thor8797
Canadian Sterotype
True I didn't specify continent though. I just found the fact that 1 ship and 7 guys was an official navy.
To expand on landlocked navies: Navies of landlocked countries - Wikipedia
Kantai Collection - Fanfic Idea and Recs
- Thread starter sasahara17
- Start date
To expand on landlocked navies: Navies of landlocked countries - Wikipedia
ColdGoldLazarus
Contrary Quester, Spreadsheet Queen, Pink Flamingo
- Location
- Challenger Deep
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I was looking back through some older posts of mine, and was reminded of an idea I'd posited without really planning to pursue. And now I've gone and pursued it. I'm going to regret this in the morning, I just know it:
Hawaii was in a bind.
The Black Fog of the Abyss, the Miasma, the Shroud… whatever you cared to call it, had covered the Pacific ocean for over a year now, and continued to surround the island state; no matter which direction you cared to look, that oppressive blackness tainted the horizon.
It was not for lack of effort on the shipgirls' part that this was the case; without the presence of Missouri and Saratoga, among others, there was little doubt that the islands would have been overrun entirely, and it was through their hard work that the Shroud had been pushed back as far as it had.
But regardless, while coolheaded leadership, good agriculture, and the benefit of experience from a prior similar incident had carried them this far, it was becoming increasingly clear that unless they opened a path to San Diego soon, the islands would not last. They needed more heavy hitters, and resources were dwindling. Perhaps it was time to seek out alternate options…
---
"Permission to speak, sir," Commander Hopper asked, watching as several crates marked 'Caution! Sensitive Materials' and 'Top Secret' were wheeled into the summoning chamber.
Admiral Shane didn't respond at first, watching the junior officers unload the crates with an intense glare. It was only after they were gone again that he answered, albeit grudgingly. "Permission granted."
"With all due respect, sir... this is a really, really bad idea. This probably won't even work, and if it does, there's so much else that could go wrong. They might not even speak our language. They'd probably attack us on sight. And when Zapata hears about this, he's going to be on my ass about the wasted samples."
"You don't have to worry about that last one; I talked directly to him about it. He said his team had already gotten everything they could from these." Despite not having the proper background himself, the eccentric astronomer had assembled and led a team of scientists with the singular purpose of studying the debris from the incident back in 2012. To say he was protective of the samples dredged up from the sea was an understatement, and Hopper wondered if Shane had had to exercise his infamous Neeson-esque intimidation tactics to wrestle these away.
That didn't answer Hopper's other concerns, but he held his tongue; the Admiral still wasn't terribly fond of him, and it was clear he'd made up his mind about the plan; to push the issue at this point would be futile and counterproductive. He just hoped this wouldn't end poorly for them, or heaven forbid, give the Abyssals a powerful new ally.
And as memories of his brother flashed through his mind, Hopper wondered if he was just as afraid of what would happen if this plan went right.
Soon enough, the crates had been pried open, and a motley collection of artifacts, from large hexagonal panels and thick cables, to dozens of smaller pieces of equipment the Commander couldn't even begin to guess at the nature or purpose of, were set down beside a respectably large stack of fuel, ammo, steel, and bauxite. The more traditional materials also had Hopper a bit worried, both in that this was some of the last of it they had, and the possibility that the mixture may create problems.
There was a knock on the door behind them. "Come on in, Saratoga." Shane said blandly, and a certain strawberry blonde entered the room, her flight deck held aloft and ready. "I hope we won't need you, but in this case… well, you've been briefed." The carrier nodded, her usual flirtatious grin tempered by a touch of worry and a healthy dose of determination.
So the Admiral had thought this through. And of course, Hopper realized, this was being done while Missouri was away on sortie; if anything would cause problems with this plan, it would be her. Not for the first time and likely not for the last, the commander suddenly felt a bit self-conscious and regretted speaking out of turn.
At least it was a step forward from how he'd been a few years ago. The person he'd been back then wouldn't even have cared. The person he'd been back then wasn't living in a world where aliens and monsters were real and present threats.
"We're ready to begin the summoning, sir." an officer reported.
"Good," Shane responded. "Saratoga, at the ready. Everyone else, begin the ceremony."
---
Time flowed strangely during summonings. There was always a sensation of weightlessness, as though floating in the sea, and those present would see events, memories, like images overlaid over the present reality. They were identifiably historical, but never had anyone experienced this with events so recent.
Hopper saw a war, a civil war on a dark and damp planet lightyears away. So much anger, so much burning. And then peace, an awkward, unsteady thing as weapons of war were haphazardly converted to vessels of exploration. He saw darkness, the vast emptiness of space, and heard a message received mid-travel. He saw the ocean, a familiar ocean, and fire as a comrade was torn away in freefall.
And he saw himself. No, not himself; his ship. A game of cat-and-mouse amongst an unfamiliar archipelago, and a retaliatory strike after five turned into four were further whittled down. And the final confrontation; an old ship, clearly a veteran of her own wars, sailing triumphant as the frightened newcomer sunk below alien waves.
And standing before him were four new girls, alien and yet all-too-familiar.
The one in front, her eyes a scathing orange and her hair a dark metallic shade, trembled as she looked down at herself, lifting up pale yet pink and very distinctly human hands. She saw the reflection of her narrow face, entirely absent of quills, and let out a low moan that turned into a terrified shriek.
She was alien, yet strangely familiar, too, in ways she shouldn't be. "You... natives. What have you done to me?" She spat in perfect english, leaving everyone else present speechless.
The Black Fog of the Abyss, the Miasma, the Shroud… whatever you cared to call it, had covered the Pacific ocean for over a year now, and continued to surround the island state; no matter which direction you cared to look, that oppressive blackness tainted the horizon.
It was not for lack of effort on the shipgirls' part that this was the case; without the presence of Missouri and Saratoga, among others, there was little doubt that the islands would have been overrun entirely, and it was through their hard work that the Shroud had been pushed back as far as it had.
But regardless, while coolheaded leadership, good agriculture, and the benefit of experience from a prior similar incident had carried them this far, it was becoming increasingly clear that unless they opened a path to San Diego soon, the islands would not last. They needed more heavy hitters, and resources were dwindling. Perhaps it was time to seek out alternate options…
---
"Permission to speak, sir," Commander Hopper asked, watching as several crates marked 'Caution! Sensitive Materials' and 'Top Secret' were wheeled into the summoning chamber.
Admiral Shane didn't respond at first, watching the junior officers unload the crates with an intense glare. It was only after they were gone again that he answered, albeit grudgingly. "Permission granted."
"With all due respect, sir... this is a really, really bad idea. This probably won't even work, and if it does, there's so much else that could go wrong. They might not even speak our language. They'd probably attack us on sight. And when Zapata hears about this, he's going to be on my ass about the wasted samples."
"You don't have to worry about that last one; I talked directly to him about it. He said his team had already gotten everything they could from these." Despite not having the proper background himself, the eccentric astronomer had assembled and led a team of scientists with the singular purpose of studying the debris from the incident back in 2012. To say he was protective of the samples dredged up from the sea was an understatement, and Hopper wondered if Shane had had to exercise his infamous Neeson-esque intimidation tactics to wrestle these away.
That didn't answer Hopper's other concerns, but he held his tongue; the Admiral still wasn't terribly fond of him, and it was clear he'd made up his mind about the plan; to push the issue at this point would be futile and counterproductive. He just hoped this wouldn't end poorly for them, or heaven forbid, give the Abyssals a powerful new ally.
And as memories of his brother flashed through his mind, Hopper wondered if he was just as afraid of what would happen if this plan went right.
Soon enough, the crates had been pried open, and a motley collection of artifacts, from large hexagonal panels and thick cables, to dozens of smaller pieces of equipment the Commander couldn't even begin to guess at the nature or purpose of, were set down beside a respectably large stack of fuel, ammo, steel, and bauxite. The more traditional materials also had Hopper a bit worried, both in that this was some of the last of it they had, and the possibility that the mixture may create problems.
There was a knock on the door behind them. "Come on in, Saratoga." Shane said blandly, and a certain strawberry blonde entered the room, her flight deck held aloft and ready. "I hope we won't need you, but in this case… well, you've been briefed." The carrier nodded, her usual flirtatious grin tempered by a touch of worry and a healthy dose of determination.
So the Admiral had thought this through. And of course, Hopper realized, this was being done while Missouri was away on sortie; if anything would cause problems with this plan, it would be her. Not for the first time and likely not for the last, the commander suddenly felt a bit self-conscious and regretted speaking out of turn.
At least it was a step forward from how he'd been a few years ago. The person he'd been back then wouldn't even have cared. The person he'd been back then wasn't living in a world where aliens and monsters were real and present threats.
"We're ready to begin the summoning, sir." an officer reported.
"Good," Shane responded. "Saratoga, at the ready. Everyone else, begin the ceremony."
---
Time flowed strangely during summonings. There was always a sensation of weightlessness, as though floating in the sea, and those present would see events, memories, like images overlaid over the present reality. They were identifiably historical, but never had anyone experienced this with events so recent.
Hopper saw a war, a civil war on a dark and damp planet lightyears away. So much anger, so much burning. And then peace, an awkward, unsteady thing as weapons of war were haphazardly converted to vessels of exploration. He saw darkness, the vast emptiness of space, and heard a message received mid-travel. He saw the ocean, a familiar ocean, and fire as a comrade was torn away in freefall.
And he saw himself. No, not himself; his ship. A game of cat-and-mouse amongst an unfamiliar archipelago, and a retaliatory strike after five turned into four were further whittled down. And the final confrontation; an old ship, clearly a veteran of her own wars, sailing triumphant as the frightened newcomer sunk below alien waves.
And standing before him were four new girls, alien and yet all-too-familiar.
The one in front, her eyes a scathing orange and her hair a dark metallic shade, trembled as she looked down at herself, lifting up pale yet pink and very distinctly human hands. She saw the reflection of her narrow face, entirely absent of quills, and let out a low moan that turned into a terrified shriek.
She was alien, yet strangely familiar, too, in ways she shouldn't be. "You... natives. What have you done to me?" She spat in perfect english, leaving everyone else present speechless.
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Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Ooooooohh. I get the reference. I don't like that movie, though. In part because an Iowa-class battleship, which weighs 45,000 tons, travelling 35 knots will snap that anchor chain. And the firing systems aren't analogue, and haven't been since they were reactivated in 1981. And many, many other things that bug me. But the snippet is good.
ColdGoldLazarus
Contrary Quester, Spreadsheet Queen, Pink Flamingo
- Location
- Challenger Deep
- Pronouns
- She/Her
And how they're able to get a museum ship ready to sail in less than 24 hours, let alone the months it would actually take to do that, and where the ammunition came from, and the alien ships being made of a 'new element,' and how the regents received a lightspeed signal in under six years despite the planet the movie alludes to being about twenty lightyears away... Yeah, it's definitely a guilty pleasure. XD
Yay, thanks!
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
33 knots. Also, the anchor chain might not snap is the bottom is soft enough, instead just digging a big old trench.
Alayne
The Reader
- Location
- Home of the Vikings
Except we saw the anchor get stuck in the sea bottom and the whole ship turning on that point.
Edit: here's the video. No way that chain should have held.
Last edited:
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Yes, that. In addition,
New Jersey would be disappointed in you. She made a world record of a speed of 35.2 knots, or just barely over 40 miles per hour, and sustained it for 6 hours during a shakedown cruise. She was lightened, which is to say the ship's stores weren't fully loaded, lightening the ship enough to allow for the higher speed. And, in the movie, if Missouri was as lightly loaded as they say, then 35 knots is certainly doable.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Yes, I am well aware of Jerseys little stunt. I'd also point out that after a decade or so as a museum, the ship's engines are unlikely to be working at 100%. 33 knots is probably generous.
- Location
- Barcelona, Catalunya, EU (for now)
Actually, there are several potential weak points that would have made the move into a disaster.
We know that a chain is as strong as its weakest link, so that's one. The anchor is old, so it could have broken when forced to deal with forces and a momentum it's not designed to hold. And while Missouri is armored, that particular part of the fore is not reinforced to resist the strain either.
Now, which one of those three woulrd be the first to give, I have no idea. It's possible that there are even more points that could have broken under the applied strain, but I'm not that familiar with the specs of the Iowa class.
Now, the scene is cool as hell.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
The anchor chain is the most likely of those three components to fail. Or the locking pin holding it to the capstan.
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
I'd like to point out that when Jersey set the record, it was during a shakedown cruise in 1968, meaning she'd been in mothballs for over a decade by then, and the Iowas were supposedly in a sorry state by then.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Sure. And it was after she'd been remitted for a return to duty, which included refurbishing her boilers and turbines (among other things, with compressors and blowers from North Carolina).
The reactivation in the movie included none of that.
Iowa main guns FCS are still 1940 vintage tech.
For the simple reason of,
- It was just as accurate as the 1980s system if not a little more.
- It was known that it can take the shock of those guns firing
- Cheaper and faster to leave it so.
Alien invasion does make things like rules regulations, unions, and OSHA seem...
Not a problem.
Try to put a combat ship into a fight in the shape Missouri was in any other time? Strait to Fort Couch, do not pass go, do not go to court, do not see pay or ETS benefits at best.
My biggest problem is that they had any ammo at all for those guns. The Tomahawks, Harpoon, and twenty mikemikes Pearl has in spades. Hell her 5"/38s can also take modern shells.
16inchers? Not so much...
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
Also, as actual sailors have pointed out, from a cold, museum ship dockside start, it would take hours just to get steam up. And that's assuming you had any fuel in the tank, which you really would not expect on a cold museum ship.
- Location
- Barcelona, Catalunya, EU (for now)
IIRC, in the movie they didn't have enough projectiles for a full broadside.
Nowadays, it's even worse. I think it was in the TLStC thread back in SB, someone posted a link to an article that commented that the Navy was disposing of all the remaining stock of 16in projectiles. Some were targeted for "demilitarization" so they could be sold, but the majority were going to be destroyed.
It's possible that today there is exactly zero usable 16in projectiles in the USN stock.
- Location
- United states
I think they were only decomisioning the salted rounds, as the battleships are still in workable condition(rather they were as of june of 2016 NJ was still being decomed i believe may be wrong)
All 16 inch projectile are being scrapped by the Army on the Navy behest.
Remember alot of those shells are pushing 30-50 years old at BEST.
But explosives (especially ones of TNT type which these are) do not age well at all. They are more likely to blow up in the barrel if at all.
Tnt base explosives are good for 30 years at max before they are either inert or so sensitive they go up if looked at wrong. There's a reason why the Army tries to cycles their arty shells every 15 years.
Hell all the equipment to make them have been scrapped too with the ability to make new barrels of that size since there was no use for them. And to turn the warehouse into a office building in DC.
And the best guess to remake, at max ability fuck regs speed, that is 22 months, made in 2002.
Hell its at the point where Railguns will come online faster then remaking BB guns. Especially since they are done to the Navy satisfaction with 90 percent of the bugs worked out and are just waiting for a ship to put them on.
- Location
- United states
..... Use mighty mo?
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
The Iowas are in excellent condition... for museum ships.
Putting them back into service would require, among other things, major refurbishment of their engineering spaces (engineering spaces there are very few spares available for, even assuming you gut the engineering spaces of North Carolina, Big Mamie and 'Bama), major reconstruction of their 5"and 16" turrets, major updates to their superstructure...
And that's probably just the start.
- Location
- Barcelona, Catalunya, EU (for now)
Well, he was talking about replacing the 16inchers with rail guns. I think that that should remove a significant amount of weight, reduction of crew, and space gains.
Now, I think that while feasible, it's not cost effective, and the age of massive gun platforms is long past. It's a very romantic notion, but utterly impractical.
I'm one of the first to regret it, but unless there is a massive paradigm shift in naval warfare, battleships are not coming back.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Well, he was talking about replacing the 16inchers with rail guns. I think that that should remove a significant amount of weight, reduction of crew, and space gains.
Now, I think that while feasible, it's not cost effective, and the age of massive gun platforms is long past. It's a very romantic notion, but utterly impractical.
I'm one of the first to regret it, but unless there is a massive paradigm shift in naval warfare, battleships are not coming back.
I think that still counts as a major reconstruction of their 16" turrets.
- Location
- Barcelona, Catalunya, EU (for now)
Rather that "reconstruction", the term would be "removal and replacement". With rail guns, you don't need to store gunpowder, and most likely the turrets will have an autoloader, leaving the needed crew to operate the guns to zero. Mind you, those guns still need maintenance crews and who knows what else, but when they are in operation, no one will be there.
Which reminds me of yet another excess of the movie. IIRC, they managed to man the turrets with 2-3 people. for peak operation every turret needs <checks wiki> 79 crewmen.
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
We're kind of wandering off Kantai Collection here, kids. Start a thread on Naval Guns if you want.
- Location
- Little Red Dot
So, I've been working on a Kancolle fic. For quite a while, actually, and from what I hear this is the place to introduce yourself and talk about...well, Kancolle and Kancolle fics. So I decided that since this idea and the words that spun off from it didn't wind up flushing themselves down my brain drain, I might as well post it here.
The really short story: Botegurls, in Space!
The slightly less short introduction:
And the even slightly less short fic itself:
A Sea of Stars
All comments and thoughts welcome, here or elsewhere - I always enjoy talking shop about stories.
The really short story: Botegurls, in Space!
The slightly less short introduction:
First contact four centuries long left behind them, the fledgling race that once sought the stars now rules them. Primus inter pares of a union, an Alliance that spans star system after star system, mankind's preeminence seemed all but certain. But the price of seeking dominion is opposition. And opposition came, surely as the stars must align.
Fast forward to the present - the year 2542.
A decade has passed, and still the breathless night of space is ablaze as the dark tides that rose from its unfathomable depths, designated the 'Abyssals', continue their war against the fleets of the Alliance. Systems have been sacked. Worlds put to the sword. And yet for so many more, ensconced in their home worlds, defended, secure, safe...war seemed but a distant prospect.
I was one of those people. Raised and schooled on Neo Avalon, the Acropolis of the 26th century, I was as far from the conflict as anyone could be. And so it should have stayed. So I should have stayed. In some other time, some other universe. But sometimes conviction and circumstance alike conspire to confound man. They used to say: that he who dares touch the flame should expect to be burned.
And oh, I was burned, alright.
This page, here. The 31st of July, 2542. That was the day everything began.
The day my old life ended.
Fast forward to the present - the year 2542.
A decade has passed, and still the breathless night of space is ablaze as the dark tides that rose from its unfathomable depths, designated the 'Abyssals', continue their war against the fleets of the Alliance. Systems have been sacked. Worlds put to the sword. And yet for so many more, ensconced in their home worlds, defended, secure, safe...war seemed but a distant prospect.
I was one of those people. Raised and schooled on Neo Avalon, the Acropolis of the 26th century, I was as far from the conflict as anyone could be. And so it should have stayed. So I should have stayed. In some other time, some other universe. But sometimes conviction and circumstance alike conspire to confound man. They used to say: that he who dares touch the flame should expect to be burned.
And oh, I was burned, alright.
This page, here. The 31st of July, 2542. That was the day everything began.
The day my old life ended.
And the even slightly less short fic itself:
A Sea of Stars
All comments and thoughts welcome, here or elsewhere - I always enjoy talking shop about stories.