AN: Third time's the charm I guess? Rebroadcast was kinda… Rushed since I was more focused on world building than balancing that with character development. And the original fireside was good, but I relied too much on KC clichés perpetuated by other fics without realizing it.
And even then, I was just experimenting… Yeah, not the best work really in spite of what I thought at the time. So, I'm using a Discord RP I've been doing for… Jesus… Two Years? As the base for it. Which is rather disturbingly fleshed out for an RP.
Like seriously we have all sorts of shit that shouldn't be important in a Kancolle text RP setting. Like throwaway reference individuals and other things, and a bunch of subplots based around various levels of government and abyssal fuckery.
Expect moderate levels of Grimdark.
Also apparently I uploaded a chapter for my Sonic/Code Geass crossover to the last fireside attempt by accident.
Woooo… Had to delete that rather than change the chapter because I let the Rebroadcast chapters stored on FF expire since I assumed it was okay.
The esoteric entity that was the Abyss looked over its last two attempts to weave a certain story, snorting derisively, or as much a metaphysical entity such as itself could.
The Abyss was not inherently evil no, its wayward children on the other hand…
It shook its head, such misguided fools, what was a metaphysical godlike entity to do.
One timeline, bland, typical, but with promise, ran into a wall by a lack of direction and bad timing.
The other, somewhat controversial but with vast potential, lost due to a desire to experiment rather than let it flow naturally, and a half distracted mixup with something else.
That was embarrassing.
A third attempt was in order, even if these two must die to allow it.
A shame, but that was progress after all. And this at least had a proper background to boot, albeit some changes were necessary, humans tended to get caught in the same timelines for this kind of story, so far as Earth was concerned.
"L̵̴͠e̡̢͏t͏̀͟͝ ͏̶́̕͢t̶̴͜h̸̢e̕͝͏͡ŕ̴̨̕e̸̸ ͞͡b̵̀͘͠e̵ ̷́͢҉l̛͘͟͢҉ì̢̛g̀h͏̶͏t̵̨̢͟."
And so, it began anew.
Maybe this time it would work.
The year is 2060 AD, Mankind has been all but driven from the seas where they once plied trade.
In 2049 the Abyssals launched a first strike that crippled navies and commercial shiping and devastated coastal infrastructure globally.
A year later they began wiping out cities, the first being Wilhelmshaven, Germany, which remained quarantined by the German government ever since, others began following, Ishinomaki, Los Angeles, Dunkirk, Shanghai, Dublin, Kaliningrad, and hundreds of others, entire populations were wiped off the face of the Earth, for the first-time in its history mankind was forced into counting Megadeaths not only due to direct action by the Abyssals but the resulting mass starvation of many nations, with only a relative handful such as the United States being able to avoid rationing food supplies en-masse.
Around this time the first shipgirls, former museum ships at first, began to wake up, USS Midway driving off an air attack that had already claimed the lives of hundreds of people in San Diego, Yamato slaughtering a squadron of Destroyers hoping to bombard Kure, Anshan sinking an overeager battlecruiser moving to attack the evacuation of Qingdao and Belfast sinking a heavy cruiser that had dared to charge up the Thames river for only a few examples.
Simultaneously the Japanese managed to summon the repair ship Akashi, while the Americans acquired Vestal and Medusa in the same manner, with other nations managing to summon their initial shipgirls soon after.
And yet others were found via human hosts, such as Iowa, Prince of Wales, Scharnhorst, Kaga and the North Carolina sisters.
It was rapidly discovered that only shipgirls could effectively deal the killing blow to Abyssal Naval units for unknown reasons, leaving certain nations such as Mainland China and Russia high and dry due to an unknown factor cutting off the summoning of warships laid down after a certain date, combined with every nation trying to hoard its own shipgirls for defense in the wake of entire countries, particularly in Asia and Africa, being wiped out by Abyssals to serve as bases to interdict shipping and launch further attacks this has led to numerous squabbles among the surviving nations, only mitigated by the UN mandating the formation of an International Naval Command.
It has been over 10 years and the war remains in a perpetual stalemate, with neither side able to achieve a strategic advantage.
Vietnam, 2058.
A squad of pro-Abyssal cultists lazily patrolled the area around their 'base', in reality a rather shitty camp with a pair of old Russian made Tunguska SPAAGs, two older model T-72 derivatives, a pair of BTR-80s, some trucks and jeeps, plus some mixed heavy machine guns and mortars acting as defenses.
Unbeknownst to them, a group of predators were watching, waiting for the right moment to strike, too soon and they would sound the alarm and the SPAAGs would tear them to shreds, too late and they'd be out of position.
The signal was issued, and a few coughs whispered out into the jungle as the men went down in a low area that was out of sight, the subsonic rounds being drowned out by the sound of wildlife.
That was when the fifth man walked up, having stopped to take a leak.
The operator swore and burst from cover, effortlessly driving a knife into his throat in the seconds it took for the hapless idiot to process the corpses in front of him.
Had he been brighter or more experienced he'd have started shouting immediately.
["Area clear, next time we make sure the entire patrol is together before taking them down. Over."] A female voice hissed into an encrypted channel.
["Roger that 42. Over."]
42 sighed and loaded a 40mm ATGM into the underbarrel grenade launcher on her M-10 Assault rifle, aiming the tube at a Tunguska.
["Confirm ready two. Over."]
["Ready. Over."] Came the response.
["Fire. Over."]
A muffled thump followed by the hiss of rocket motors igniting as the missiles flew straight and true into the ammo compartment of the Tunguskas, the cultists had kept the damn things loaded and 42 ducked down as one's turret blew out, sending debris flinging into the air as men and women rushed from the buildings, gunfire clattering out in all directions as the men on duty began firing wildly, the sound of engines roaring to life and turrets grinding against hulls as the tanks and IFVs began to go active, their crews probably having slept inside or near them.
["Hold position and lay down suppressive fire! 42 out!"] 42 yelled before switching channels as gunfire echoed through the jungle.
["This is 42 to Banshee, begin attack run, Danger Close! Over."]
["Wilco 42, stay clear. Over."]
A stealth helicopter thrummed in and unloaded its weapons into the mass of humans, tearing them to shreds with rocket, ATGM, minigun and autocannon fire, turning the trucks and IFVs into brief fireballs and smashing the Machine gun emplacements.
["Banshee here, requesting permission to make another pass. Over."]
42 peeked over and scanned the masses of corpses with her goggle sensors. Nothing, they were either dead or would be soon, the vehicles were disabled and burning to a crisp, mortar and MG positions in flames...
["Negative Banshee, remain on station and await further instructions. Over."]
["Roger that 42. Banshee out."]
42 walked through the ruined wastes that was once the cultist camp, stopping when she saw several small figures that had been flung like ragdolls.
Walking over to them and kneeling as the rest of her fireteam swept the camp she stiffened as she stared at the accusing face of a child, noting as she looked around that there were maybe forty rifles total out of a hundred or more corpses, shivering in realization of what she had ordered by sheer accident as she looked back down at the dead child.
"You killed us…" The little girl's features morphed into those of an Abyssal and then it leapt at her suddenly, jaws wide open.
USS Franklin D Roosevelt's golden eyes opened wide as she shot up in her seat whilst the VIP Jet made its approach to Matsushima aerodrome, itself connected to Ishinomaki naval base, her true destination, via road and rail connections, looking out the window she saw the lights of the new town and the shadowed ruins of the old city, which were in the process of being reclaimed for use by the naval base.
Officially it was a supply base, arsenal, district HQ, and home to a USN Carrier Strike Group.
Unofficially it was a place where the multinational command set up by the UN sent its problem children, both humans and shipgirls who were potentially useful or where simply having them killed off wouldn't achieve any gain.
Rosie on the other hand was here to help shore up its defenses following an air raid that left Warspite badly wounded and the Italian cruiser Pola crippled from the waist down, among other casualties.
Or at least she thought so, her nightmares and her falling out with JSOC after her old boss transferred out of the CIA to head some black project made her think otherwise.
A carrier named after one of America's most beloved presidents suffering from guilt about screwups involving civilian hostages, and children especially, being murdered on covert missions was not something anyone wanted to get out to the Public.
Rosie winced as she felt her immense flight deck heave as the jet touched down on the tarmac, interrupting her mental ranting, and muttering a curse about the instability of her class, it made Musashi's or New Jersey's breasts look contained at the best of times.
Not that those two were that much bigger than their respective sister-ships…
Shrugging, Rosie picked up her belongings and stepped down the aircraft's entry steps once she was giving the all clear, entering a waiting JLTV and ensuring her luggage was loaded, she'd long since grown used to adjusting her weight to accommodate vehicles.
Rosie sighed as the Greystone Industries U-87 Robotic Infantryman drove her to the main base.
Some had questioned the design of the so called Cybernetic Lifeform Nodes or 'Cylons' as impractical, except they were designed to do anything a human infantryman could to supplement the devastated militaries of certain nations like Japan, Belgium, Norway, the UK, Australia, or New Zealand.
Wars for survival where mass mobilization meant you needed every man and woman possible doing something tended to make you rethink priorities of design and what was inherently practical.
Hence why Humanoid robots and war mechs were being developed.
ATGMs weren't used by the Abyssals thus far, and so-called Arms Slaves and Labor Units boasted superior passive and active hard/soft defenses and sensors compared to tanks anyways, in addition to being trickier targets to take out. Plus, their single pilot requirements made them easier to deploy en-masse compared to conventional armored vehicles… In theory at least, only the US, China, Germany, and Russia had the industry to actually support such forces in large quantities.
Naturally there were issues with the former of the two, particularly allowing networked 'Smart' AI to kill, their coding was slammed full of ROE restrictions that allowed reflexive action while keeping 'killer robot' incidents to a minimum, usually by a human officer or NCO to give orders in most situations, effectively keeping humans in the loop while allowing them to be flexible in the event of an unforeseen situation such as an ambush.
Rosie personally didn't care, they could be repaired from all but the most grievous combat damage, and their personalities backed up prior to each mission in the event of damage to their hard drives, plus they got a universal pay stipend which was then funneled into taxes and maintenance costs.
She honestly blamed Europe for that idea.
Shaking her head, Rosie looked out the window, watching the LCS Omaha and the DDGs JS Hatsuzuki, JS Suzuya, JS Kumano, USS Downes, USS King, USS La Fayette, USS England, USS Samuel B Roberts, and the attack submarines USS Samuel D. Dealey and USS John M Richardson sit in port alongside numerous support ships, the cruisers JS Mutsu and USS Samar, the guided missile battlecruiser USS San Diego Bay, the Japanese F-35 Bravo Carrier JS Kasagi and CVN-92, the current USS Franklin D Roosevelt, her successor.
She was certain there was another sub or four there and some other combatants and support vessels as well, but they were nearly impossible to make out in the darkness as the bridge arced over the bay.
After a while they reached the main gate to the Ishinomaki Naval district's Kanmusu facilities, Rosie looked at the watchtowers and automated sentry guns watching the entrance, more of a precaution against fanatical cultists than Abyssal armored units really, the massive 51cm gun turrets sitting in the hills above the base on the other hand were of a far more useful persuasion for keeping the enemy at bar.
Yawning as much out of boredom as exhaustion, Rosie showed her ID to one of the Japanese MPs guarding the gate to the main base, the gate opening soon after to allow her vehicle entry.
She swore she'd closed her eyes for only a minute but when she opened them again the vehicle was parked in front of the administration building, and probably had been for some time.
"Aw hell…" Rosie slipped out of the vehicle and headed inside, the Yeoman in the lobby directing her to the Admiral in charge's office, Rosie steeling herself as she waited outside and then knocked.
"Enter." Was the only response.
Rosie exhaled and walked inside, closing the door behind her.
"USS Franklin D Roosevelt repawhtin' sir!" She stated as she gave a crisp salute, smacking herself mentally for allowing her panic to let her nominally suppressed Brooklyn accent slip through.
"At ease." He muttered as he glanced at his secretary ship, Taihou given her profile, whom seemed vexed by Rosie, probably either her tits, a representation of her immense aviation capacity with a theoretical 153 single engine Hellcat or Bearcat fighters according to one unconfirmed figure, the fact she was trying to drag the Admiral off to bed, or both.
Probably both, carriers tended to be the ones with the greatest amount of breast envy for some reason.
Rosie relaxed a bit and waited.
"You're here to help oversee defense integration?"
"Yessir, I've earmarked enough gear to set up another two anti-air brigades. AA guns, radars, control units, SPAAGs, C-RAM, Lasers and SAMs." She rattled off.
"Good, between this and the expansion of the LBAS and the forces at Matsushima, we should be able to hold off any further air attacks." He stated, Rosie noting a hint of a French accent in his voice.
"I guess that will be all sir." She said.
"You will be assigned with USS Midway until further notice. Dismissed." Admiral… She couldn't make out the name on his uniform, stated calmly.
Saluting again, Rosie turned and walked out of the room and headed down hall, bumping into an unusually tall, and voluptuous, Japanese woman in full fatigues, her eyes and the upper half of her face obscured by the brim of her cap. "Ah, excuse me ma'am, I wasn't paying attention!" The Staff NCO stated nervously as she allowed Rosie to pass, the Carrier rubbing her arm.
"It's alright Petty Officer… Just keep an eye out okay?" Rosie said as the JMSDF NCO saluted, Rosie continuing to walk and rubbed her arm as she headed out, glancing back to see the woman head into the Admiral's office.
Why did that woman smell like cherry blossoms…? And why did Rosie feel like she just scraped up against a battleship if the bruise blossoming on her arm was any indication…? Shaking her head the Midway-class headed out of the building, passing some staff NCOs, junior officers, and a German carrier on her way out.
Getting into the JLTV Rosie sighed as the Cylon started it up and drove her to the Carrier dorms, idling outside as she grabbed her things and walked into the building, looking around for Midway's room number and then knocking on the correct door.
She was greeted by an unruly mess of blue hair cradling a sleeping… Type IXC U-Boat… Against her own immense flight deck, which was barely contained by a braless tank top.
"Rosie…?" Midway grumbled, not entirely sure if seeing her sister was a good thing given how they last encountered eachother.
"I've been assigned to this room for the duration of my stay here… I see you don't live alone…"
"I've effectively adopted Yuu here since none of the Germans gave enough of a damn to show up and see her in the infirmary for the longest time." Midway stated bluntly, red eyes narrowing at her sister
Rosie sighed and walked into the room as she glanced off down the hallway, she could have sworn someone had been peeking out of their room to watch, bumping her own head on the doorframe in the process.
"Watch the doors Rosie, not meant for 7-foot-tall Battle Carriers." Her sister snarked.
"So I've noticed…" Rosie mumbled as she set up on the free bunk as Midway tucked the very tired U-Boat into bed, Rosie noting her designation as U-511… And Midway's casual hostility.
"Sis I…"
"Don't call me that, the last time you saw me was after you helped spread Franklin's petty bullshit that I was cheating on Iowa, Jersey would have ripped my fucking face off with her teeth over that plus what happened to 'Tucky if Wisky and Coral didn't hold her back!" Midway snarled, although much quieter than would be normal given her desire to prevent Yuu from waking up.
"Midway… I know I haven't been the kindest sibling, but I wasn't thinking! I was upset about Kentucky!"
"No shit you weren't! You think a day doesn't go by where I don't think about how impotent I was to save my own taskforce? Kentucky, Vallejo, Castle, Lansdale, Hoel! All of them sank on my watch, I was flagship!"
"It wasn't your fault though! Some shitbird feather merchant in the multinational command fucked you and Admiral Watkein over!" Rosie countered.
"Did it matter at the time? Especially when you screamed at me for killing Kentucky when you were so close to marrying her? And then how you got yourself dumped by JSOC or whoever the fuck you were operating for until your mental health was reviewed?" Midway accused.
Rosie stiffened and sighed. "Midway… I…"
"Just leave it at that Rosie, I'm tired and the only reason I was even awake to let you in was Yuu climbing into my bed and burying her face in my tits to use as a pillow." Midway grumbled as she climbed back in bed, Rosie shoving down mildly incestuous feelings upon glancing at her sister's barely covered ass.
All because her namesake married his Fifth Cousin Once removed… Or something, she knew a lot of shipgirls were what could be considered incestuous were it not for the fact many weren't biologically related.
"Just go to bed Rosie… Maybe in the morning I can talk to you without wanting to punch you in the face…" Midway muttered as she rolled over onto her side.
Rosie sighed and stripped down to her underwear before taking off her bra and putting on a tanktop, climbing into bed and laying there for a while thinking.
Maybe someday her sister could forgive her for what she'd done…
Maybe she could forgive herself sometime after that…
'Doubtful.' she mused as she blew a wisp of green hair off her face before drifting off to sleep.