At long last, Jersey had found an isle of dignity in the vast churning sea of utter humiliation that was being forced to wear a Tiara by Jane and getting tricked into drinking liquid-Naka punch instead of something properly bitter and amber. Cake.
Jane had, somehow, fabricated a cake of truly epic proportions. It was a massive layer-cake topped by the same miniature simulacrum of Mutsu that'd been guarding the punch bowl earlier and a small doll of Admiral Richardson wearing inexplicably soggy pants. It was also rich as fuck. Most of the human guests could only get a few bites of the creamy, buttery chocolate down, and even the ship girls were having trouble indulging their usual gluttony.
"You know," Jersey didn't have an ounce of trouble speaking through her fork-load of cake. It was so hearty that even her enormous appetite could only tolerate a slow, measured intake. She'd thought limiting herself to a single slice would be agony, but after eating barely half her stomach felt like it was full of lead shot. "You make pretty goddamn good cake."
"Zona!" A very small standard battleship perched behind Jersey's hated tiara smacked her right between the hair tufts.
"Okay!" Jersey winced. Arizona's miniature image might be tiny, but she packed a hell of a right hook. "A pretty gosh-darn good cake. Better?"
For a while, the small standard said nothing. Then at long last a half-hearted "…zona." slipped through her tiny lips.
Jersey rolled her eyes and indulged herself in another morsel of the delicious cake. If she kept eating like this, she'd end up looking like Mutsu – if Mutsu wasn't surrounded by fawning destroyers. Poor Mutsu, it seemed like everyone on the islands had come to wish her well, but the battleship was clearly desperate to get away and enjoy her wedding night.
"Excuse me, Commander?" A ragged-looking chief coughed nervously at Jersey's side. His fatigues were drenched from the howling rain coming down outside, and his sodden face looked not unlike a wet ferret.
"Chief?" Jersey swallowed her bite, and offered what was left of her cake to the damp sailor. "I…can't believe I'm saying this, but there's no way I can finish this. You want some?"
"Um," The sailor bit his lip. "No, ma'am. It's…we got a message for you." He handed her a damp piece of paper. "Forwarded from Pearl."
"Pearl?" Jersey cracked a grin. "What's Mo gotten herself in –" The battleship's voice died. Her brow knit and her posture stiffened as she read the message. Wet paper crinkled as her hand tensed, and her neck pulsed with the clenching of her jaw. "Thank you, Chief," she said with cold dispassion, "Dismissed."
"Ma'am."
It didn't take long for Jersey to find Naka. She was taller virtually everyone in attendance, and Naka's dayglow dress was impossible to miss. The little cruiser was in the middle of her live-broadcast – that, or she was just fawning to the camera for no reason, which Jersey wasn't completely willing to discount.
"Naka," Jersey forced a smile at the little traffic cone, "Um…" she squinted at Naka's camera minion. "You."
"Hi~ Hi~," Naka winked and threw up a peace sign, "Everyone, it's Nyan~ Jersey-chan!"
"Whatever," Jersey didn't even scowl. That was enough to drain the color from Naka's face. The battleship turned her back to the camera and leaned in close enough to shadow her lips. "You need to stop this right now," she whispered so only Naka could hear. "Something came up."
"O-okay," said Naka. She took a breath and forced a bubbly smile. "I'm sorry, Naka-nation, Naka-chan's got veery important navy things to do~"
"And we're clear!" said her camera minion.
"Git!" Jersey barked, jabbing a finger at the opposite end of the hall. He didn't need any further encouragement.
"So," Naka's mask had fallen and she worried the tip of her bold black tie. "What's…what's going on, Jersey?"
Jersey put her massive arm around the slight cruiser and gently shepherded her towards a vacant corner of the hall. "I'm sorry," she said, and handed Naka the message.
"For…" Naka smoothed the crumpled paper with the heel of her hand and read it. Then she read it again. And again. She didn't make a sound, but her eyes tore through the words over and over, clearly hoping to catch some mistake she's made. Praying that the message didn't really say what it so clearly said. A quiet "oh" was her only response.
"She went down swinging," said Jersey. "I…I didn't really know Sendai, but –"
"No," Naka shook her head, then nodded. "I mean…you're right. It's how she wanted to go out."
Jersey let out a long, slow breath. "Look…we've gotta weigh anchor in…" she glanced at one of her several watches, "three hours if we're gonna make our rendezvous. But if there's anything I or the girls can do before then, just let me know."
Naka sniffed, and nodded. "I…I think I'd, uh, rather just see Jintsu."
"Okay," said Jersey. But she didn't let Naka go without a hug.
—|—|—
Alaska was in the middle of a truly first-class cuddle session with her boyfriend when she got the news. She'd been so sleepy resting on his lap that she hadn't even registered that Sara was speaking until the third repetition. But once she did, she couldn't move fast enough.
She loved Cameron, of course, and she considered napping on his lap while enjoying a sunbeam one of life's ultimate pleasures. But she'd known Atago for longer. Far longer, considering how incredibly short her life had been. If it wasn't for Atago, she never would've worked up the courage to say hi to Cameron. Atago was more than her friend. She was Alaska's best friend. And now she needed comfort.
Alaska tore through the halls, only to stop short right outside the door to her shared room. According to Sara, Atago had excused herself the moment she got the news, and nobody had been able to get her to talk since.
The door was already ajar, and Alaska pushed it the rest of the way open with the toe of her sneaker. "'Tago?" she said quietly.
Atago was sitting on the side of her bed, glassy eyes staring into the infinite distance while her gloved hands worried something. A photograph, from the crawfish dinner she and Maya shared just a few days ago.
Alaska didn't know what to say. Even if she did, she didn't think she could get the words out. So instead of saying anything, she just closed the door behind her and sat down next to her best friend in the whole wide world. She didn't touch Atago, not quite. She just hovered nearby, letting her friend know she was there.
For what felt like hours, the two cruisers sat in silence. Slowly, Alaska's breathing caught up with Atago's, and the rise and fall of both girl's chests settled to a perfect rhythm. She leaned over, her snowy-white hair kissing Atago's brilliant sunny blond locks.
"You know," said Alaska, surprising even her. "I had a sister. Her name was Guam. She didn't really…do much. That sounds horrible, and…and I love her so much, but it's true. Neither of us really did."
Atago sniffled and let her head fall against Alaska's shoulder.
"We weren't in the war," said Alaska. "Not…not like some of the other girls. We were just…sorta…there. At the end. And then we got scrapped. And…mostly forgotten after that." She shrugged. She wasn't bitter, or even melancholy. If anything, it made the large cruiser happy to know her country had been safe enough it didn't need ships like her anymore.
"But not Maya," said Alaska. "Her convoy made it to Pearl safely, you know. People are going to live because of her. And they're going to have babies."
Atago snorted a single quiet chuckle.
"And those people are going to grow up and have babies," said Alaska. "And…and then those people will have babies. For…for hundreds of years, thousands of people will look back and say 'I'm alive because of Maya'. And…" The large cruiser sighed, "I…if that were me…I'd be okay with that."
Atago smiled a ghost of a smile. "Thanks, 'laska."
"Any time, 'tago."
—|—|—
The Raider Princess was in agony. She was low by the bow, her proud Atlantic stem diving under the pounding waves as often as it smashed its way through. Her sides were gutted. Steel was torn open down to the citadel, exposing her aching bulkheads to the vicious, merciless, relentless hammer-blows her own speed struck. Her skin was scorched glassy and raw, her decks splintered kindling. Every drop of rain sent a lightning bolt of torment down her keel.
None of that anguish even began to approach the ungodly firestorm of pure, refined rage burning deep within her stony heart. The Princess was beyond enraged. Her hunt, her righteous prize, her just reward had been stolen from her! Those two cruisers she so furiously dismantled down to their rivets had poached her the prey that was rightfully hers to hunt.
She'd reduced those foolish, insolent warships to nothing more than burning oil slicks on the rigid sea. It'd given her some tiny island of catharsis in the vast roiling ocean of righteous outrage her heart was adrift in. But the waters were rising and so too was her temper.
She longed to punish them for what they'd done. All of them, not only the treasonous thieves she'd so swiftly dispatched, but every last one of the shore-dwelling heathens who'd enabled their unforgivable crime. She wanted to make them all suffer. To watch them starve. To watch hunger drive mothers to tear their children apart. It was far too kind a fate for such an unspeakable crime, but she supposed it would have to do.
If only she could prosecute it! Her hull had been torn asunder, compartment after compartment flooded. Just cruising home drew files over her burning nerves. Her demons were hardly better off. Their superstructures were ravaged, their radars shot to twisted scrap…even if their spotter planes had survived the battle, their catapults were too badly mauled to ever be used again.
The hunt she'd yearned for, for so, so long would have to be postponed. The Princess howled with rage and clenched her fists until wine-dark blood trickled through her talons and stained the iron-gray surf. At least…
At least when she reached the graving dock she would see her beloved sister again soon. The Princess swept her tongue along her razor-sharp teeth. That at least made the agony bearable.
—|—|—
Naka was, on some level, aware that she'd left the wedding and set sail with the rest of her squadron. But her memory was…distant. Hazy. Like a half-forgotten story told third-hand by somebody she wasn't really listening to in the first place. She was barely even aware of her own hull.
She heard the splash of salt against steel, but she didn't feel it. Not really, not beyond a tiny pinprick of cold that could've been an echo from a thousand miles away. When she glanced down at the slim figure and brightly-colored dress of Japan's number one idol, she had to concentrate just to remember she was looking at her own body.
Someone said her name. Maybe. Naka heard a voice, but it was muted and distant. Like someone whispering in her ear from a thousand miles away. She blinked, wiping away heavy tears that sat like forgotten jewels on her delicate features. "What?" she said, her voice strained and quiet.
Beside her steamed the towering Aryan figure of Prinz Eugen. The German-born cruiser was…more miniature battleship to Naka's overgrown destroyer. Her uniform bulged with a mighty twenty-centimeter bust, and her hips swing with nearly twice the power Naka's turbines could scrape together. But for all her size and might, the big German's bright blue eyes had gone gray and misty. Her lip quivered and she couldn't keep her hands still for a second.
"Naka," Prinz Eugen's voice was soft, her accent thick as bunker crude. "I…I served with Bismarck." She coughed and tugged at the hem of her skirt, smoothing the pleats before the stiff breeze made a mess of them again. "Not for long of course," she qualified. "She didn't last very… Anyway, she was like a sister to me. The Kriegsmarine was not a fun place to be, but she and Admiral Lutjens were always so kind to me."
The cruiser stopped and bit her lip. Silent tears rolled down her pristine Teutonic features and she sniffled. "To-to hear about what that monster wearing her face did to your sister… And then to think how much worse you must feel… If there's anything I can do…any of us –" she motioned to where Frisco and Lou were trailing at a respectful distance, "– can do, we'll do it."
Naka took a deep breath and held it. Her spine stiffened as the chilly air slowly warmed in her lungs. She closed her eyes and squeezed away the tears. A moment later, her eyes opened to a glare harder than steel. "You can send that bitch to the bottom," said Naka without a shred of hesitation.
Prinz Eugen nodded and snapped her heels together. "Consider it done."
—|—|—
The Snow Queen sank into her twisted metal throne with an exhausted huff. Her newly-birthed demon was planted solidly on the crook of her hip. Its craggy razor teeth gnawed at the queen's sore, icy teat, finding more coppery blood than what little milk the Abyssal's exhausted bosom had left to give. Still it chewed at her barren breast, ravenous hunger driving it on a single-minded quest to sate the limitless hunger sinking at its belly.
The queen scoffed to herself, idly dragging a talon up the demon's craggy spine. She'd never birthed a lone demon before, the Darwinian carnage in her womb always left an uneasy balance between two or three of her spawn. Each too mighty to assure victory over the other, they clawed forth into the world hungry for war.
But not this demon. Either by skill or luck, it had bested all the rest of its clutch. Consumed their still-warm corpses while it was still in the womb. Grown mighty beyond all measure. Its birth had been the most agonizingly painful experience of the Snow Queen's life, a torturous episode that drove her mad with pain. But the moment she laid eyes – so to speak, of course – on her newborn demon, she knew the agony had been worth it.
She'd birthed a perfect weapon. A mighty archdemon beyond equal. It was still young, too young to hunt free, but already it was nearly her size. By the time it old enough to range beyond its mother's watchful gaze, it would be truly massive indeed.
"Yes?" The Snow Queen glanced to one of her attendants. She didn't normally like being interrupted when she was nursing, but given her newly-birthed demon's ravenous appetite, she no longer had any choice in the matter.
The attendant – an office with no face beyond the polished lenses of a gas mask – snapped off a salute and handed her a communications transcript.
The Abyssal smiled as she read the neatly-typed message. Her beloved sister was making a visit. Sadly, of course, it was a visit prompted by military necessity. She and her demons had suffered damage at the hands of the traitorous fleet, but seemed to have exacted a reasonable price in blood.
"Prepare three graving docks," said the Snow Queen with a giddy smile. It was going to be so nice to see her big sister again. "And…send out an escort, I don't want anyone jumping my sister."
—|—|—
The fleet was passing through the Aleutians and Jersey had something gnawing at her that she couldn't put off any longer. When the news broke at the wedding, everyone took it hard. Naka and Jintsu had…well, Jersey didn't exactly know what they'd done, she'd tried to give them their privacy. All the destroyers, from feisty Johnston to gentle Fubuki, had visibly seethed with a primal need to go out and kill something. And to be honest, Jersey was far too damn angry herself to see anything without a slight red tint.
But there was one exception. One warship who took the news not with rage or tears, but with almost wistful melancholy. A ship who actually smiled at the news. A ship who almost never smiled, even when presented with a bottle of strawberry milk by White Plains.
"Hey, Shina." Jersey tacked a little closer to the towering support carrier. Shinano's smile had dimmed as the trans-pacific journey wore on and her friends' anguish was more and more obvious. But even then, it hadn't completely faded.
She didn't answer at first. Her big brown eyes were milky and her unfocused gaze stared vaguely into the infinite horizon, the tell-tale sign of a carrier giving the balance of her split attention to her planes. But after a moment, the normally timid girl blinked and her gentle hazel irises were back. "J-Jersey?" She started, clearly surprised by how much closer Jersey had gotten while she wasn't looking.
"Kiddo." Jersey tugged at her scarf and scowled at the wind-driven snow whirling lazily around her. "You, uh…you doing okay?"
Shinano nodded, embers of her smile rekindling into a warm glow on her too-youthful features. "Yes," she said simply. "The others – they –" she stopped, and buried her face in the thick wool scarf she'd donned for the Arctic leg of her voyage.
Jersey sighed. "Something you wanna say?"
For a long while, Shinano just watched her own chest rise and fall. "Um…I know they see me smiling. The others, I mean."
"Yeah," the battleship kept her voice even. "They did lose two of their friends just now."
"I know," said Shinano quietly. "And…" her voice was even quieter now. So timid Jersey had to strain to hear it. "I…I guess I should be sad?"
"Ya think?"
Shinano looked away. "But…all I feel is happiness. Not –" she coughed, little clouds of hot breath curling through her thickly-gloved fingers. "– not that Sendai-sama and Maya-sama are dead. But…but that they died for something."
Jersey shot the carrier a sideways look.
"I…I thought that was just a story," said Shinano. "It wasn't what we did – what Japanese ships did." She stared at her toes, "what I did."
"Hey," Jersey put a hand on the big carrier's shoulder. "What's done is done. You're back now. We're all back. To fucking do better. You know I could've faced your big sister?"
Shinano sniffed. "What?"
"Yeah," Jersey nodded, then bit her lip. "I…at Samar," she almost whispered. "'stead I went chasing a ghost, never shoot anything bigger than a fucking destroyer the whole war. Now look at me."
Shinano's sniffle took on a hint of a giggle.
"Look at me? Look at you." Jersey gave Shinano a gentle whack to the back, forcing her to stand up straight and proud. "You did fucking shit last time, now you're the goddamn savior of Tokyo and the most advanced fucking flattop on the whole damn planet."
Shinano smiled a tiny bit.
"So yeah, some of us die," said Jersey. "But we die for a fucking reason. We die so we'll fucking live forever. Oh, and I forgot one other title you've got. Probably the most dam prestigious of them all."
"Oh?"
"You're my friend," said the battleship. "And White's friend…which…is honestly probably better."
Shinano snorted. "It is. But I like you, too." She tacked over and put her arms around Jersey for a quick hug. "Thank you."
—|—|—
The Raider Princess fumed. The agonizing pain that filled every frame of her ravaged hull merged with her apoplectic rage into an unholy concoction of pure unbridled fury. Everything drove her insane with anger. Every wave crashing against her shredded bow, every seagull winging lazily over the surf, every droplet of spray landing on her scorched skin.
Even the escort fleet her sister had dispatched brought the princess to the very limit of erupting with Vesuvian hate. She knew her sister meant well, but the pristine warships with their proud red flags were scalding reminders of her own mauled state. Her sister had done well for herself, while her first hunt slipped through her talons like sand through water.
It didn't help that she was ravenous with hunger. Her bunkers had been holed during the night, and her icy wake was dyed an inky black as precious fuel flowed out by the ton. The meager meal of blood and fear she'd made from the two petulant cruisers had sustained her, but it hadn't even begun to quench the limitless hunger dominating her basest instincts. So primal was her need to feed, she almost fell upon her own demon in the night. Only the imminent promise of resupply by her sister allowed the Princess to assert her self-control. Even then, these last few miles were agony.
Every wave sent what little remained in her stomach sloshing against scorched and hastily-mended metal. She felt what was left of her meal crash against her skin with every pitch and roll, tearing at her flesh like iron eggs bundled in razor wire. Her stomach was mauled with even the slightest motion, and her…
No…
The Princess pushed the burnt resentments of her once-proud uniform aside and placed her gauntlet-entombed hand on the ashy skin of her charred midsection. And she felt it.
A mirthless smile graced her lips, and a bitter laugh crashed over the waves like breaking glass.
It wasn't her stomach, but her womb. She could feel them now, now that she was allowing herself to focus on something beyond her rage. Demons growing inside her, dozens of them packed like razor-tipped sardines in the tight confines of her womb. Already they were starting to stir, their craggy metal spines tearing ribbons from the raw, tender flesh. Euphoric agony flooded her mind as she felt the horde within her fall upon itself.
There were dozens now. Hundreds, maybe. By the end, only a few would remain. But they would be strong indeed.
The Princess smiled and caressed her middle. Already she could see the first hints of swollen growth. Soon, very soon, she'd have an army at her command.
—|—|—
To her immense frustration, Sarah Gale didn't – yet – look pregnant. Every morning she'd wake up and – after prying a gorgeous but excessively cuddly North Carolina off her – give her middle a quick inspection. Thus far, the only bump she'd noticed was a tiny glimmer of roundness that could've been wishful thinking or a trick of the light. It wasn't – Wash lent a few Marines with survey gear to make exhaustively detailed measurements – but still. Whatever baby bump the sailor had developed all but vanished into the baggy digital abyss of her utilities, taking with it the very tangible totem of her and Wash's love.
She wouldn't have been nearly as annoyed if Mutsu hadn't given her middle its own Instagram account. Admittedly, the Japanese battlewagon had a much larger public-relations profile than some no-name Sailor did. And was married to the next CNO's Dad. And had a magnificently toned belly to start with that her armored micro skirt was always showing off. And was carrying twins.
Okay, there were a lot of very valid reasons Mutsu's twins were in the news more than the child in Gale's belly, but it didn't make the sailor any less grumpy.
Luckily, she could blame the hormones and move on. Because while she might not look pregnant, she most assuredly felt pregnant. In that her stomach felt like it was stuffed full of lead shot and she had an uncontrollable craving for chicken liver and clams at all hours of the day. She'd never much cared for clams before, but now she couldn't get enough.
"This seat taken?" Doctor Crowning smiled at the sailor with far less-laden tray balanced on one hand.
"Nah," Gale shook her head and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. She was starting to understand why Jersey ate like a starving eight-year-old boy, but she hadn't quite given into her carnal temptations just yet. "Go ahead."
Crowning set his tray down and smiled. "You're looking good."
Gale rolled her eyes. "You can't even tell I'm pregnant!" She snapped with a tiny bit more vitriol than she meant.
"Mmm," Crowning glanced over the carnage of shells littering Gale's half of the table. "You're eating for…" he made a show of counting, then shrugged with a smirk. "I'm not a math guy, afraid I can't count that high."
Gale narrowed her eyes and took an angry mouthful of liver.
"How's Wash doing?"
"Well…" Gale shrugged. "She's stopped puking every morning."
Crowning shuddered. "That's good to hear." He glanced out into the gray waters of the Puget Sound. "She's…it's okay for her to be out there, right?"
"Vestal says so," said Gale. "Her womb's deep inside her citadel. As long as she's afloat, the kid's fine as can be. Or…something like that."
"You want her back?" asked Crowning in a tone far from inquisitive.
"Yeah," Gale nodded. "She'd never go for it though. We need battleships. Just getting her to accept light duty was a pain in the aft."
"Ass," said Crowning.
"What?"
"You said aft."
Gale narrowed her eyes. "Did not."
Crowning just nodded.
"Motherfucker, they've got me doing it too."
Crowning chuckled for a moment, but his face quickly went still. "So, I've been thinking…"
"Huh?"
"We should be losing this war," said Crowning. "We should've already lost it, right? I'm no expert on naval matters. But the abyss holds most of the oceans, and without our satellites or all the other trappings of modern technology they should've rolled right over us, right?"
"They did, doc," said Gale. "We lost four decks in three hours. Most of China is just fucking gone."
"But they stopped," said Crowning. "They've stopped and we're holding the line. We're even pushing them back in places. Why?"
Gale shrugged. "Dammit, I don't know, Doc! Maybe they've…" She trailed off. She didn't have the slightest idea. But Crowning was staring straight at her belly, and he had that look in his eyes. "Doc?"
"Gale," Crowning's voice was only tangentially connected with the world in general, his mind clearly a million miles ahead. "Did you read the report from Woody Island?"
"The maternity ward shit?" Gale shuddered. For the first time in more than a month, she lost her appetite entirely. "Yeah, that was fucked – oh."
"How much have you been eating?" asked Crowning.
"I…" Gale shook her head. "I don't know, a lot? You think they've got a supply problem?"
Crowning nodded. "It makes sense, doesn't it? They blew everything on one massive blow, but now they're settling in for the long haul."
"Okay," Gale blinked. "Ignoring how you changed sports mid-metaphor there…the only territory they really hold are tiny islands. You sure as hell couldn't feed…Jersey or whatever from one of those."
"Maybe it's not food," said Crowning. "Maybe there's something else they need that we're not seeing, but…there is something they need."
Before Gale could say anything further, the two were interrupted by the quiet arrival of a very small destroyer with her nose buried in a very thick book. The destroyer placed a tray of chicken nuggets and milk on the table and pulled herself up into a chair, all without shifting her eyes from her reading.
"Hey, Walker," Gale smiled and ruffled the destroyer's tawny hair. Maybe it was just her pregnancy talking, but she'd always found the little four-stacker to be far more pleasant than the rest.
"Miss Gale," Walker turned the page. "Doc."
"Walker," Crowning lifted his drink at her. "What're you reading?"
"Destroyermen," said Walker. "It's about me. Well…kind of. Me if I stayed a destroyer instead of a dam-con hulk." She set her book down and smiled. "I was reading in my room, but…"
"But?" Gale coaxed.
"But it got loud." said Walker. "Bannie came in and yelled something about tubers. Then Borie got really mad but she only does thirty-five knots and…" Walker shrugged. "It's quieter here."
"That seems reasonable," said Gale. "Was Borie at least wearing pants?"
Walker thought for a moment. "Last I saw, yes."
"May miracles never cease," said Crowning with a sly grin.
Gale scowled, but couldn't bring herself to be too upset. Walker might be a four-stacker destroyer, but her time as a damage-control hulk had mellowed her out considerably. Of course, Vestal had snapped up the little destroyer for her budding medical wing practically before the summoning was over. "Hey, you wanted to come to the OB/GYN with me, right?"
Walker nodded. "If it's not too much trouble."
"Nah," Gale shrugged. "It'll be nice to have someone there."
—|—|—
Uploader's note: You have no idea how long I was crying after the Night Battle last chapter, and you probably never will. It's a bit early but I decided to release this chapter, for the closure if nothing else. 'twould be quite evil to leave the story at that, eh?
Also, USS Walker does indeed get featured in a published book(s). "The Destroyermen" is not my favorite series but for the naval sh'tuff, it's quite good. Makes you wonder what happens when you send a WW1 destroyer into a world with technology at that of the early 1800s.
Finally, ShinanoBestGirl. All I have to say.
