get her flight ops totally up and running. She's got a dozen holes of various sizes in her deck that need filling with material we just don't have on hand. And that's all just flight deck and up."
The battleship shook her head gravely. "Walk with me, Boggs-san. There is something I want to show you back in my office."
"Ma'am?" Boggs asked, following as Kongou turned on her heel and started marching towards the gangplank. Ronnie followed as they passed her hiding spot near her ruined island, but was forced to stay aboard as the two hit the gangplank.
"Survey teams in China found a cache of steel, and I am going to dedicate all of it to getting Ronnie-san operational." Kongou explained, her voice fading off as Ronnie strained her ears to hear the end of the conversation.
"But ma'am, raw steel isn't enough. We don't have the parts to fix dozens of things across all decks, hell, we don't even have the templates to build those parts." Boggs replied vehemently, pausing mid-stride to gesticulate.
"Boggs-san, we found the wreck of the Liaoning." To the young carrier spirit, it was barely a whisper. But that whisper brought a glimmer of hope that she would cling to with the strength provided by two of the most powerful nuclear reactors ever put to sea.
Following the revelation that they might be able to repair her, Ronnie had dashed away. Bulkheads had shifted away just slightly as she ran, peals of silent laughter echoing, though only the most attentive shipgirls could hear it.
She was going to be repaired! For six years, she had ruled the open airspace around Japan. Anything not covered by the Miasma was her territory. When she had fallen to Abyssal attacks, she had lost that control, but it would be hers again!
Ronnie was one of the most advanced carriers in the world, and where she sailed, she demanded attention and respect. When the Abyss first rose, she had fought and won every battle within range of her fleet. Where lesser carriers had fallen under enemy fire, or to unexpected torpedoes, she had stood strong.
For hours after the brief meeting on her deck between her Admiral-battleship and her chief engineer, Ronnie expressed her joy through any means she could. Reactor output rose slightly, her pumps worked more efficiently, and rust chipped away from jammed mechanical parts all over her hull. She ran and jumped and yelled her heart out, bursting with a joyous energy she hadn't felt since the last time she had spent time with her sisters.
Eventually though, she calmed down. Repairs would not take place overnight, she wouldn't miraculously be able to fight the next day, the next week, or even the next month. Maybe not even for a year, depending on how things went. As cooler heads prevailed, Ronnie retreated back into her hull. The admiral's shore office was a very respected place in her hull, and most avoided the place to not offend the spirit of The Old Man.
The carrier spirit knew he didn't mind if she spent her time there. It was one place where the ship spirit knew she could express herself, and she felt more solid in the room. Maybe it had something to do with the artwork she had made with supplies procured by Lady Kongou which was all hidden away under a loose board in the admiral's bed frame.
Maybe the simple drawings with wax crayons wasn't "artwork" in a professional or traditional sense, but Ronnie didn't have much skill to do more. The lasting damage to her bridge had screwed up her coordination, and she found that even simple art was harder for her to create, let alone stuff like the painting hung above the bed.
Ronnie wouldn't let shaky hands and rough lines stop her from doing something that she loved though. Today, she pulled out a rectangular piece of paper and three very specific crayons. An image appeared in her mind as she started designing a draft of what might be her new battle flag. A rising sun, but with a blue roundel in the middle and a single white star centered on the page.
Three sharp raps on the door drew the carrier spirit's attention away from the very crude flag she had created.
"Hello?" Ronnie called. She wasn't expecting anyone to come by. Most of the shipgirls on the base couldn't see her, and those that could didn't drop by often. Except for Lady Kongou, but she should still be busy with ChEng Boggs.
"Ronnie-san, good news dess!" Kongou said as she burst into the room.
"Miss Kongou?" Ronnie asked, turning to face the taller battleship.
"Do you want to be able to fight again?" asked the name ship of the Kongou-class battleships.
"I… yes!" Ronnie replied, deciding to not fake her emotions with the perceptive shipgirl.
"Good! A survey team came back from China earlier this week, and they found something that could help fix your deck and let you fight again. Nothing to repair your catapults unfortunately, but we can fix your flight deck, and give you a ski-ramp to get you fighting."
"A ski ramp?" The young carrier asked curiously, idly scratching at one of the bandages on her arm.
"Dess!" Kongou nodded furiously. "They found the wreck of the Liaoning, from back when China abandoned her in the Yangtze. Badly damaged, but intact enough that we can scrap her to fix you!"
"But Lady Kongou, what would Nim or Vinny think of me if I went home with a pov - er, ski ramp?" Ronnie visibly flinched at the idea of a ski ramp. It was not a fun prospect to consider.
"Ronnie-san, your sisters would be elated that you survived so long on your own, and they would be eternally grateful to have you back." Kongou said, her face suddenly dropping from 'elated' to 'dead serious.'
"I…" Ronnie looked away, suddenly very nervous.
"You don't have to decide yet, Ronnie-san. You may never have to make such a decision. But Chief Engineer Boggs-san is looking into a remodel for you using parts from Liaoning. He expects the survey and design process to take at least three months, plus however long it takes to scrap the Liaoning where she is at and haul the steel back to Japan."
"How long do you think it will take to put me back into the fight?"
"Eighteen months to two years, I think. Maybe more, dess." Kongou replied with a shrug.
"I will have to think on this, Kongou-sama."
"Okay dess! I won't give Boggs-san the go ahead until you say okay."
"Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" Ronnie exclaimed, jumping forward and embracing the battleship in a hug.
"You're very welcome, Ronnie-san. Now, what is this you were drawing?"
"Oh! This is a flag I was drawing. Japan's rising sun, but American!" Ronnie said, sitting back down and showing Kongou the drawing. The young carrier smiled proudly as the battleship admired her work, and they sat there for some time, just talking and taking a break from the war and the politics surrounding it.
When Kongou left the room some hours later, not a trace remained of her companion. The bandaged but cheerful young girl was gone, as were her art supplies and the various results of the girl's artistic talents. All that remained in the room was a masterful portrait of the beloved admiral hanging above the bed.
++++++++++
It was a quiet day aboard the USS Ronald Reagan. Quieter than usual, anyway. Today was the fourth anniversary of her last battle against the Abyss before she was declared irreparable, and repurposed as a floating power generator for Yokosuka.
For those who remained aboard tending to her reactors, today was a quiet day of remembrance for the fallen. Four destroyers, one cruiser, a battleship shot within an inch of her life, one guided missile destroyer, one beloved admiral. Too many had been lost that day.
If today was a quiet day of remembrance for her crew, it was a day of sorrow for Ronnie. She had failed them. One of her catapults had worn out in the opening stages of the battle, and left her crippled offensively. The others had been the focus of wave after wave of Abyssal kamikazes, and it too had failed when she needed it most. In the span of five hours, the greatest weapons platform this side of the Pacific had been reduced to a floating target.
She had pleaded with an admiral who couldn't see her to retreat from the battle. Haruna had already been forced to retire due to terrible battle damage, and the battleship's absence had left a hole open in her AA screen. The admiral never heard her pleas, and instead ordered his carrier into harm's way to take the brunt of the damage off of Musashi and the other battleships.
It had been the last order he ever gave, as long-range gunfire from an Abyssal battleship hiding within the Miasma had sheared off half of her bridge with a well placed salvo. Ronnie blamed herself for not being able to protect him.
That had been four years ago. The massive Nimitz-class carrier had sat in port for four years, her crew stripped to the bare minimum needed to keep her reactors running and the rest of her hull from falling apart. What few planes remained in her arsenal had been moved to shore based installations.
"Chief Engineer Boggs-san!" A voice from her flight deck drew the attention of the dejected ship spirit. Battleship Kongou, Lady of the House Kongou, was waving over a familiar face, that of the grumpy Johnathan Boggs.
"Lady Kongou." Boggs replied as Ronnie ghosted her way over to spectate the conversation. "I have that report you requested."
"Very good, dess!" The battleship cheered.
"Unfortunately not. I'm sure you're aware of how our lady Gipper isn't gonna be fighting any time soon unless we magically get a parts dump from back home. It's worse than that." The old engineer shook his head sadly.
"Oh?" Kongou tilted her head almost comically, and Ronnie stifled a giggle as to not alert the battleship of her ghostly presence.
"Both bow cats are busted beyond repair, and even if we had the spare parts to fix 'em, the deck warped where those kamikazes hit. The angle deck ones are worse. She'd need a full rebuild to make sure the cats worked properly. The portside elevator is just gone, and I don't we'll ever have the parts to replace it here. Sternmost starboard elevator is jammed halfway between her hangar and flight deck, and looks pretty darn rusted into place. Her bridge is still a damn mess, and even if we scavenged parts from Izumo, I don't think we could get her flight ops totally up and running. She's got a dozen holes of various sizes in her deck that need filling with material we just don't have on hand. And that's all just flight deck and up."
The battleship shook her head gravely. "Walk with me, Boggs-san. There is something I want to show you back in my office."
"Ma'am?" Boggs asked, following as Kongou turned on her heel and started marching towards the gangplank. Ronnie followed as they passed her hiding spot near her ruined island, but was forced to stay aboard as the two hit the gangplank.
"Survey teams in China found a cache of steel, and I am going to dedicate all of it to getting Ronnie-san operational." Kongou explained, her voice fading off as Ronnie strained her ears to hear the end of the conversation.
"But ma'am, raw steel isn't enough. We don't have the parts to fix dozens of things across all decks, hell, we don't even have the templates to build those parts." Boggs replied vehemently, pausing mid-stride to gesticulate.
"Boggs-san, we found the wreck of the Liaoning." To the young carrier spirit, it was barely a whisper. But that whisper brought a glimmer of hope that she would cling to with the strength provided by two of the most powerful nuclear reactors ever put to sea.
++++++++++
Following the revelation that they might be able to repair her, Ronnie had dashed away. Bulkheads had shifted away just slightly as she ran, peals of silent laughter echoing, though only the most attentive shipgirls could hear it.
She was going to be repaired! For six years, she had ruled the open airspace around Japan. Anything not covered by the Miasma was her territory. When she had fallen to Abyssal attacks, she had lost that control, but it would be hers again!
Ronnie was one of the most advanced carriers in the world, and where she sailed, she demanded attention and respect. When the Abyss first rose, she had fought and won every battle within range of her fleet. Where lesser carriers had fallen under enemy fire, or to unexpected torpedoes, she had stood strong.
For hours after the brief meeting on her deck between her Admiral-battleship and her chief engineer, Ronnie expressed her joy through any means she could. Reactor output rose slightly, her pumps worked more efficiently, and rust chipped away from jammed mechanical parts all over her hull. She ran and jumped and yelled her heart out, bursting with a joyous energy she hadn't felt since the last time she had spent time with her sisters.
Eventually though, she calmed down. Repairs would not take place overnight, she wouldn't miraculously be able to fight the next day, the next week, or even the next month. Maybe not even for a year, depending on how things went. As cooler heads prevailed, Ronnie retreated back into her hull. The admiral's shore office was a very respected place in her hull, and most avoided the place to not offend the spirit of The Old Man.
The carrier spirit knew he didn't mind if she spent her time there. It was one place where the ship spirit knew she could express herself, and she felt more solid in the room. Maybe it had something to do with the artwork she had made with supplies procured by Lady Kongou which was all hidden away under a loose board in the admiral's bed frame.
Maybe the simple drawings with wax crayons wasn't "artwork" in a professional or traditional sense, but Ronnie didn't have much skill to do more. The lasting damage to her bridge had screwed up her coordination, and she found that even simple art was harder for her to create, let alone stuff like the painting hung above the bed.
Ronnie wouldn't let shaky hands and rough lines stop her from doing something that she loved though. Today, she pulled out a rectangular piece of paper and three very specific crayons. An image appeared in her mind as she started designing a draft of what might be her new battle flag. A rising sun, but with a blue roundel in the middle and a single white star centered on the page.
Three sharp raps on the door drew the carrier spirit's attention away from the very crude flag she had created.
"Hello?" Ronnie called. She wasn't expecting anyone to come by. Most of the shipgirls on the base couldn't see her, and those that could didn't drop by often. Except for Lady Kongou, but she should still be busy with ChEng Boggs.
"Ronnie-san, good news dess!" Kongou said as she burst into the room.
"Miss Kongou?" Ronnie asked, turning to face the taller battleship.
"Do you want to be able to fight again?" asked the name ship of the Kongou-class battleships.
"I… yes!" Ronnie replied, deciding to not fake her emotions with the perceptive shipgirl.
"Good! A survey team came back from China earlier this week, and they found something that could help fix your deck and let you fight again. Nothing to repair your catapults unfortunately, but we can fix your flight deck, and give you a ski-ramp to get you fighting."
"A ski ramp?" The young carrier asked curiously, idly scratching at one of the bandages on her arm.
"Dess!" Kongou nodded furiously. "They found the wreck of the Liaoning, from back when China abandoned her in the Yangtze. Badly damaged, but intact enough that we can scrap her to fix you!"
"But Lady Kongou, what would Nim or Vinny think of me if I went home with a pov - er, ski ramp?" Ronnie visibly flinched at the idea of a ski ramp. It was not a fun prospect to consider.
"Ronnie-san, your sisters would be elated that you survived so long on your own, and they would be eternally grateful to have you back." Kongou said, her face suddenly dropping from 'elated' to 'dead serious.'
"I…" Ronnie looked away, suddenly very nervous.
"You don't have to decide yet, Ronnie-san. You may never have to make such a decision. But Chief Engineer Boggs-san is looking into a remodel for you using parts from Liaoning. He expects the survey and design process to take at least three months, plus however long it takes to scrap the Liaoning where she is at and haul the steel back to Japan."
"How long do you think it will take to put me back into the fight?"
"Eighteen months to two years, I think. Maybe more, dess." Kongou replied with a shrug.
"I will have to think on this, Kongou-sama."
"Okay dess! I won't give Boggs-san the go ahead until you say okay."
"Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" Ronnie exclaimed, jumping forward and embracing the battleship in a hug.
"You're very welcome, Ronnie-san. Now, what is this you were drawing?"
"Oh! This is a flag I was drawing. Japan's rising sun, but American!" Ronnie said, sitting back down and showing Kongou the drawing. The young carrier smiled proudly as the battleship admired her work, and they sat there for some time, just talking and taking a break from the war and the politics surrounding it.
When Kongou left the room some hours later, not a trace remained of her companion. The bandaged but cheerful young girl was gone, as were her art supplies and the various results of the girl's artistic talents. All that remained in the room was a masterful portrait of the beloved admiral hanging above the bed.
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