[Author's note]

Last time I spoke, this story reached ten thousand views. Now, that number has doubled, plus a few thousand extra. Whether that is twenty thousand individuals or one hundred of you refreshing the page two hundred times over, I am still enormously grateful.

But I feel like I owe you a few things. I try to update this story once every month or two with five to six-thousand word chapters. I feel like those are manageable chunks for me to make and not too many WORDSWORDSWORDS for the easily tired human eye. However, I haven't been as consistent as I'd like, so I owe an apology for that. Work+eat+vidya+sleep is a vicious cycle. Writing fanfiction isn't going to break me out of it, but it's a placebo for now.

I also feel like I owe an explanation. Every time I make a theory about the world of Azur Lane, they throw in another update that demolishes everything. At this point, I'm going to do whatever I want like I always have. That's fine, because most of their focus is on characters anyway. However, the same is true for them and the situations they are in now. Considering the passionate and vastly different personalities populating Azur Lane, some of them simply aren't compatible with each other. Put Gangut, Akagi, and Roon in a small room, and the walls will be painted red in twenty minutes. Azur Lane as a force can't exist with all it's members looking to each other for threats more than the enemy they fight. There are some mentions in the story of times when hands go to throats and how devastating they can be.

I've seen a few reactions akin to "Wow is my [shipfu] really doing that?". I understand that perceptions of fictional characters can be different. I like to play out of bounds to add depth to characters and also try to not take things too seriously. This story contains a lot of ideas that are attempts to add depth to a character and are mostly meant as jokes to myself, but I know won't please everyone. Yes, Helena listens to Roy Jones Jr. Yes, Gascogne speaks like HK-47. Yes, Gneisenau intimidated Amazon with a Hogan's Heroes reference. (Nice catch, YF19EX. It really impressed me.) Waifu games and other media tend to water down personalities in order to attract a broader audience.

I do not water down. I double down. War very rarely makes nice people, and they are all made for it. This is especially true for the ones constructed by totalitarian regimes. Many of the more aggressive ones have simply learned patience. I'm also running with a harem plot because the idea of performing a double reacharound of simultaneously mocking the genre and taking it with more seriousness than it deserves is hilarious to me.

Finally, I also wanted to say that there is an end planned. I have one in sight and I will, at any cost, get to it. I would be honored if you stuck with me so I may present it. Afterwards, we will see how those who were born to fight learn how to live.

[RANT OVER]

Hornet and Taihou strode alongside each other down the hallway. While previous sworn enemies for two wars, they now considered themselves allies… for the most part. Friends would be pushing it. However, they understood that they worked and fought under a greater cause, and therefore, were comfortable leading beside the other. They also understood the escort ships looked up to the line vessels as role models and inspirations. If they were to bicker, all others would falter.

Therefore, they'd understood their objectives, planned their operations, and picked their team together. They certainly had widely different beliefs, but woe betide the person that accused them of unprofessionalism. They arrived at their briefing room, and Hornet respectfully opened the door and gestured inside. Taihou nodded and drifted into the room. Hornet wasn't the kind to drift, so she simply walked in with her boots making a stomping noise.

All inside stopped their actions and quickly found seats in folding chairs. Taihou took a small delight in people actually being competent enough to know what to do for once. Her time in a country whose navy consisted only of gunboats taxed her sanity. It was good to be back. Hornet sniffed, produced a pad of paper, and said, "Okay, y'all know how this works. Roll call! Jamaica!"

"It is I."

Hornet shrugged, "Yeah it is. Cleveland!"

"Here."

"Ooshio!"

"Hai."

"High?"

Taihou leaned over and whispered, "It means yes."

"Oh, I learned somethin'. Akatsuki."

"Hai."

"Aurora."

"Here."

"Amazon."

"Here."

"Shigure."

"It's me!"

Hornet sighed, "They're all here and they're all a bunch of weirdos."

Taihou chuckled, "It took you that long to figure out?"

Hornet continued, "Okay then. Here's what's gonna happen. A few weeks ago, the Panama government called us about some suspicious air traffic comin' from the south of their country. San Miguel airport reported unmarked civilian planes flyin' over the bay and Panama city, but those planes refused radio contact. We believe these are disguised siren spy planes, which means there's probably an airbase or carrier somewhere on or near Canas Island or Medina del Este. You saw both of those on the maps we handed you. It is our job to quietly observe and be a fast-response presence if the sirens suddenly get mad. Judging by it's behavior, we guess it's either a siren social observation post, or a carrier strike group acting as one, but the canal's importance is absolute. Should the sirens be detected, they may attempt to bomb the canal on their way out. We must protect it at all costs. Otherwise, be quiet, be subtle, and only shoot if ordered to."

Hornet concluded, "Speakin' of shootin', I'll just hand it over to Taihou, who can share her experience in greenwater combat. If you… Where'd she go?"

Meanwhile, I inspected the newest confiscated copies of Asses Quarterly. The pile of them stacked uncomfortably high. I should probably explain what the hell I'm talking about.

Asses Quarterly is a prime example of the limitations of any officer and a reminder of the futility of any attempt to control people completely. The example in question is Azur Lane's black market magazine, which has been running for two solid years now. Despite numerous investigations, where and how these magazines are being produced and distributed remains unknown, as does their creator. The vast majority of content inside them is obvious. My main problem was that ninety percent of the asses inside them are mine.

All of the images range in quality from what looked like it was taken with a dollar store camera to one of those concealed imagers the MI6 use, all of me. Me in jeans, me in gym shorts, me in swim trunks, me in sweatpants, me in my uniform, the variety of scenes and angles was astounding. There was even a centerfold. In any of the situations I saw, I never remembered there being someone behind me. Some of the images included the photographer's comments on my "juicy dumper". I couldn't tell if this was genuine or a meme simply gone too far.

Not all of them were mine. As stated at the end of every issue, customers could also anonymously send images of their own asses(usually bare) accompanied by love letters which ranged from heartfelt to disturbing. Nobody has ever been found in possession of them, but the magazines have always been found abandoned or in trash bins(usually with pages missing).

And so there I stood, going through a disappointingly high stack of these things. With me was Z23, who was helping me with a chemical test. Our current theory was to check what kind of ink the printer was using. If we could figure that out, we could search for that kind of ink on incoming transport ships. If we found any imported, that would prove that the printing facility was somewhere on the islands. I held an issue up and watched as the centerfold finally stopped at my knees. Z23 turned to look. I asked, "Have you ever read one of these?"

She said, "No! Of course not. This rampant unprofessionalism disappoints me."

"Right. How's that test going?"

"Three have been negative so far. This one will take a minute."

I continued, "Look, you've been at this for a while. Do you need a break?"

Z23 said, "Well, I've been hungry for a while."

"Then go eat. Take half an hour. I've got this for now."

She left. I stared alone at the series of untried tests on the table. I realized we were missing one of them, so I also walked out of the room, down the hall, and into another storage room to retrieve it.

I turned the corner when something fleshy suddenly slammed into me, and I staggered against the wall. I tried to get up and suddenly felt the light around me darken. As my vision recovered, Taihou loomed over me in all her mad glory. She said, "Dear shikikan, it's been so long. I missed you so."

I coughed and replied, "Yeah, real good to *gasp* see you back. If you wanted to talk, just *wheeze* do it like a normal person."

Taihou advanced. I retreated backwards, but found myself in a corner. She said, "But I want much more than simply conversation. I've never forgotten what you sound like and certainly not what you feel like, but those memories are old and stale. I need something fresh."

Her hand reached out and touched my chin. She giggled, "Look at you. It's almost adorable. Cornered like a mouse." She moved forward, locked eyes, and said, "Squeak for me."

But this happened once before. I'd been dragged off on a ride with no control over it. I didn't mind, but it hurt the conscience and sense of self. I vowed to make it different this time. I reached my hand out, grabbed her wrist, and said, "You're always acting like you're the one in control. What are you afraid of?"

Taihou rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, quit looking for weaknesses in all of us. No, I'm not. I genuinely missed you and Akagi would absolutely not shut up about how she finally got some, how amazing her skills were, how she basically had you under her thumb, and blah blah blah. She likes to pretend she's born again, but I know her true nature. Her squawking can get to anyone and I was more than a little irked. I just express myself more intensely than most. You know that."

I said, "I guess."

Taihou continued, "Now, that little bit of bravery certainly had me surprised. Looks like you've changed since we last met. How about I remind you what real pleasure feels like?"

"Eh, shit."

[============]

Hornet snapped shut Taihou's greenwater combat notebook, and said, "Welp, about wraps that up. See y'all tomorrow at 0700. We ride at dawn. Remember to prep for hot and humid weather."

Hornet was the first out the door, and immediately noticed Taihou also leaving the restrooms across the hall. She asked, "Taihou, what the hell were you doing? You bailed on me!"

Taihou bowed slightly. "I had a small emergency. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"All right, fine." She sniffed the air. "Why d'you smell like booze?"

"I… found a new perfume that smells like wine and thought to try it."

"I'm more of a cologne girl myself. It smells like you've poured wine all over yourself."

"I may have applied too much. Besides, doing that with perfectly good drink is just wasting it."

[=============]

Z23 returned from her break to find me laying face-down on top of an evidence crate. She took a bite of her mini donut and asked, "Are you well?"

I lifted my head up and said, "Yep, all is well. I just decided to take a nap right here on top of this box."

Z23 replied, "I see. What- Why do you smell of cognac?"

"I don't know."

"Fine, then."

We both completed our task with three positives for three different kinds of inks. We agreed to return later and learn which of those three weren't false positives. After that, I returned to my quarters to relax and think about my brain scan on the mainland.

[================]

Night fell, passed, and turned into dawn. The task force left the harbor precisely on time and headed south. As they travelled, the air very gradually became more consistently hotter and humid. The girls had much experience in occupying themselves for their five days travel time. Some played games, drilled, enjoyed the sea, or simply spoke to each other. Despite all of them having vast differences in opinion and belief, they conversed with each other easily. The only alternative was an uncomfortable silence. They absolutely would not shut up, and their sailor ancestors smiled down with pride. Legend stated that, if the gossip was good enough, the naval rumor chain was faster than even radio. Hornet and Taihou, taking a break from planning, were still in conversation near Guatemala.

Hornet rubbed her chin and said over the radio, "So… I'm still confused."

Taihou chuckled and said, "That's not unusual."

"Oh, go to hell. I mean about how they requested aid."

"You mean Panama? What was so strange?"

"Well, they didn't go through the usual channels. They literally called us using a phone line and asked for help, even when we gave them a special secure transmitter."

Taihou said, "Oh, when you said 'call', I assumed it was a figure of speech. That is strange. The telephone originated from their government office, yes?"

Hornet pulled her hat off her head and fanned her face for a moment. "Yeah, it was an official number. What was weird was that it wasn't the president himself speaking. You'd think if your country was in danger and you needed help, you'd ask for it yourself. I'm surprised we answered it at all. I don't even know who called and who they called. Wasn't in the briefing."

Taihou said, "Well, I've been given less clear orders before. On another topic, I have a question: Why did you specifically ask for Amazon to join us? This is a delicate operation and her only experience is cargo escort duty. Look at her. She's screening like she's never done it before."

Hornet looked forward to Amazon in her screening position. Hornet had to admit that she could tell the girl was stressed, even from this distance. "Yeah, but there's a first time for everybody. She needs a little something under her belt. This's supposed to be an easy op anyway. Besides, I heard she got bullied the other day and since I can't go out and seek justice m'self, I thought this'd be good."

"Justice? Bullied?"

"Yeah, I heard some of the folks from Iron Blood started pressuring her. Somethin' to have to do with the commander. I think they're trying to make a little secret police or something under his nose." Hornet chuckled, "Guess some people don't change. You haven't heard anything about this, have you?"

Taihou looked away. "I actually have. Ever since the incident with Roon, I heard a lot of talk about creating a regulating force to make sure we didn't accidentally kill shikikan. I fear, however, Roon(and everyone else) may be playing a much more patient game now."

"About time y'all calmed down at least on the outside. The infighting in the first year, whew, that was rough. You were one of the worst, you know."

Taihou chuckled, "I still am."

"Ugh. Like I said, some people don't change. You know, if you keep lifting your dress for him all the time like that, he's going to get tired of you. And then he's going to go for folks like me, who lets her confident yet sensitive personality do all the heavy lifting for her. Triple-A material always takes work, but it's worth it in the long-term."

Taihou laughed out loud. "You're wearing even less than me!"

"Uniforms get in the way. I like my freedom."

"Okay, 'freedom cowgirl'. You do whatever you want, but I'll give you a piece of womanly advice. If you simply sit back and wait to be approached, you will never be approached at all. Even if you are worth what you believe you are, it means nothing if you aren't available."

Hornet attempted to retaliate, but found herself cornered. She conceded in silence and went back to looking at the depth charts again.

[==================]

I boredly worked on my questionnaire that I had to fill out before I entered the claustrophobic MRI machine. The next question read:

8. Have you performed metalworking or been near a metalworking project? Yes/No

Considering my participation in Odin's construction as well as being near other ship repairs, I circled "Yes".

I was forcibly showered for this.

[===================]

As the task force entered Panama Bay, Akatsuki reported to the carriers, "Directional radio transmission for us. The callsigns are correct, but everything else's encrypted. It keeps repeating. The signal is fairly weak."

Taihou furrowed her brow. "This is on a civilian frequency. Again. Judging by it's lack strength, it couldn't have come from a large transmitter station; perhaps a mobile unit."

Hornet was also concerned. "Military callsigns, but civilian channels? Are they this sloppy? What's it say?"

Taihou said, "It's a Union cypher. I don't know it. I'll send it over."

"Ugh, I hate cryptography. I wish we could all just use one, that way all the nerds can do it. Hang on."

"If we all used the same code and it was cracked, it would jeopardize everyone instead of just a nation. Spend less time complaining and more decoding."

A few minutes later, Hornet read out. "Stay quiet. Stay offshore. Panama government compromised. Traitors to sirens. Meet me at the attached coordinates at 1300. I wear a white shirt, red pants and answer to Penultimo. You wear blue. Coffee shop. Send no more than two."

Taihou said, "Dramatic."

Hornet exasperatedly said, "This sounds like secret agent political stuff. They're asking for us to send only two of us. This smells fishy. We should call this in."

At first, Taihou wanted to agree. This was fairly concerning and most likely out of their league. However, she changed her mind and said, "Actually, I think we should try to handle this ourselves."

Hornet was on the fence. "Look, we kill sirens. This's humans we're talkin' about here. I know how to lead, but I don't do this… uh… subterfuge stuff."

"How about this: Let's send someone over to speak with them. If what they say is true, maybe we can stop a corrupt government from selling our secrets. It certainly would impress shikikan and prove to him that we can think outside the box. We'll be liberating people from traitors to humanity."

Hornet heard the word "liberate" and was convinced. Necessary information was relayed to the escort ships and Cleveland was assigned to meet the contact. She was instructed to arrive precisely ten minutes late to the coffee shop near the fort ruins, as explained by the coordinates. After that, she was to be discreet, but gain as much information as possible.

Cleveland replaced her usual clothing with her blue suit and black tie. Combine that with the white undershirt, and she looked snazzy. That being said, she didn't feel very much like that. As she set a course for a secluded place to come ashore, she muttered to herself, "I'm just navy! I don't know a thing about spying! Secret transmissions, codes, shaking up governments, it's not me. *Sigh* I'll just wing it. I've got my notepad and I'll just write down all the important things that they say. Come to think of it, I don't know any Spanish. Uh... Por favor, habla inglés..."

As both Taihou and Hornet watched her veer away from the fleet, Taihou said, "If all goes well, we will have solved a problem that we weren't even sent to solve in the first place."

Hornet said, "In the meantime, how about launching those scout planes with those newfangled cameras on them? Maybe we can find that siren airbase or carrier."

Taihou shrugged, "If it exists at all. I might as well make myself busy."

As Cleveland travelled alone, she noticed a small fixed wing civilian aircraft flying in the distance over the city. She wondered if there actually was a person flying it, or if it was secretly one of the sirens'. She had no way of knowing, and let it go on it's way. A few hours later, she arrived on land. She disengaged her rigging in a forested area, exited the cover of trees, and walked to her destination. The first thing that caught her eye was the very large and very old ruins of a stone watchtower. It must've been around since the age of sail, and she wondered what it would be like to be a ship powered by the wind instead of oil. She wondered what it would feel like to be made of wood instead of steel. Jean Bart was the only one she knew who could actually sail. Cleveland understood that, while she may not show it, she really enjoyed Jean Bart's monologues on the age of buccaneers, smoothbore cannons, and an equality between firearms and blades. It almost made her feel nostalgic for an era that she never experienced.

She approached the open-air coffee shop as described. As she scanned the tables, she noticed a man in a white shirt and red pants reading a travel magazine away from everyone else. The pants were more of a maroon, but they were red enough. Cleveland inhaled, held it in, and then exhaled. She walked under the roof.

The man immediately glanced at the newcomer, and they locked eyes. Cleveland broke away and ordered a small black coffee. The barista's english was passable, but they fortunately accepted dollars. Cleveland strode to the man's table, sat down, pulled a notebook out, and placed it on the table. She asked, "May I sit here?" The man said a very short, "Sure."

Then began a very awkward silence. Cleveland had no idea how to initiate this conversation and the other man appeared to be sweating bullets. She'd seen spy action movies where the two agents simply started a conversation and just organically segued into getting the plot moving. Eventually, she lost patience and flatly asked, "Penultimo?"

The man's brown eyes peeked over the paper and said, "Shhhh. I don't think we're being watched, but be careful. You wore blue. Good. Who are you?"

"I'm Cle-captain of the USS Cleveland."

"A captain? You don't have a political officer or something? I should've asked for-"

"No, it's just me. Now, what's all the fuss about?"

Penultimo's voice lowered, "You read my message, yes?"

"It was read to me, but yeah."

"I am one of the legislators in the national assembly. It's no secret that our president is weaker than most, and more interested in his public image than anything else. But now, I have proof he is making deals with the sirens. He lets them watch the people. Sometimes they make a few of the homeless disappear. In return they give him things. They give him small weapons, trinkets, and gadgets I've never seen anything like before. They give him guns that shoot light, cameras that see through walls, and short range teleporters. I hear he is planning on giving the army these things. He also asks them for gemstones and rare metals to give to his friends."

Cleveland wrote a summary of that down. She said, "Uh huh. You said you had proof?"

Penultimo reached into his shirt pocket and handed over a few small pictures. Cleveland looked at the one on top. She didn't recognize the fat man in the suit, but assumed it must be the president in question. However, the mounted siren pulse AA gun the man was standing next to she recognized all too well. Penultimo continued, "Look, the more he deals with them, the less he listens to us. He barely even pays attention to the legislature anymore. I fear he may one day try to get rid of us all."

That certainly was troubling. It was also confusing. Cleveland said the first thing that came to her mind. "Welp, you know how we do it in the navy. If he's a turncoat, then we've got to stop him."

"How?"

Cleveland said, "I dunno. Wait, if he's with the sirens, why'd he ask us for help?"

"He didn't. That was me. He lets the sirens run an airbase south of here."

"Oh, so there's an airbase. Well, I guess we could… walk up to him and tell him to stop? This isn't my thing."

Penultimo seemed almost desperate. "No, I mean… what about… the usual things? Political pressure? Blackmail? Don't you… don't you have anything on him?"

"Not that I know of. Why would we? He's just some guy. We've been so busy out at sea, we don't really pay attention to what happens on land."

The man brought his face into his hands and jammed his thumbs so hard against his forehead that it hurt. He whispered, "I don't think you understand how delicate the situation is. If my people heard that sirens have corrupted the highest levels... I called for Azur Lane because they're the only organization that I know the president doesn't have friends in."

Cleveland was defensive now. She replied, "And we came! You said your country is in trouble. This sort of stuff isn't our specialty, but it's our duty to fight the sirens wherever they are. Can we?"

Penultimo was silent for a moment. A cold sweat went through his body. It seemed he had asked for a delicate surgery, only for the metaphorical doctor to enter the room with a sledgehammer. He let out a quiet hysterical laugh and said, "Please save my country."

Cleveland smiled, drew a big checkmark on her notepad, and said, "Nice! I'll let you know when we have a plan."

"That would be fine."

Cleveland retreated into a restroom and radioed the commanding carriers and used her notes to jog her memory.

Taihou said, "For a man who is so desperate for someone to save his nation, he seems very finicky on how that is done."

Hornet commented, "Cleveland's right. It's our responsibility to fight the sirens. If they change tactics, we gotta meet 'em."

Cleveland considered this to be a successful mission. She ripped out her note paper, crumpled it up, and threw it in the bathroom trash before making her way back into the fleet. She equipped her sunglasses now that she was feeling more like an undercover agent.

Meanwhile, all of the escort ships were talking amongst themselves. Jamaica chuckled, "Four hours. It took four hours and we are already off our objectives. Naturally, my foresight never fails. I expect your wagers shortly."

There was collective grumbling over the comm, but all eventually transferred their bets to the winner. Aurora asked, "Do you get the feeling like we're doing something we're not really supposed to?" Ooshio replied, "Yeah, the feelin' from this just ain't right. I think we're in over our heads and don't know it yet. I'm sure we'll be just fine. Taihou's smart and I'm guessin' Hornet is, too."

Minutes later, a janitor entered the women's restroom to replace the trash bag. As the door closed however, he looked at the top of the refuse inside the can. He grabbed Cleveland's wadded up paper and tossed it outside an open window. With his quick task done, he returned to his normal worker duties.

On the other side of the wall, the most generic-looking of tourists walked past. He sported sunglasses, an orange hawaiian-print shirt, sandals, and an excessive amount of sunscreen. Without even breaking stride, he grabbed the wadded paper from the ground, pocketed it, and continued moving along his way.