Chapter 10: Fruit Loops!
Johnston was well into her second bowl of fruit loops. That was her favorite part, she'd decided. Right when the cereal turned into a contiguous whole, and the dividing line between soggy cereal bits and sugar-laden milk simply faded into a bowl of multicolored sludge.
"I love the future!" screamed the little destroyer, turning heads clear across the officer's mess. Johnston smiled as she spooned another helping of the delicious elixir of the gods into her mouth, her body starting to buzz from the accumulated sugar high.
"That can't be good for you," sighed Hoel though a mouthful of Nutella-covered toast,"'s nothing but sugar."
"I know!" said Johnston, holding her spoon in the air like she was King Arthur himself before dramatically bringing it down to grab another mouthful of her so-called breakfast.
Heermann just quietly smiled to herself, enjoying her eggs and toast while her sisters bickered.
"Your sisters are very…" Fubuki looked over,a little ball of rice grasped between the ends of her polished wood chopsticks.
"Yup," agreed Heermann, taking another bite of toast.
"Poi~" sighed Yuudachi, her chin resting on the table as she stared at the pudding she'd gotten, apparently willing it to leap into her waiting mouth.
"Yo, nuggets!" the distinctively commanding voice of New Jersey herself instantly shook the girls out of their early-morning stupor. For a moment, there was utter calm. Johnston and Hoel stopped bickering mid-sentence, their heads slowly pivoting to face Jersey with the oiled mechanical grace of their 5in/38s.
Heermann and Fubuki abruptly dropped their conversation, the Japanese girl going stock-straight in her seat while Heermann just froze. Only Yuudachi seemed unaffected, but that was because she was going very still in the hope that she'd avoid detection.
Then, Johnston exploded into action, her spoon clattering to the floor as she threw her hands in the air. "I didn't mean to!" She said, her big brown eyes pleading as she stared up at Jersey.
"What?" said Jersey, her nose crinkling up a fraction as she stared at the little destroyer.
"Yeah, we're really sorry," said Hoel, pursing her lips and giving her best set of adorable-destroyer-eyes to Jersey.
"The hell?" grunted the battleship, looking to Heermann for an explanation.
"Uh… what my sisters mean," said the last of the trio, steeping her hands over her meal in what she hoped was a thoughtful manner, "Is that whatever we've done to make trouble for the admiral-"
"We're really really sorry," said the three taffies in harmony.
"We're trying our best to be good," said Johnston, her hands hovering in the air as she tried to decide if a hug was worth trying for. "Honest."
"Aw, hell, kids…" Jersey sighed, rubbing her temples with one hand as she stole a piece of toast off Hoel's plate, "I'm not here to- why do you think you're in trouble?"
"Because… it's eight," said Johnston.
"In the morning," added Hoel.
"So?" said Jersey, her hands crossing against her chest.
"It's eight."
"In the morning."
Jersey scowled, "Okay, first off, fuck you."
Johston beamed like she'd just gotten complimented by God—or maybe even SecNav—himself.
"And second of all, Skipper wants to see you-" Jersey waved her hand in a lazy circle, generally indicating the gaggle of destroyers, "-in the briefing room in thirty."
"Oh," said Hoel, nodding as she processed this new morsel of information. "You mean we're really not in trouble?"
"Do you wanna be?"
"N-no. Not really, no."
Jersey smiled, glancing over her shoulder at the rows of Navy culinary ratings standing behind the day's breakfast options. More than a few had gone white as sheets by the time Jersey'd turned back to her stable of destroyers. "The hell's White?"
"Oh," said Heermann, her chest puffing with pride, "she ate early. I think she's with Yeoman Gale."
The battleship nodded. "What about her?" she asked, waving in the general direction of the frozen Yuudachi.
"P-poi~" explained the Japanese destroyer.
Jersey shrugged. "Good enough. Fubuki-"
"Hai, Jersey-Sempai!"
"Know the way to the briefing room?"
Fubuki nodded.
"Outstanding. Show the taffies the way," said Jersey, her head pivoting as the smell of freshly-cooked sausage wafted though the air. "I'll… uh…" her feet brought her a few steps closer, evidently without her knowledge or consent, "I'll meet you there."
—|—|—
White sat at the very front of the briefing room, her hands poised over her open notebook, ready to take down her Admiral's every word. Around her, scattered about the desk seemingly at random, were at least a dozen tiny figures in miniature leather flying jackets.
Williams blinked. The figures remained, each holding their minute clipboards at the ready, their beady eyes locked on him.
"White?"
"Yes, Admiral?" chirped the carrier, puffing out her ruddy cheeks as she smiled.
"Are… those your pilots?"
"Mmhm!"
Williams blinked again, unsure of what he'd expected in response. Before he could let his mind slip further into the infinite abyss of ever-increasing strangeness that was commanding kanmusu, the doors burst open with a thunder of pounding destroyer footsteps.
"Sorry we're late!" barked Johnston, flying down the aisle at a dead sprint. She just barely skidded to a stop before slamming into the front of Williams' khaki uniform. "USS Johnston, reporting!" she said, snapping her hand to her brow so fast she sent the feathers of her headdress quivering.
"USS Hoel, I'm here too!" snapped Hoel, bouncing on her heels so hard she actually left the deck as she saluted.
"USS Heermann reporting," said Heermann, offering a relatively demure salute with one hand and… And a shiny red apple with the other.
"Destroyer Yuudachi here," said Yuudachi with a smile and one of her trademark "poi!"s.
"Naka-Chan, desu," said the frilly orange torpedo cruiser, throwing up a cutesy grin.
"Fubuki, desu!" said the special-type destroyer, dipping her torso in a polite bow before proceeding to her seat without further pageantry.
Williams blinked again. Without a word he turned on his heel, walking over to set the apple on the briefing room podium as he prayed for the universe to regain some kind of decorum.
"Hey," said White, her chair creaking as the little CVE bounced up and down, "Where's-"
""m here," grunted Jersey as she backed though the briefing room doors, her voice muffled by the huge chunk of buttery toast rammed up her maw. She had what looked like a solid third of the breakfast menu with her, piled high on her ample chest like it was a shelf. "Sur," she said, bumping Johnston with her hip as she scooted into a set.
"Oh, are those lemon?" said Hoel, reaching over to snag a tart off the portable buffet tray that was Jersey's chest. Johnston just let out a tiny 'eep' before turning to stare intently at Williams.
"Commander?" sighed the Admiral.
"Hmm?" Jersey gulped, an implausibly large piece of toast simply disappearing down her gullet. "Oh, right," she—with plenty of help from an enthusiastic Johnston—relocated her rack full of snacks to a neat pile on her desk. "Attention on deck!" she barked, bolting to her full height.
The other destroyers, plus one CVE, one CL, and way to many teeny aviator faries, leaped to attention with a shuffle of desks and chairs.
"As you were," said Williams, turning to the projection screen that dominated the front half of the briefing room.
With a nod from the Admiral, a map of the entire northern-Pacific flickered into existence, drawing "oohs" from the taffy-3 destroyers. NAVSTA Everett and Yokosuka naval base were pointed out with blue markers, and red hatching displayed the approximate extent of Abyssal-controlled sea. Lots of red hatching. Too much red hatching.
"This is Japan," said Williams, waving his laser-pointer at the island nation. A tiny island of blue in a sea of bloody red. "It, like most of the Pacific Islands, depend on the ocean for food. An Ocean which is currently in hostile hands."
The room was silent except for the sounds of pencils scribbling against paper.
"We," continued the Admiral, waving his pointer over the American heartland, "Have enough food and grain to supply them twice over, "But the problem is making the trans-Pacific run. The JMSDF-"
Naka leaned over to Johnston, "Japanese Navy," she whispered, sending a ripple of nods though the destroyer cadre.
"-are preoccupied with keeping what sea they have," said Williams,"and we haven't had the forces to run more than token convoys. Until now." He gave the assembled cluster of kanmusu a nod.
"We've assembled a task force of twelve modified bulk carriers-" the projector switched to display a a massive floating brick decked out in slap-dash camouflage with sandbagged missile emplacements on its bows and sterns. Jersey recognized it as one of the cargo ships she'd spotted whens she first arrived at Bremerton. "-with a total dead-weight tonnage of just over two-and-a-half-million metric tonnes."
The room was silent except for a whispered "Woooooow" from Hoel and a surprised "ppoi~" from Yuudachi.
"And we're sending them all in one go," said Williams, tabbing back to the map of the Pacific and watching as a dotted line arched up along the Alaskan coast before dashing for Japan. "Japan's been running on borrowed time, but if we pull this off, we'll buy them a month. Maybe more."
The destroyers nodded, and White's pilots doubled over their clipboards, tiny pencils scribbling furiously.
"Abyssal forces," continued Williams, "Have so far been concentrated in the western Pacific, which means once you cross the IDL, you'll be running into the heart of enemy-held waters."
Johnston and Hoel smirked, sharing a high-five much less stealthily than they thought while Heermann just rolled her eyes.
Williams huffed, tapping his hands against his pants pockets for a moment. "Due to the great importance of this convoy… you'll be joined by Japanese kanmusu for the final leg."
The room fell silent as Williams gazed at the assembled girls.
"That won't be a problem, sir!" said Hoel.
"Yeah!" said Johnston, "Nips are our friends now, right?"
"Johnston?" sighed Jersey, rubbing at her temples.
"Yeah?" chirped the feathered little murderball.
"Fuck it," breathed the battleship, "You tried."
"Sir," said Heermann, her hand held so high in the air it was almost touching the lighting fixtures.
"Yes, Heermann?" said Williams.
"Do we know who'll make up the SDF task force?"
The Admiral sighed, "I'm afraid not. The situation's too fluid, but they'll send what ships they can spare." He paused, glancing at his briefing notes to find his place. "Task force will depart at 0300 on the 5th under overall command of USS New Jersey."
Jersey nodded, scribbling something down on the notebook she'd fished out of her mountain of snacks. "Uh… White, I'd like to get with you and discuss ASW tactics before we ship out."
White nodded, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of working so close to a battleship. "Sure thing!"
Williams tapped his hands against the podium with an air of finality, "I'm sure you've all got matters to handle before H-hour, I suggest you get to them. Any questions should be addressed to Jersey or myself. Look over the plan," he nodded to the pile of manila folders at the front of the briefing room, "and don't be shy about expressing your opinions. You girls have more applicable surface warfare experience than anyone alive."
Johnston beamed.
"Dismissed."
The room exploded with the sound of chairs skidding against linoleum and running shoes padding across the floor. Johnston and Hoel bolted for the folders, both hell-bent on being the first to grab the manila tomes from heavenly instructions. The other destroyers—and White—were a little more organized, and Jersey just slouched back in her chair, picking at a pop tart.
"Jersey?" said Williams.
"Yeah?" said the battleship, glancing up with a pop-tart resting against her breast.
The Admiral glanced at the pack of destroyers, waiting until they'd filed out. "Keep an eye on those girls."
"Sir?" said Jersey, brushing crumbs off her navy-blue shirt as she walked over.
"If we're going to win this war, we need to go on the offensive," said Williams, his hands resting in his pockets as he stared at the bloody map. "And there's no way in hell we can do that with one battleship, three destroyers and a CVE. Not if we want to keep convoys running."
"You… you want to bring IJN boats here?" asked Jersey, the cogs in her brain whirring away behind those chillingly blue eyes.
Williams nodded, "Which we can't do if Taffy 3 goes all…"
"Murder-happy?"
"Yeah," said Williams with a smirk, "So watch them. If they can't interact with IJN personnel-"
"I don't think it'll be a problem, sir," said Jersey, puffing her cheeks out before slowly sighing the air back out. "Those girls… they're terrified of letting you down. They won't like it, but they won't cause trouble."
"Let's hope," said Williams. "And Jersey, one more thing."
"Sir?"
"You're scheduled for a press conference tomorrow evening."
In an instant Jersey's composure shifted from calm, collected Naval officer to little girl who just got told she had to take the garbage out and do the dishes. "Oh shit, really?"
Williams nodded, "People are scared. Of the war, of the Abyssals… hell, even of you." He waved in the general direction of the shipgirl dorms. "SecNav wants you in front of a camera. We need to show people that we're still in the fight."
"And… that I'm not some monster, right, sir?" said Jersey, "That's why Naka does her…" the battleship splayed her knees in a passable impression of the torpedo-cruiser-idol's cutesy poses, "weird…jap… singer shit, right?"
Williams nodded again.
"Straight from SecNav?"
"Yeah."
"Fine," said the battleship with a scowl, "but I'm not putting on a dress!"