Chapter 27: Busy Busy Busy!
Jersey knew what sleep was like. Both from her own experience of collapsing onto her bed after a long day, and from the memories of her crew shuffling into their racks after a battle. She knew what it was like to rest, but this… this was more than mere rest.
The battleship floated on her back in the pool of warm, bubbling saltwater. She could sense the warmth of a tiny escort carrier curled up against her chest. Jersey's borrowed bikini was just a little too skimpy to keep White's hair from tickling the bare skin of her breast every time she took a breath.
Even with her eyes closed—or eye as it were, she could tell her face was still missing a solid chunk of… face—she could tell the taffies were standing watch over her. Silent escorts though the night.
Jersey smiled. This wasn't just rest. This was… peace.
And mere seconds after she'd made that revelation, the piercing sound of a bosun's whistle shrieked though… though her own bridge. The cry echoed for a moment in her head.
Right. She was a battleship of the United States navy. She had duties to perform, regardless of how appealing bath cuddles were to her.
First item on the agenda: find the base Admiral and report in. She was already pushing up against insubordination by sleeping—she checked her chronometer—fourteen hours!
Before Jersey could throughly panic, she felt her stomach tense up, whining at her with the rumble of a quartermaster fairy. Okay… Item Two on the agenda: Get food. Food equals fuel, but it also—apparently—equals repair parts.
Jersey took one last breath, letting every last drop of peaceful pleasure soak though her pore before she gingerly opened her eye.
And found all four taffies, Sammy included, staring down at her with concern writ large on their little faces.
Jersey gulped. Here she was, lying on her back in a bikini that was at once too snug to cover her hips and too loose to cover her bust… and Johnston wasn't even trying to sneak a peek.
It couldn't be her wounds either. A quick call to her damage-control fairy confirmed she was healing up. Her skin might be tender and fresh, but at least it wasn't torn up and bleeding anymore. "Okay, spill it."
"Y-your belly," said Johnston, haltingly raising a hand to point at the battleship's exposed midriff.
Jersey glanced down, carefully adjusting White's head to get a good look at her belly. Her scar was still stubbornly present, a ragged mass of chewed-up tissue lighting-bolted across her muscular flank. "Yeah, I got a scar," said Jersey, "so what?"
Hoel shook her head. "It wasn't like that before."
Sammy wrung her hands, "It was like… you were a ship."
"We could see into your boiler room," said Johnston.
"There was torn steel," said Heermann, "You were leaking oil all over the place."
Jersey let out a long sigh. She might have discounted it as some pathetic attempt at a joke. But all four of them looked deadly serious. Even Johnston didn't have the faintest hint of a smirk on that face of hers.
Ah hell, looks like she had three pressing issues to deal with today.
"Okay," said the battleship, gently tugging White's head off her breast. She grunted, pulling herself out of the calming water and plopping herself down on the poolside with a wet squelch. "Where's Arizona?"
Hoel looked at Sammy for a second. "I dunno, she said she had a thing."
"A thing," deadpanned Jersey.
"Yeah," said Johnston, "A mission or something, I didn't really ask."
"We were too busy watching over you," said Hoel.
"She had to check in with Mutsu," said Heermann.
"Oh yeah," Johnston nodded in agreement.
"Girls!" Jersey snapped at them. "Focus… please." She scowled at them, clutching her belly as her stomach grumbled an angry protest at the sad state of her fuel bunkers.
"Sorry," said the three destroyers in harmony.
"Miss Kongou said she'd bring breakfast," added Sammy. The little destroyer-escort jerked her arm up to check her watch, shoving her oversized sleeve back with her free hand, "She said she'd be here-"
"Breakfast Time, Dess!" Kongou didn't walk into the bath house. The hyperactive fast battleship just appeared in an explosion of billowing white silk and flowing brown hair.
Jersey didn't bother questioning just how she did it. Not when Kongou brought an almost-overflowing breakfast tray along with her. The American battleship was almost drooling at the smell oven-fresh scones and freshly-cooked bacon. Not to mention a tall thermos of the best-smelling tea she'd seen in her life!
"You look so much better, dess!" smiled Kongou, bouncing over like a giant smiling rabbit bearing food.
Jersey opened her mouth to respond, but Kongou happily shoved a scone in the opening before the American could produce as much as a single syllable. Instead, Jersey let out a happy "mmMm! Guh" as she happily munched on the warm cherry scone.
Kongou beamed in response, frantically toweling Jersey down with the softest bath towel Jersey'd ever even seen.
And then… Jersey felt reality fracture around her. She could've sworn Kongou split into two or three copies of herself.
The Japanese girl frantically dragged her though the shower, dried her off, switched the American into a new outfit, all while making sure Jersey always had a fresh scone in her mouth and a full cup of tea in her hand.
And just as as suddenly as it begun, the whirlwind of Dess vanished. Kongou popped up in front of the taller American, beaming an incandescent smile at Jersey.
Jersey took a second to swallow. She wasn't wearing her borrowed swimsuit any more, Kongou must've taken it off… at some point in her flurry of activity. In its place, Jersey wore standard navy PT-shorts, a yellow sweatshirt with "US NAVY" proudly emblazoned across the front in blue lettering, and… and…
Jersey's eyes—or eye, as it were—went wide and she clapped her hands to her chest."Kongou?"
Kongou smiled, "Yes?"
"How… how did you know my size?" said the battleship, clutching her hands protectively to her chest.
"Jane's Fighting Ships, Dess!"
"Oh," Jersey shrugged, her hands falling back to her sides. That made sense, all her measurements were in the public domain after all. Before she could say anything more, Kongou abruptly rammed another scone down Jersey's mouth and trotted off.
"Time to see Teitoku~" sing-songed Kongou as she skipped along the concrete, a smile on her face as she bounced along. Her flowing hair and sleeves whipped every which way in the light breeze, but the determined tuft of hair on her head stood sock-still. Almost like it was pointing to one building in particular.
Jersey scarfed down her scone, wiping crumbs from her face with the back of her hand. "Kongou, have-"
The Japanese battleship didn't let her finish. Before Jersey could get another word in, there was a thermos of warm tea being pressed to her lips.
Jersey might have raised a fuss, but the tea was… was amazing. Strong and milky and sweet… but there was something else. Something that elevated it from simply tasty to the very nectar of the gods. "Kongou," said Jersey, tearing herself away from the thermos when less than half remained. "What is this?"
"Builder's tea!" said Kongou with a grin, "I brew it with saltwater too."
"Oooooooh," Jersey nodded, the pieces falling into place in her mind. "Oh, shit." Another realization hit her, "Kongou, is anyone going to look in on the taffies?"
"Mmhm," nodded Kongou. "Tenryuu said she'd look after them until Arizona-San's back."
"Tenryuu, huh?" Jersey smiled. What Johnston would do with that sword…
"Don't tell her I said so," said Kongou, leaning in with a conspiratorial wink, "But she's really sweet when she wants to be."
Jersey smirked. Couldn't think of who that reminded her of.
For a full second, the two battleships walked in silence. Together, they came to a pair of double-doors protected by armed guards—both of whom shot Kongou a friendly smile.
Jerse stopped just before going in. "Hey, Kongou…" she scratched at her head.
Kongou glanced over, her eyebrows creeping up as she listened.
"You… ever hear of a shipgirl's wounds mirroring her actual hull?"
"You mean the actual… original hull? The one you sailed as during the war?"
Jersey nodded.
"No," said Kongou, "that's…" the battleship pursed her lips, a frustrated look passing over her face. "You should ask Teitoku." She spun on her heel, bouncing back onto the sidewalk.
"Wait, where are you-"
"Fleet practice, dess!"
Jersey shrugged. She couldn't really be mad. Not after Kongou'd already spent so much time making sure Jersey and her girls felt comfortable. Oh well, she was in the admin building. Finding the Admiral's office should just be a matter of-
"Ow! Fuck me!" Jersey must've misjudged the angle when she spun around on her heel. Instead of passing neatly though one of the double doors, she'd smashed nose-first into the central divider, leaving a solid dent.
Before she could complain any further, a clatter of dropped papers and pens drew her attention to a white-faced little destroyer girl. Kagerou- or maybe Yuugumo-class by the looks of her.
"Sup," grunted Jersey, rubbing at her nose with one hand. It wasn't broken, as much as the dinged divider suggested otherwise.
"H-hello, Battleship-sama," said the destroyer girl, somehow managing to bow and salute at the same time. "Kiyoshimo desu!"
"Oooookay," said Jersey, giving her nose another brief rub. "Know where I can find the Admiral?"
"Oh!" the little destroyer girl snapped to so hard she bounced into the air. "Third door in the portside!"
"kay," said Jersey, "Thanks, Kiyoshimo."
The destroyer girl beamed, but Jersey was already halfway down the hall. Was everyone on this base insane? Before she could brood any further, she came to the right door. A frosted-glass plate bore gold lettering mark it as the office of an Admiral Goto Isoroku.
Jersey pulled her sweatshirt smooth, doing her best to look presentable while out of uniform. "Admiral?" she asked, gently rapping on the glass pane.
"Enter," game a gravelly, only lightly-accented, voice.
Jersey took one final second to make sure what hair she'd grown back was playing nice, then threw the door open and stepped though. "Battleship New Jersey, BB-62 reporting, sir!"
"As you were," said the man behind the desk. He looked younger than her Admiral, but not by much. He seemed to radiate a field of conniving slyness. Which made sense, he'd been fighting a war from a nation constitutionally forbidden from having a military. And holding his own… That shit took wiles.
"Sir," Jersey smiled, dropping to parade rest. "I'm… I should've reported in earlier, sir. I apologize."
The Admiral scoffed, "Really? Mutsu, Kongou, and Kirishima all agree that you were in desperate need of repair."
"Just a flesh wound, sir," said Jersey, her voice softer than usual, "I could've made it."
"Doesn't mean you should've. It's good to have you with us," said the Admiral, his stony face cracking into an honest smile. "You and that convoy both. You don't know how big a weight it is off our shoulders."
Jersey blushed. "T-thank you, sir. It was my honor, but… credit really goes to White, the destroyers, and Naka."
"You stressed as much in your report," said the Admiral, tapping the stapled-together papers on his desk.
Jersey winced. She'd typed that up while the convoy was sprinting to Hokkaido… she was honestly surprised it was even readable.
"It's pretty spare on the details," added the Admiral. He raised one eyebrow at Jersey.
"I know, sir," said Jersey, wringing her hands behind her back. "I lost my radar early on, and the Abyssal main force was hiding behind the horizon."
"Main force?" said the Admiral, gesturing for Jersey to expand her point.
"Yes sir," said Jersey, "PT boats can't range that far on their own, and heavy-bombers need… some kind of landing strip. I'm guessing… maybe an island they've occupied. An Abyssal installation of some kind."
The Admiral nodded, "That fits with our understanding. And, I've got Iku on recon duty. Hopefully she'll give us a better picture of the abyssal force."
Jersey nodded, "Sir, there's one other-"
Before the battleship could finish her sentence, a tall girl with glasses and a headset hanging around her neck burst in. "Teitoku! Kaga made contact ahead of schedule!"
"Shit," hissed the Admiral, his chair skidding back as he lept to his feet. "I'm needed in CnC," he said, practically sprinting past Jersey, "Nagato will answer any further questions."
"Uh, okay, but…" Jersey's voice trailed off as she realized she was speaking to an empty room. She understood why everyone here was so jumpy… but it was still a lot for the battleship-girl to handle. She drummed her hands against her thighs, clicking her tongue as she built a plan of action.
First order of business: remove thy ass from the high sanctuary of The Admiral's Office.
Jersey quickly backed out, making sure to gently close the door behind her.
Second order of business: Find Nagato.
"Nagato… Nagato… Nagato…" Jersey muttered to herself, scanning down the rows of doors, finally settling on one marked 'Secretary Ship Nagato.' The battleship cocked one eyebrow at the title as she walked over and wrapped her knuckles against the glass.
"Come in," came a low-pitched voice not unlike her own.
"Hey…" Jersey swung the door open, making sure she didn't smack her face into anything this time. "USS New Jersey," she said, sizing up the Japanese battleship.
She wasn't much taller than Kongou… but she was certainly… significantly… bigger. In areas. And her tight-fitting sleeveless crop-top didn't do a thing to hide all that topweight. Damnit, were all Japanese battleships like this?
"What can I do for you, Jersey?" asked Nagato, folding her hands in front of her face and staring up at the American.
"Okay, uh… I had a few questions to ask," said Jersey, forcing herself to look the Japanese heavy in the eyes, not her exposed abs or… elsewhere.
"Of course," said Nagato, "Admiral Goto figured you'd be curious. I'm at your disposal, Jersey."
"Okay, first off…" said Jersey, her hands resting against her hips to try and play-up her strengths. "Why's a battleship pushing pencils?"
Nagato gave Jersey a confused look for a second, her brows knitting fractionally as her mind crunched away. "Ah, you mean why am I but a secretary?"
Jersey nodded.
"I'm not," said Nagato, "At least not how you understand it. The translation is… vague at best."
"So what's your real job?" said Jersey, shifting her weight from one hip to the other, making sure to show off her best assets to her Japanese counterpart.
"I'm the Admiral's aide," said Nagato, her already impressive chest swelling with pride, "his surface warfare consultant, and I look after the physical and mental well-being of our kanmusu fleet." She paused, "Though yes, I do assist in the paperwork from time to time."
Jersey smiled. "That's more'n I do," she said, feeling her stomach start to rumble.
Apparently, Nagato heard it too. The Japanese battleship stifled a smile. "Shall we continue this discussion over lunch?"
"Oh fuck yes."
—|—|—
Yeoman Gale rubbed the last grains of sleep from her eyes as she shuffled into the barracks washroom. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were rumpled, and whoever coined the phrase "Beauty sleep" had clearly never seen an actual person sleep before.
"Monin' Gale!" Yeoman Jennifer Bowers shot Gale one of her trademark winking smile.
Gale grunted in response. She'd always found her old friend's peppyness in the morning to be grating. But that was before she met USS-perfect-lady-at-all-times-Washington. At least Bowers had the good grace to look messy and disheveled in the morning.
"You got much on your plate?" asked Bowers, somehow managing to speak while brushing her teeth.
"Nah," Gale splashed nearly-freezing water over her face, sending the the last holdouts of sleep running for their white flags. "Girls are gone."
Bowers chuckled, "And Williams hasn't given you any new assignment."
Gale shook her head. "No, and I'm not gonna push it," she said, scowling at the general wear and tear wrangling destroyers had caused to her face. "Those girls…" she trailed off in a sighing grunt.
"Can't decide if you want to hug them or kill them?"
"Pretty much," said Gale. "I thought Poi was bad… then I meat the Taffies."
Bowers smiled, ruffling Gale's hair with her free hand. "Aww… I know you love them."
Gale let out an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah… I guess I do."
"That's very nice of you," said another voice. The… the trade-mark silky-smooth music of a particular North Carolina-class battleship.
Gale slowly turned on her heel, praying that she'd somehow imagined the voice. But reality refused to bend to her will. Standing at the next sink over was the toweringly shapely form of USS Washington.
And she looked as immaculately pretty as ever. Her russet brown hair fell down past her waist in a flowing, shimmering sea. She was still wearing the clothes Gale'd lent her, which wasn't inherently a problem. Gale had too much crap filling her closet anyway. No… the problem was how she wore it! The battleship filled out Gale's old clothes like she'd been sewn into them. Her bust stretched the NAVY logo until it bulged like the cinemascope logo.
"The fuck?" blurted out Gale. "W-when did you get here?"
Wash tilted her head, her flowing hair cascading across her shoulder with photo shoot perfect grace. "Two minutes ago," she said with certainty.
Gale glanced from the exemplar of feminine perfection to her old friend Bowers, disbelief writ large on her face.
"I…wow," Bowers stared at the battleship, jealousy plainly evident on her face. In fact…everyone in the washroom was staring jealousy at Wash. The only variable was the degree of subtly.
Wash didn't even notice. She just hummed a little tune to herself as she finished cleaning up. It wasn't until she started doing her braid up that she even recognized people were looking at her. "It's about breakfast time," she said, "would any of you like to join me?"
"No!" said Gale, throwing her arms out to protect the crowd of sailors from the humiliation that was dining with miss Wash. "No. No one does."
Wash gave the Yeoman a bemused look, then smiled brightly. "Very well, Have a pleasant day!"
—|—|—
Jersey stared at the small mountain of rice on her plate, her face twisted into an angry scowl as she jammed her chopsticks into it again and again. It wasn't that she didn't know how to use chopsticks… she'd eaten the meat and vegetable courses of her lunch with her normal breathless haste. But the rice… She never came up with more than two or three grains stick between the tips.
"Nagato…" said Jersey, throwing her chopsticks down in disgust and grabbing a mound of rice with her bare hand. "These are like… the worst possible utensils for eating rice."
Nagato didn't say a word. The battleship just let out a measured sigh, her gloved hand reaching up to scratch the bridge of her sharp nose. "Perhaps you simply need more practice?"
Jersey's mouth was too full of rice to speak, so she contented herself with a shrug of acquiescence.
Nagato smiled. "Your girls have taken this new world rather well."
Jersey swallowed. "New world?" She said, cocking her eyebrow in question. "Oh, you mean the whole… demonic ships from the deep thing."
"That, and fighting on the same side as the Imperial Japanese warships that sank them."
"Sank some of them," corrected Jersey, jabbing her finger in the general direction of Nagato's heavily armored collar. "But, uh… I'm honestly more surprised at how well your girls took it."
"Hmm?" Nagato uttered a demure hum of questioning, motioning for Jersey to continue as she plucked a bite off her massive ball of rice.
"Well…" Jersey tapped her fingers against the table. "Mine came back to the same America they left. Top of the world… democracy… all that shit. And, uh…" she pursed her lips, puffing her cheeks out before sucking them in again. "And we knew we were going to win the war. Just a matter of time."
Nagato nodded, "I could hardly dispute that."
"But your girls," continued Jersey, "Modern Japan's nothing like the empire. No one's committing hari-kari left and right…"
"Harakiri," corrected Nagato.
"Yeah, that," said Jersey. "I would've thought you'd have more issues."
Nagato took another bite of her rice, chewing with slow, deliberate motions as she formed her thoughts into an ordered row. She swallowed, her chopsticks coming to rest against her plate with a tiny click of bamboo on plastic. "And that, Jersey, is why we have not."
"Eh?" Jersey tilted her head to the side in confusion.
"Have you heard of Bataan?" asked Nagato, "Or perhaps Nanking? We fought on the side of the monsters once. We were the demons. We have no desire to be such again."
"Y-you're trying to redeem yourselves?" said Jersey, stuttering as she felt a tangled mass of emotions flash though her magazines towards her bridge.
Nagato nodded, wordlessly taking another bite of her rice.
Jersey tapped her heel against the floor. "Done a hell of a job so far," she said. Before her face could crack, she grabbed another fistful of rice and inhaled the whole clump with a loud gulp.
"Arizona's been the most bothersome, actually," said Nagato. The corners of the battleship's lips quivered into a hint of a smile as Jersey demolished her plate, but she reigned in back to her stoic, stony mask at the last second.
"Oh?" said Jersey, worry tinting her face.
"She doesn't approve of my sister's outfit. Nor mine."
The American didn't react for a split-second. Then she burst out laughing, sending bits of half-chewed rice flying though the air and spattering all over Nagato's impeccable white top. "'cause you dress like- like fucking…" the battleship stopped as she was overcome by chuckles. "
Nagato did her best to keep a straight face while the American caught her breath.
"Okay…" Jersey finally found her breath once more, "That skirt… it's like… it's a fucking pleated belt. Not…" Jersey didn't even try to hide her glance up and down Nagato's excessive bust and fully-displayed abs, "Not that you don't have the body to pull it off or anything."
The Japanese battleship, member of the Big Seven and for years the very embodiment of Japanese Naval Might… blushed. Her cheeks flushed a pale pink as she struggled to regain her composure. "You Americans… a girl in every port, hmm?"
"Apparently," said Jersey with a smirk. "It's not a stereotype for a reason."
Before Nagato could respond, the doors to the mess hall blew open and three hyperactive destroyers surged though.
"Jersey!" screamed Johnston, her body tucked down in a flat-out sprint towards her flagship. Her running shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor as she ducked and weaved around Japanese ships and sailors alike. She neatly vaulted a table, skidding the last few inches on her butt before falling back onto her feet and slamming into Jersey's bust at flak speed.
Hoel and Heermann followed mere seconds later, slamming into Jersey as if they didn't understand the very concept of "brakes." The three Fletcher-class girls didn't displace nearly enough even move a freshly-fed Iowa. Instead, they simply piled up around her in a huge pile of sleeveless sailor tops and cuddles.
For an instant, the entire mess hall was deathly quiet. Then Johnston's head popped up from where she'd crash-landed. "We missed you!"
"We really did," said Hoel.
"But miss Tenryuu said you were busy," said Heermann.
"So we got breakfast with her," finished Johnston, squeezing herself tighter against Jersey as she hugged her flagship with all the strength her little arms could manage.
"Heh, thanks guys," said Jersey, ruffling Johnston's feathers with one hand and Heermann's hair with the other.
Nagato had gone suspiciously quiet. Her lips were tightly pursed as she fought down a smile.
"Oh, hey!" said Johnston, peeling herself out of the hug to wave at the Japanese battleship. "Shit, uh…" the little destroyer bowed from the waist, her sisters flowing a few seconds behind.
"Arigato, Nagato… uh… san?" said Hoel.
"It's nice to meet you, miss Nagato," said Heermann.
"Wait," Jersey gave the girls a sideways look, "How'd you know this is Nagato?"
"Because she's Nagato class," said Johnston.
"And we already met Mutsu," said Hoel.
"She's the one who suggested we join you for lunch," said Heermann.
"Did she now," said Nagato, folding her arms with a very tiny, very sly smirk.
"Mmhm!" said Hoel.
"Well…" Nagato's cheeks blushed a shade redder, though Jersey was the only American to notice. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Johnston-tan, Hoel-tan, and Heermann-tan."
"Tan?" muttered Jersey, more to herself than anyone. She'd have to ask Kongou what that meant.
"Same!" said Johnston, plowing ahead like the battleship hadn't said a thing out of place. She propped herself up on the table, leering past Nagato's heaping lunch at her very exposed belly. "Holy Hannah… look at her abs!"
The other two destroyers bounced over in a flurry of bobbing ponytails. Both didn't even try to hide their stares of awed envy.
"Look at those abs," breathed Hoel.
"I like her belt too," added Heermann.
Nagato's blush was getting redder by the second. Not that she was doing anything to stopthe destroyers. She just stood stock-still in her seat, holding her head high in stoic determination.
Jersey sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Kids…"
"Oh, don't worry, skipper!" said Johnston, bounding over to give Jersey—or at least her belly—a huge hug. "Your abs are still waaay better."
"Uh, Miss Nagato?" asked Hoel, wringing her hands behind her back.
"Hai?" Nagato blinked away… something as she dipped her head to meet the destroyer's eyes.
"How come you're so much bigger than Skipper?"
"I'm…" Nagato paused, glancing from herself to the much taller American.
"Not there," said Johnston. "She means why are you so stacked!"
"Yeah, you've got pagodas on your pagodas," added Hoel. "Jersey's just kinda-" she nodded to the American's less impressive bust.
"Okay!" said Jersey, shoving Johnston off her waist. "Go bother Tenryuu again.
"But-"
"Go!" Jersey shooed the destroyers away with a wave of her hand.
The three destroyers bounced to a highly-energetic version of attention. Their hands snapped to their brows for an instant before they bolted for the door.
It took Nagato a full minute after the destroyers left to regain her usual complexion. "So…" she said, "sore subject, Jersey?"
"Could say that," said Jersey, hunkering over what was left of her rice. "Could maybe say I'm a bit jealous too."
"Don't be," said Nagato, "You're a fast battleship, and an American one at that."
Jersey shot her a questioning look.
"You were never built to match me in my realm," said Nagato, "Just as I was never built to match you in yours." The Japanese battleship pointed towards her American counterpart's broader hips and massively stronger legs. "I flank at twenty-six-point five," she said. "I understand you can beat that with half your boilers cold."
"Barely," mumbled Jersey, "But, uh… thanks. Nagato. I get what you're going for… thanks."
Nagato smiled, dipping her head in a polite little bow.
For a minute, the two battleships ate in silence. Nagato was as demure as ever as she effortlessly plucked morsels from the rice ball with her chopsticks. Jersey was noticeably less so as she rammed her chopsticks into the rice and tried to tear a chunk off. She finally succeeded in getting a good-sized chunk into her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, then stared at Nagato, her chopsticks tapping out a rough cadence against her plate.
"Nagato?"
"Hmm?" Nagato raised an eyebrow as she dabbed her napkin against her mouth.
"You ever…" Jersey waved her hands in the air in an inarticulate attempt to describe her point, "You ever hear about a shipgirl mirroring the wound that sunk her?"
Nagato shook her head. "No… if we did…" she shrugged, "I would be radioactive, Naka would be blown in two… Your navy sunk a great many of us during the war. Why do you ask?"
Jersey glanced around, making sure no one was too close before she leaned in to Nagato. "Because I've got this scar on my side, right over my boilers. And every time I fall asleep, in turns into ragged steel and leaking oil."
Nagato let out a very tiny gasp, her eyes ratcheting a hair wider. "That's…" she sat back, her fingertips steepled in thought. "That's very strange."
"You're telling me."
"I'm afraid I can't help," said Nagato, "This is… quite perplexing. I've never heard of something quite like it."
"Yeah," sighed Jersey, taking a long drink of seawater. "All this magical crap is too much for me."
—|—|—
Admiral Williams settled into his chair. The old leather formed around him like a tailored glove, giving him a throne of comfort while he addressed all the profoundly uncomfortable duties his rank and position entailed. At least today was shaping up to be one of the nice ones. The convoy, the source of so much worry for months, had made it to Japan safely. His girls hadn't taken any damage they couldn't heal away. And the Admiral had a fresh cup of scalding-hot coffee waiting for him in his mug. This would not be a good day. But it might, perhaps, not be the worst.
Williams sighed, taking a sip of his salty black coffee as he opened up his e-mail. And noticed three messages from his girls. Whatever hopes he had for the day shattered into a million pieces as he read the first subject line.
From: "USS Johnston"
To: "VADM Samuel Williams"
Subject: I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TOO
I'm SO SORRY! Please please please please don't be mad at me! I was tired and worried about Jersey and we'd been dodging planes and pt boats all day and night and I just pointed my tubes at Miss Kongou when I shouldn't have and I made her mad and I made Jersey mad and I shouldn't have done it there's no excuse for what I did just please please please don't be mad at me I'll do whatever I have to to make it up.
I meant to tell you as soon as we made port but White was all sleepy and Jersey was feeling terrible and I wanted to watch over them so I did that instead of calling you like I should have and I'M SORRY! Please please please don't scrap me I can still fight I can run convoys or something just please forgive me and let me keep fighting.
I know what I did was wrong and I won't do it again I promise.
Williams sighed, rubbing his eyes as he tried to parse the unholy mess of run-on sentences. Before he could get thoroughly worried, he opened the next email.
from: "USS New Jersey"
To: "VADM Samuel Williams"
Subject: An apology for my actions.
Admiral Williams,
During the convoy run to Japan, I acted in a shameful manner. When Kongou's battlegroup—who'd done nothing but help us the entire time—pulled alongside, I not only allowed Johnston to flag her with her torpedo tubes, I threatened to fire my own weapons on IJN Kongou.
I've apologized to Kongou, but I must also apologize to you. For this mission, I am supposed to represent you to our allies in Japan. Yet my first act upon meeting said allies was to threaten violence upon them. I shouldn't have done this, and I knew that full well. But I let the stresses of combat and the exhaustion of my battle wounds overcome me.
I apologize for my actions, and I assure you that such actions will never happen again.
New Jersey.
PS: Can shipgirls get medals? White was a real trooper the whole run, I'd recommend her for something, but I'm not even sure where to start.
PPS: Could you arrange for a skype call with Doctor Crowning? I'm not sure how complicated of a process that is, but I'm guessing it's pretty involved.
Williams made a mental note to have Naka teach Jersey how to properly use her computer sometime in the future. But before he could go any further, his attention was drawn to yet a third E-mail with an unfamiliar header.
From: "KONGOU DESS!" .mil
To: "VADM Samuel Williams"
Subject: Don't blame your girls, Dess!
Dear Admiral Williams,
You probably got letters from your girls about what happened off Alaska. If you haven't, here's a brief summary. After a full day and night of exhausting combat, Johnston allowed her torpedo tubes to briefly point along my track, and Jersey made it known that she loved her girls. And that she'd protect them even if it meant firing upon me!
Given our past history, I don't blame either girl for what they did. And I'd like to point out that Johnston was willing to attack me all by herself, while Ryuujou had air superiority.
Both girls were prompt and profuse with their apologies, and none have caused any problems since. (The taffies have bent over backwards, figuratively speaking, to be polite and respectful since they've arrived, Dess!)
You shouldn't get mad at them for what they did! Please allow them to continue to serve with us!
Respectfully, JDS Kongou.
—|—|—
Jersey settled herself into the soothing repair-pool water and let out a sigh of sheer contentment. Her belly, flat as it was, was fully to bursting with Kongou's delicious roast beef, peas, carrots, potatoes, and that weird bread thing that Kongou insisted was a form of pudding.
The Japanese battleship had even gone out of her way to buy Jersey a swimsuit that actually fit her; a snug-fitting racing bikini cut high enough to preserve the fast-battleship modesty paired with swim trunks loose enough to be comfortable around her hips.
"Mmmhm…" White let out a sleepy purr as she curled up in her sleep, snuggling up tight against her flagship.
Jersey smiled, ruffling the little carrier's hair. The final element to her sheer contentment… adorable carrier girls snuggling up tight against her. "Hey, kiddo," she said.
White purred again, a tired smile spreading across her chubby little face.
Jersey smiled too. She wanted nothing more than to hold White and never let go… but she was the flagship. She had other things to look after, including her own well being. "Gimme a second, kiddo," she whispered, gently disentangling herself from the carrier's embrace and swimming over to the pool side.
White let out a tiny sigh, but quickly curled up into a sleepy ball in the middle of the pool.
Jersey couldn't help but smile at that, but she had to get answers. The battleship rested her elbows against the poolside, her eyebrows knitting in concentration as she stared down the special water-proof laptop the Admiral hand provided her.
"Okay…" she clicked her tongue, staring at the keyboard like it was a ticking bomb. "So… I click the thing…" she fumbled with the trackpad, biting back curses as she struggled to bring the pointer over her target. A little more to the left… a little more… NO! TOO FAR! TOO FUCKING FAR!
After roughly ten minutes of increasingly frustrated clicking, Jersey'd finally gotten the Skype window open. She was logged in—apperently—now she just had to wait…
The battleship sighed, letting her breasts pile up against the poolside. Purely to get comfortable, she didn't have the slightest interest in looking good for her friend. Well… maybe a smidgen… she didn't want to shock him with the gash on her face after-
"Hello?" The laptop let out a gentle "boop" and the screen shifted to a somewhat jittery, but still watchable, video feed. Professor Crowning sat in what Jersey assumed was his quarters, dressed in a warm collared sweater with a mug sitting just inside the frame.
"Doc!" Jersey beamed at him, "Thanks for calling so early… It's pretty late over there, yeah?"
"Only midnight," said Crowning with a weary smile, his gaze drifting up towards the missing chunk of Jersey's face. "Mishap with your parrot?"
"What?"
"Your face," said Crowning, waving his hand over his own, "You're missing an eye… pirate…"
"Oh," said Jersey, her smile brightening, "Oh… heh," she hurriedly stifled a laugh. "Please don't make me laugh, White's trying to sleep."
Crowning held his hands up in surrender. "Of course, Jersey."
"Thanks," said the battleship, brushing a few strands of hair over her face to hide her wound as best she could. "Hey, ah… this a secure line?"
"As far as can be," said Crowning.
"I mean… no one's listening just offscreen, are they?"
Crowning made a show of looking over his shoulder, "Nah, all alone on my end. What about you?"
"White's sleeping," said Jersey, reflexively glancing towards the tired little escort carrier, "poor thing was a real trooper the whole convoy. Sammy's hanging out with Yuu- with Poi, and the taffies are joining Naka's livestream."
"Does Naka know that?"
"I honestly didn't ask," deadpanned Jersey.
For a second, both Jersey and Crowning held straight faces. Then Jersey devolved into snorted laughter. "I said don't make me laugh!"
"You did that to yourself, Jersey," said Crowning, "I can't be held accountable for your actions."
Jersey made a face at him.
"Anyways, what's up?" asked Crowning, "I don't imagine this is just a social call… is your face, uh… healing, or , uh… repairing well?"
"What, this?" Jersey waved to what was left of her face, "It's just a flesh-wound doc. Gimme another day or two and I'm right as rain."
"You sure?"
"Yes, mother," said Jersey with a schoolgirl smile. "I got the best damn DC crew in the world working on me. She sighed, tugging at her swimsuit to make sure she was fully covered. "But, uh… there is one thing."
Crowning leaned forwards, staring at her with intense worry. "Jersey?"
"I got the scar," said Jersey, "The one on my belly, you've seen it. It's… when I'm sleeping, it turns into torn metal…"
"Like a ship?"
"Yeah," said Jersey, "You can see into my boilers and everything…" she pursed her lips, tapping her fingers against the tile poolside. "Look… this is way to magical for me, maybe it's up your alley?"
Crowning thought for a second. Then another second. Then his face went white as a sheet.
"Doc?" said Jersey in a voice that sounded weaker than she hoped. "Is… is everything alright?"
The professor took a second to gather his breath. "Um… yeah. I, um… I think I know what's causing this. But you're not gonna like it."
Jersey nodded, resting her chin against the tile as she waited for him to continue.
"You're a very protective person," said Crowning, "And… it's because of what happened at Samar, right? You feel like you could've saved them. But you didn't, and you're trying to atone for that."
Jersey nodded again, her one good eye getting watery at the thought.
"Jersey…" Crowning rubbed his temple, "How much do you remember from when you were- from between your decommissioning and your summoning."
"Nothing," said Jersey, "Shadows… feelings… nothing concrete."
Crowning nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. "We were trying to summon you for weeks," he said, "trying everything we could… begging you to come back. And I know… I know you wanted to… maybe something was holding you down… We were trying to summon you up until the very moment you died."
Jersey let out a tiny gasp. It made sense… it made too much sense. They'd been begging her to come back… She'd listen to their cries, she'd felt them—felt her people, the ones she'd sworn to protect—get snuffed out on her deck trying to rouse her to action. The battleship sniffed, blinking back tears as she stared at her own reflection in the tile. "So…" her voice was quiet, almost a wispier, "this is… this is just because I'm insecure or some shit?"
"It's because you're a proud warrior," said Crowning, "And a loving protector."
Jersey gave him a sideways look.
"You love your girls, and your country with every fibre of your being," said Crowning, "You'll move mountains and do the impossible for them… and even that's not good enough for you."
Jersey smirked in spite of herself. "Just doing my job," she said softly.
"And everyone here thanks you for it," said Crowning. "But right now, your job is to heal up. And get back in the fight."
Jersey bit her lip. "You just want another kiss, don't you."
"I wouldn't say no to one."
"When I get back," said Jersey, looking over her shoulder to make absolutely certain a sleeping CVE was her only company. "Until then," she said, kissing her fingers and pressing them against the screen.
Crowning smiled. "Until then," he said, touching his own hand to the screen. "Good night, Jersey."
Jersey yawned. "Mmm… night," she said, shutting the laptop and sinking into the water. The feeling of White snuggling up to her was the battleship's last waking memory before sleep took hold of her.