Northern Palawan Coastal Region, Philipines:
The Supply Depot Princess was angry, that much could be seen by anyone who saw her as she entered the mill. The taskmaster, a Ri-class Heavy Cruiser, struggled to keep up with the tall installation's long strides.
"Where is he?" Mae said calmly, even as the 'click' of her gauntlets could be heard over the machinery, clicking against the metal clipboard in her hand with a staccato beat as her Rigging rolled behind her.
"Hime-Crizzete-Sama, he's waiting in the main office, I did as you said and didn't tell him you were coming, should I show you-"
"I know where it is, I memorized the layout long ago, come."
The chastised Cruiser followed the Hime, weaving through the work floor, past billets of steel on their way past inspection to the rollers, where they would be shaped into usable forms. All work in her path temporarily halted as Human workers in reflective heat-resistant gear and facemasks watched her pass, faces inscrutable behind their protective equipment.
Neither of the ships bothered to dress any differently, of course, the warmth of the cherry-red metal passing by not enough to warm their preternaturally cold hulls.
They reached the doors to the main office, the Ri, in a burst of speed, zipping ahead to open the door for her Hime.
Mae Crizzete wasted no time, crossing the threshold and slapping the metal clipboard onto the table in the middle of the room with a resounding clang. The human foreman jumped to his feet, surprise writ against his features, "Hime-Crizzete! This is a surprise, why have you graced u-"
Mae tapped the table next to the clipboard, seemingly gently, only for her finger to leave a monstrous dent in the cheap metal. "What the fuck is this?" She said evenly.
The foreman, a balding, middle-aged man of Filipino descent, flinched at the casual destruction. "Hime Crizzete, t-that's... a clipboard?"
Mae's head drooped, her eyes clenched shut tightly as she seemed to be counting silently to herself, she looked back up, "Yes, congratulations, it is indeed, a clipboard. Now, what. Is. On. It." She enunciated each word carefully.
The foreman slid the clipboard over clumsily, having to use both hands to slide the rather thick piece of metal over, he leafed through it quickly, scanning the pages for what had the Hime so obviously irked.
"This, this is a production report?" He tried again.
"One signed and dated by you, yes, now, do you see this here?" She pointed at a specific spot on the report.
The foreman looked at the index finger, itself wider than the entire clipboard it hovered over. He looked over at the Taskmaster with a worried expression, before looking back, "...N-No?"
"It says, that your blast furnaces are operating at an efficiency of forty-five percent. And If I am not given an exceptionally valid excuse very quickly as to WHY, you will be leaving this office through the back door."
The foreman looked behind him at the wall, unadorned but for a few coatracks and protruding pipes, before turning back with a little more sweat on his brow than before.
The fact that the office only had one door went unsaid.
"I-Its the Petroleum coke, Hime-Crizzete!" the man gestured wildly as he spoke, "The pet-coke we are shipped is poorly treated! It has too much sulfur! That, paired with the reduced Aluminum shipments, means that we have more impurities, and fewer additives to bring them up to the surface in our blooms!" He swiped at his brow, "We have to put them through the reheating process three times to maintain the quality of steel you want, which decreases our overall output, significantly."
During the report, Mae's threatening posture had relaxed, "And why are these reduced production reports the first I'm hearing of this?"
The man, seeing that he was no longer in immediate danger, frowned in confusion. "I sent a message to the Citadel seven months ago, explai-"
Mae turned to the Taskmaster before he could finish, "My secretary was killed at about that time, I only recently got a replacement." She turned to the foreman, a contrite look on her normally inscrutable face.
"It looks like you found a valid excuse, after all, congratulations." The man sighed in relief as The Supply Depot Hime turned, gesturing for the Taskmaster to follow as she left the human man to plop back into his seat bonelessly in relief.
Mae stopped at the door, "I expect the problem lies further up the production chain, I will see why there seems to be issues with the pet-coke, but in the meantime, I expect you to maintain your current output at the same quality you have up until now. If I see that production has dropped even further, this time without significant cause...?" She left, leaving the threat up for interpretation.
The Taskmaster turned to her, bowing her head as they walked, "I apologize Hime-Sama, I should have realized earlier that the message hadn't gone through when we didn't receive an acknowledgment."
Mae simply waved the issue away, "A failure on your part, to be sure, but a minor one. Oh, before I forget, increase the food rations here by a half-portion."
The taskmaster frowned, confused. Mae noticed, and explained.
"The humans in this mill correctly maintained the quality of my steel, rather than cutting corners due to inferior materials. Even if it meant reduced output, something they knew would draw my eye." Mae looked over, a flash of blue from her glasses as targeting algorithms flashed briefly, "Sometimes the occasional carrot can work as well as the stick."
"Umm... We, uh, don't have any carrots. Hime Crizzete-Sama, I don't think any of the farming villages grow them at this time of the year." The Taskmaster said cautiously.
Mae didn't dignify that with a response.
...
She had only just returned to the Citadel, stepping up the ramp built into the platform, when Derin, her new Secretary, ran up to her.
"Yes, Derin? I have a refinery to inspect." Mae said distractedly, nonetheless slowing her long-legged gait enough for the significantly smaller Submarine to keep pace.
"Its important Miss Crizzete! It's the Prata's Armada! They-"
"Those neanderthals? If they tried to raid another one of my shipments that will make my day complete."
"Two of their Captains are waiting outside your office."
Mae stopped, looking over at the Ka-class, "Come again?"
"Two of their fleet-Captains came in while you were away, their forces were beat to hell, and they came in towing disabled and re-floated ships, so we figured they wanted to trade in some broken hulls at first." The Ka let in a breath on her respirator, then continued. "They are offering them as a gift, that you might accept them into your fleet."
Mae started walking towards her office, "The Prata's Fleet-Captains pride themselves on their independence, why strike their colors now? Did another Hime finally have enough of them?"
"That's the thing, Miss Crizzete," The Ka breathed in noisily, "They say they were attacked by Kanmusu."
Captain Roga tried to smooth over one of the larger bumps the left side of her flight deck now sported, the old hull hadn't been done any favors by the near hit she'd taken from a 16" gun. The damage had mostly healed over, but the raised weld-line 'scars' it had left were far too noticeable for her liking.
Next to her was Captain Jillian, a Ta-class formerly from the yellow sea, her pointed feet mostly hidden from view by the hem of the formal kimono she wore.
"Why the fuck did you put that on anyway? you look like a half-painted whore in that getup." Roga groused at her one-time rival. More out of nervousness than anything.
Said Ta flicked the Wo-class off before replying, "We're meeting an Installation! I don't wanna go in there looking like a squid attacked me with eight angle-grinders. 'Sides, stole this dress off a cargo ship 'bout a year ago, always wanted to wear it somewhere it wouldn't get soaked in seawater, I think it's pretty."
Roga snorted, "Yeah, a dress on you is 'bout as pretty as a chandelier in a haunted lighthouse."
"Oh FUC-"
The door opened, cutting off the Ta's incoming diatribe. The two Capital ships, seated as they were, had to crane their necks to look up at the Supply Depot Hime.
Roga, for all that she was a fleet Carrier, suddenly felt rather small.
The Hime, for her part, simply crossed her arms as she stood in the doorway, her Rigging rolling to a stop a second later, chomping at the air once with its massive flat teeth, before settling down. She looked first at the Wo-class, both of her brows rising in mild surprise as her glasses flashed.
"Hm, a Zuikaku knockoff. Haven't seen one of those in years, ever since they were phased out in favor of the Essex." She turned to Jillian, "And a Revenge-class, hmm, if the smaller torpedo control and conning tower is anything to go by, anyway." She started forwards, walking past the two ships as she entered her office-proper.
She sat down at her oversized desk, before beckoning the two minor Abyssal Warlords closer.
"Well, let's hear it, what have your raiders bitten off this time?" She looked them over, "From the look of it, you cracked a few teeth."