Chapter 21: Shall Defend.

"What if we're looking at it the wrong way?" said Crowning, idly stroking the developing stubble on his chin as he stared at the scribble-covered white board.

Gale grunted, scowling to herself as she balled up yet another piece of paper and let it fall into the mound gathering at her feet. "We've been at this for hours, Doc," she said, running her hands though her hair as she leaned back in her chair. "What-" she let out a long yawn, "What else is there?"

"Well…" Crowning stood, walking aimlessly towards the board as an idea started to ferment in the back corner of his mind. "What if…" he picked up the eraser, spinning it over in his hand to present the felt side to the board. "We discount Jersey." He dragged the eraser across the board, wiping out the spot where Gale had written 'Jersey—-? Pie?'

"Hey, Doc, what're you-" Gale stopped mid-exclamation, her extended hand falling lamely to her desk. She sighed, "Continue."

Crowning tapped the Styrofoam eraser against the tip of his nose, "Jersey's special… we were trying to summon her when she was sunk."

Gale jerked her hands wider in an exasperated display of 'yes, and?'

"We'd been begging her to come back for weeks," continued the professor, the outside world starting to tune out around him as his mind built up a head of steam. Hmm… maybe he'd been spending too much time around the ship girls if steam was the metaphor his mind immediately went to.

He shook it off, letting this train of thought wander were it may, "We tried every trick in the book. Hell, even Victory got in on it. I think…" he stopped, drumming his hands against the white board frame, "I think they were in the middle of a ritual when she took that torpedo. There were hundreds of us begging her to come back, and the second she could…"

"Wait." Gale was suddenly sitting straight up."Say… say that again."

"Victory got in on it?"

"No no…" Gale's exhausted face was suddenly beaming with energy as she bounced up to the board,"The… you said there were hundreds of you begging Big J to rise?"

Crowning nodded. Then his eyes went wide as well. "Holy shit," he breathed. "How did we miss that."

Williams took a long sip from his steaming mug of oil-black coffee, letting the foul, salty, yet somehow comfortingly familiar taste hang on his palette for a moment. Even with all his girls gone, the mystical bullshit they seemed to generate wouldn't give him a moment's peace. Coffee, as disgusting as it might be, was his only refuge.

The Admiral set his cup back down on his desk. The mug made a soft clink of ceramic on polished wood as it touched down behind a pile of requisition orders.

"So… Yeoman," he said, "would you like to explain why you're bashing down my door at oh-six-hundred?" he asked, steepling his fingers as he gave the manically-smiling sailor his most stoic Admiral Stare. She'd found something, he knew she was sure of it. But months of disappointment had taught him to temper his expectations. "Perhaps using words, instead of one long utterance?"

—|—|—

"Uh… sorry sir," said Gale, biting her lip as she stood at attention, "I.. haven't really slept much in the past few days."

Williams sighed. He'd blame her, but he was doing the very same himself. The very fate of the Pacific war hinged on Jersey's convoy.

"We've found it, sir," said Crowning.

"The secret to the summoning," added Gale.

"It's people."

Williams gave the two a long, blank stare.

"Uh," Gale gulped, "I mean… it's people, sir. Plural." She glanced at Crowning, clearly begging the academic to take over.

"Every time we've pulled off a summoning, it was with people—hundreds of them—cheering the girls on," said Crowning. "Before Jersey showed up, there were hundreds of us trying to summon her."

"And during Jersey's first battle," added Gale, "Right before White showed up, every man and woman on this base was glued to the TV. Hell, there were probably millions watching on CNN all across the world."

"And every last one of them," concluded Crowning, "Was urging her on. Our girls are Americans. They won't answer to a single man, to a king or regent, or even an Admiral… they've earned their sleep."

The professor leaned in, his voice dropping an octave as he reached out to grasp the point he was about to make. "But a hundred, a thousand, or even a million voices crying out in unison, reminding them of the country they served, and the glory they once carried… what red-blooded American could resist such a calling?"

Williams bit back a smile. He wanted to believe, wanted desperately to believe… "Okay, you've explained Jersey, White, and the Taffies. What about Sammy?"

"Well," Gale stepped forwards, absentmindedly wringing her hands as she gathered her thoughts. "When that convoy hit the water, I sure as hell was wishing those girls well, and don't tell me you weren't."

"Maybe that… or maybe she didn't think she was needed," said Crowning. "She's an escort, right? Her convoy, her… her charges were safely in port when we called."

"But once they sailed out," interrupted Gale, "she had to tag along. Sir… look at how she acted during Leyte."

"She hung back with the carriers," said Crowning, his voice dropping into an almost theatrical register, "Avoiding the action she was never built for until, until her carriers were put in harms way." He paused, a smile flickering across his face as he locked his gaze on Williams.

"Then she lost all sense of self-preservation," said the Professor, leaning in as he continued his story, "And charged into battle like a mother protecting her cubs."

Williams tapped his fingers against the tip of his nose. He wanted it to be true. Wanted so desperately for it to be true… "What do you need?"

"A band," said Crowning.

"And every Marine, Sailor, and contractor you can spare," said Gale. "And… probably then some."

Williams allowed himself a brief smirk. "Is that all?" he said, reaching for his phone, "I'll have every available man report to the summoning room at eighteen-hundred."

"Won't let you down, sir!" said Gale, beaming as she bounced on her heels.

—|—|—

Darkness. Peace. One might even call it serenity.

She liked it.

She wondered if anyone still remembered her, though she doubted it. She'd been just one ship. One lone ship doing her duty among a fleet of heroes and gods.

Hornet, the bringer of hope in her nation's darkest hour. The ship who did the impossible, who gave her all to make god himself bleed.

Yorktown, the hero who simply refused even death. The ship who came back from the very brink of the abyss to land one final blow. The Savior when her nation needed a shield.

Enterprise… Enterprise the very incarnation of her nation. The ship that beat every odd, who took a pounding again and again and returned ready for one more blow. The ship who gave her all, who stood alone against the might of the Enemy and stopped them cold.

Johnston, Hoel… the valiant destroyers who refused fate's games and made death itself cower in fear.

Her accolades were far humbler. She'd met her opposite on The Enemy's side over Ironbottom sound, the ship she was built to engage. Met, and triumphed though her crews bravery and training.

She was happy. She'd done her duty well, she'd made her country proud.

And she'd brought her crew home alive. Through all her action, she'd kept them alive, every last one of them.

Only to have four stolen from her.

General Quarters.

The call resonated though a hull she hadn't had for decades, summoning scraps of steel and iron from the very corners of her home.

Her boilers slotted into place, glistening like new.

General Quarters.

Her turbines spun up, churning the ocean to foam as she build up steam.

General Quarters.

She was back from the breakers. Back in action.

It'd been a long, long time.

When the missiles came, she'd thought her task was over.

But a thousand voices told her otherwise. Told her she was needed.

Told her she had to be once more.

General Quarters.

She didn't know how, or why… but the age of the gun was back.

And she was the very number one with her guns.

And her nation needed her.

And she Shall Defend!

—|—|—

As the last dying chords of AC/DC's "Back In Black" echoed across the packed-to-capacity summoning hall, what seemed like the entire navy base held its collective breath.

Every eye pivoted down to the newcomer standing on the waves, her shoulders thrust back at parade rest.

She looked for all the world like Jersey's little sister. She wasn't quite as tall, and her russet brown braid only hung to the middle of her back.

But she had the very same build, tall and solid. Her legs were wrapped in the toned muscle of a runner or rugby player, though her shorts were longer than Jersey's. The sleeves of her crisp white sailor top were rolled up to her elbows, and the snug fabric showed off her shapely figure.

Her face was calm, almost serene, and her steel-gray eyes traced out the thousands of faces staring down at her with calm aplomb. She had grace, poise as she seemed to take in her new situation, her hands resting on the twin revolvers hanging off her hips.

Finally, Admiral Williams broke the silence, stepping forwards to address the new girl. "Report."

The girl snapped to attention, her queenly face flickering in a warm smile. "Sir, USS Washington, BB-56, reporting." Her hand slowly came up to her brow, forming a salute with oiled mechanical precision. "It's good to be back, sir."

A/N: What? the fic's called Belated Battleships. Another was was going to show up sooner or later.