3276. As an addendum to Rule 742, woe be to ANYONE who dares think of stopping Canadian shipgirls and many American shipgirls from watching/attending the Stanley Cup finals (or the Grey Cup, the Super Bowl, the NBA Finals or the World Series)! As HMC Shipgirl Sackville and US Shipgirl Wyoming both warned FOSGF/RCN and DCNO/SG respectively, the riot that would result from that sort of circumstance would stagger even admirers of English football hooliganism!
3276(A). Be also warned that HMC Shipgirl Terra Nova has just received her IRE (Improved Restigouche) weapons refit thanks to the tireless work of HMC Shipgirl Cape Scott at FMF(A). She is also that truly rare breed of Canadian: She's no sports fan, especially no hockey fan...hard as it is for people to believe! But she does like and respect those who are sports fans and is quite willing to step up to the plate whenever someone wants to crash people's enjoyment in front of the boob tube or at the nearest sports stadium or arena.
3276(C). By the way, did we tell you that Terra Nova is now apprenticing with HM Shipgirl Vanguard, US Shipgirl South Dakota and US Shipgirl Phoenix? You have been warned!
"Thanks for doing this for me, Vanguard."
"Oh, posh!" Vanguard said as she reached over to rub the cute little would-be scientific murderball in their midst at the British fast battleship's laboratory near Scapa Flow. "Given that you and your sisters are the first missile-toting destroyers on the high seas, it's heartening to see you wanting to push the RUR-5's capabilities as far as you want!"
"Especially since you came up with those nice ideas about making ASROC preform to limits that not even the RUM-139 could equal on normal ships!" South Dakota proudly declared as Phoenix nodded in glee. It was a rare moment for the shipgirl mad scientists to agree on anything, but seeing as how the cheeky destroyer in their midst had managed to push the simple rocket-boosted torpedo from its nominal range of twelve nautical miles to over quadruple that was a heartening sight indeed. Especially since those two wonderful fleet maintenance shipgirls in Canada that had skunked Dakota, Vanguard and Phoenix with that regenerative mist of theirs had also pitched in to design better "matchbox" launchers to fire the improved ASROCs from.
"Now I gotta test fire them," Terra Nova said. She was slender and pixie-cute short like all of the steamer destroyers from Canada that had been first launched in the 1950s. Her hair was a raven-tinged rust red that reflected her ship's crest colours very well, pale eyes peeking out of a face that appeared weather-beaten given that she was named after a Newfoundland river. Of course, Terra Nova didn't tolerate Newfie jokes at all and had gladly stove the bows in on much larger shipgirls who dared utter such nonsense in her presence. Given how scrappy the seven Restigouche-class shipgirls had become after their IRE refits - yes, Columbia, Saint Croix and Chaudière had got their ASROC launchers, too! - they would no doubt soon earn the reputable title of "cute murderball" normally reserved for the destroyers of Taffy 3!
"Now?! It's the Stanley Cup finals across the pond!" Vanguard noted.
A wry smile crossed the Canadian's face. "It's okay, Vanguard. I'm not a sports fan. Have fun at the World Cup, eh?" she said before she took the box of rockets, then headed out.
Leaving behind three shell-shocked shipgirls. "NOT A SPORTS FAN?!" they eeped together.
Was it even possible...?
Faslane, a day later...
"Hey, Missouri!"
Missouri perked on hearing that cheerful voice with its thick Newfoundlander accent - yes, even the fast battleship named after the Show-Me State had been at the receiving end of Terra Nova's wrath whenever she got called a "Newfie" - then she looked over to see the perky Canadian destroyer walk up, a big box in hand. "Oh, hell! What are you planning now, Nova?!"
The present was handed over. "For you, Jersey, Iowa and Wisconsin."
That made the battleship perk, then she took the box in hand. Opening it and looking inside, she then gaped. "Holy shit! You mean you got Dakota, Vanguard and Phoenix to...?!"
"Yes, ma'am!" Terra Nova affirmed. "If we can get production going, we could get everyone fitted with I-ASROC launchers as soon as possible. Even smaller versions for the Rivers, the Flowers, the Castles and the American destroyer escorts like Miss Roberts! That wrapped box is for her, by the way," she helpfully added as she pointed in the box; she knew how much the Iowa sisters doted on the little Butler-class escort that had fought like a battleship at Samar.
Missouri looked as she considered her own weapons outfit. Yeah, she could ship four of these little beasts on her hull; just land four sets of Bofors to make room. Knowing Vanguard and South Dakota, the matchbox launchers would be definitely hardened enough to withstand the shock of her Mark 7 16 inch naval rifles firing at close range. At least given where the ASROCs were placed on an IRE hull, Terra Nova and her sisters wouldn't have to worry about that.
"Why am I smelling a potential bribe here?" she then leered.
Terra Nova flustered. "Ma'am! Well...!" She sighed. "Ma'am, I hereby request permission to load my test weapons with W44s for the trial run as I return to Canada."
That made the taller shipgirl gape. "WHAT?!"
The destroyer cleared her throat. "You do remember that the World Cup is starting, ma'am."
"Yeah! So what?!"
"And that the Stanley Cup finals are now being played back home?"
"Yeah! I...!"
It hit her.
"Oh..."
"There's gonna be someone who's not going to take the Europeans' threat to the Atlantic Empress seriously, ma'am," Terra Nova stated as the local supply shipgirl for Faslane, Fort Rosalie, nodded in grim understanding. "Besides, with the Stanley Cup still undecided...!"
Missouri hummed, then she sighed. "You got some stuff around, Rosie?"
"Bloody damned straight I do, Mo!" the reborn Royal Fleet Auxiliary weapons transport said as she offered her hand. "Here, Nova, let me see what you did with your rocket torpedoes."
Terra Nova grinned. It had something of Johnston's maniac glee, Missouri noted...
Two days later, out in the North Atlantic...
The Mid-Atlantic Ridge Princess snarled as she surfaced herself along with her escort force. As her submarines and carriers moved to complete their reconnaissance of local seas, she snorted. Did those pesky Europeans or those dirty South Americans believe that someone with the stature of an Abyssal Empress of all things would submit to that stupid "cease fire" that had been demanded of her weeks before by the massed fleets of those nations?! Ridiculous...!
Eh?
What was that?!
Scanning towards Britain with sonar and radar, the Princess hissed out in glee on seeing the lone Canadian destroyer - one of their newly-resurrected steamer types by the looks of the little thing! - heading right for their formation. Oh, wonderful! With the North Americans distracted by that ice hockey thing of theirs and the Europeans and South Americans...!
Huh...?
Wait a minute...
If this girl was Canadian...
...why wasn't she watching the damned STANLEY CUP?!
A nearby submarine then sent a flash warning stating that said destroyer had just launched a pack of eight rockets into the air at a range of thirty nautical miles from the Princess. Hearing that, the Abyssal flagship hissed out as she realized her attacker was one of those Restigouche-class destroyers with their 1970s-era upgrades. How DARE those stupid maple fudge-sucking, beer-guzzling hockey lovers DO something that made the surface powers' effort...?
Eh...?
She launched from THIRTY nautical miles out...?!
But...?
The Princess then blinked as the submarine relayed the news that the rockets had dropped torpedoes into the water at about five miles from her position...
...and that the pesky Canadian was now turning away?!
What in the name of the Fates was making her...?
Terra Nova started as she felt the explosive double-flash of eight W44s wash over her as they unleashed their ten kiloton ordnance at the same time, then she screamed with laughter!
"INTERRUPT MY FRIENDS' SPORTS NIGHTS OUT, WILL YA?! TAKE THAT!"
Down in Brazil, that moment...
"Eh?!"
King George V blinked before she looked over. "What is it, Vanny?"
Vanguard blinked before she beamed. "I think I just sensed Nova's experiment is a success!" she declared with a proud smile as she crossed her arms in contentment.
"What experiment?" the other British battleships asked in chorus.
Their young peer's response was drowned out in a mass cheer as England scored...
Meanwhile, up in Portsmouth...
"Eh?!"
Missouri blinked as she looked over. "What is it, Chief?"
The chief sonar technician who was monitoring the SOSUS lines that criss-crossed the Atlantic basin blinked before he yawned to pop open his eardrums while taking off his headphones; he had been watching over things from his own computer. "Not really sure, ma'am!" the veteran sailor said as he gazed in confusion at the reborn fast battleship. "It sounded to me like a whole slew of nukes just went off all at once! But we don't have any boomers...!"
"Eight W44s going off," Missouri called back.
That made him blinked, then he put the headphones back on. As he concentrated, Missouri turned back to watching Game Six of the Stanley Cup play on the flat-screen television on the bulkhead in this lounge set aside for visiting American and Canadian shipgirls so they could catch local news or sports from home while their hosts were going crazy over the World Cup. As she watched the team she was favouring get into a power play, the sonar tech then looked over. "You called it right, ma'am!" he called out not too loudly so that the battleship wouldn't be distracted too much from the game. "Eight W44 nuclear depth bombs going off right over the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. By the sounds of it, whoever fired them off just nailed the Mid-Atlantic Princess and her whole fleet!" As Missouri gasped in shock, he shook his head. "I'm detecting at least fifty Abyssals all heading for the bottom right now, ma'am! Fuck! Who did that?!"
Missouri blinked before she hummed as she wondered what to do now. Nailing an Abyssal Princess would knock down the Atlantic Empress' forces harassing trade across the "pond" by a factor of at least a third...which would definitely give shipgirls on both sides enough time to rearm with the I-ASROCs that Terra Nova just tested now, then go to town on everyone else!
Thinking of that, she then smiled as she turned back to the game.
The little Canadian murderball would want her to enjoy herself and watch the damned game!
We're so lucky to have someone like her...!
Five weeks later, in Ottawa...
"Go right on in, Missouri. He's waiting for you," Sackville advised with an amused smile.
"Thanks, Sacky!" Missouri called out to the stout corvette before she stopped at the threshold of Rear Admiral Harlan's office. "Battleship Missouri, BB-63, reporting as ordered, sir!"
"Come in, Missouri," Admiral Harlan said with a grimace on his face that was half-amused and half-horrified. Much to the battleship's surprise, he was hosting a small conference of both senior shipgirls and their commanding officers in his office and not just over a video-conference line. Among them were Admirals Cunningham and Hartmann, accompanied by a beaming Vanguard and a chuckling Bismarck. Also there was Missouri's top boss, Admiral Williams, accompanied by Wyoming, the old battleship that served as his chief aide.
And there was a smirking Terra Nova alongside a very upset Cape Scott.
"Um, is there something wrong?" Missouri then asked.
"We're not sure, Missouri," Cunningham stated. "Given that you somehow conned Fort Rosalie to release eight surplus W44 nuclear depth bombs to Terra Nova there, it could be seen as a massive infraction of regulations concerning weapons of mass destruction even if she is now equipped by virtue of her new rocket launching system to make use of such beastly things..."
"To say anything of the radiation danger!" Cape Scott snapped.
"I DID sail into the storm that was nearby to wash down, Scotty!" Terra Nova protested.
"That's enough, you!" Harlan called out as he fired the grinning destroyer an annoyed yet amused look. "Now, given that Nova here was able to not only sink the Mid-Atlantic Ridge Princess but her ENTIRE combat fleet with said bombs, it's been decided by the Governor-in-Council, the Crown and your own National Command Authority, Miss Missouri, that this incident will be forgiven...but NOT forgotten!" He then winked. "All we want to know is 'why'!"
Eyes locked on Terra Nova, who shrugged. "It was Game Six of the Stanley Cup and the first game of the World Cup down in Brazil, Admiral," she stated, which made Bismarck gasp in shock and Vanguard beam in delight while the normal human officers all blinked. "It was the perfect time to attack, no different than when Admiral Yamamoto launched Plan Z to hit Pearl on a Sunday back in '41! Besides, with all the shipgirls glued to television screens or watching the games live-time, how soon would they have reacted if that creep attacked?!"
Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.
Then...
"YOU BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL!"
That was a bawling Bismarck, who was now swamping the struggling destroyer in her arms as she thrust Terra Nova's bridge right into her considerable bilge tanks. "SACRIFICING YOUR CHANCE TO WATCH THE STANLEY CUP ALL TO LET US WATCH THE WORLD CUP!" the German battleship wailed as she showered everyone else with her tears. "YOU SWEET GIRL! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
As the admirals all shook their heads and Cape Scott threw up her arms in frustration, Vanguard and Missouri exchanged knowing looks, then the British battleship flashed her Morse lamp.
[You going to tell them, Mo?]
[Not in a million years, Vanny!]
Fin...!
