A Certain Lady Part 19

Rear Admiral Richardson sat at one of the many chairs in the United States Fleet Activities Sasebo command center, his eyes fixed on the tablet he was savaging. A long pair of cracks ran up the glass surface from where his thumb had pressed too hard into the device. He didn't really care about the damage. The thing still worked as if it were in pristine condition and that was all he needed.

His fingers sounded off like a woodpecker as he typed away message after message, communicating commands to the staff seated around the room as best he was able. He could have spoken the commands, but that would take away his voice from the individual he was currently attempting to rouse over a headset plugged into the nearest phone.

Every so often a terminal operator, or an aide, or some random person who was not of equal or greater rank would run by in a hurry to deposit some new report or piece of information in front of him. Or at least in his general vicinity on the desk he sat at.

Mutsu expertly took the physical data and ran through it with an uncanny haste. Let it not be forgotten that a battleship is a capital ship. And almost without fail, a battleship would serve as a flagship. Her command crews and her own keen ability acted as Richardson's voice in his stead.

She was not expecting a warm homecoming and was not surprised in the slightest when one did not greet her at the door.

When war raged, whether the smallest of daggers bared or the countless rifles of the Abyssal Fleet, you could not afford to waste time on frivolities. Warmth could be saved for when the bullets did not fly.

Richardson had ordered her to the command center to assist him in almost the same breath as he had greeted her over the comm at the docks. And she had hurried with all the speed she could manage. Her hair still dripped with seawater as she made her entrance.

There was little they could do aside from data processing, but it was an incredibly important task regardless. And one that required a great deal of speed and experience.

Mutsu chanced a glance at her Admiral's furious visage as he spoke into the headset with a voice that sent chills down her spine. What they had witnessed over the Global Hawk and heard over the radio channels had combined with Richardson's hated helplessness and turned him into the most bone-chilling example of machine-like efficiency she had ever seen in a man. There was no wasted movement. No hesitation. Only a soulless fury driving each motion.

She supposed there was little other recourse for his mind to take given the situation. While she didn't possess the same temperament as Richardson, she could comprehend what happened to someone when they reached a breaking point.

"Ma'am!" called one the radio operators, "We have no more reports of Battleship Princess' position. Last reported course remains on the board."

"Make sure Yokosuka knows. Keep sending Oyoodo and Nagato all information as you collect it. We can parse it and compare results later." While damage control has paramount, that did not mean they were not learning about their foe. And though cruel it may be, you could learn a lot about an opponent when they really and truly hurt you. "We'll have a full report for Admiral Goto later. Just get them what we know."

"Roger!"

It was perhaps a bit of a mercy for her to be thrown into the center of things. It kept her mind busy and from focusing too much on the fate that had befallen the fleet.

Everyone was wounded to one degree or another. And not a one who had traded fire was fit for a second round. At least not a second round they could win and still survive. Only Arizona's damage control and ludicrous armor had saved the Pennsylvania-Class from taking a far worse beating than she had.

But Hiei...

Mutsu took the hitch in her voice that threatened to give her pause and strangled it. She would rage and she would lament and she would weep later. Even if she had not been slain, the wounds inflicted upon Hiei were so close to lethal that it was nothing short of a miracle that she survived.

Maybe if she had been there, she could have helped.

The enemy was a Tosa, after all.

Or maybe it would amount to nothing?

Mutsu was not a seer, nor any kind of all knowing woman. But that knowledge did not help her guilt for simply not being there. Even if it had been her absence that had helped to fight off another, far more deadly enemy.

They really were stretched too thin...

How much longer could they keep this up? Even with the Americans' mighty aid. How much longer before someone didn't come home for dinner ever again? How soon until another Victory?

"Wardog has safely landed!" Another radio operator called out amongst the controlled chaos, snapping Mutsu from her thoughts. She could dwell on things later. When they didn't have so much to sort through.

"Good. Get them debriefed. I want their full accounting as of yesterday." Mutsu's eyes sharpened as she took another set of printouts and began reading over the nearly arcane descriptions of the Abyssal's attack and numbers.

"Parkson."

Mutsu swallowed as Richardson finally managed to connect with the individual he had been seeking over the phone. It was not a tone of voice she heard very often. Rather, it was one she could count the number of times she had heard it on one hand. But before she could think on it any further, another report had made it's way to her.

As Mutsu dealt with the command center's mayhem, Richardson awaited the reply of LTJG Annette Parkson; the current CO of Kanmusu Medical at Yokosuka Naval Base.

"Sir!" Parkson's young, almost energetic tone replied. "This doesn't sound like a social call." The hustle and bustle was plainly audible through the phone and Admiral Richardson was not a man known for calling out of the blue for fun. And the way he had said her name was honestly eerie.

"I have a fleet of eleven returning to Sasebo. One critical. Five moderate to heavy. Three light to moderate. And two without a scratch. I need you and your team on base and ready to accept." It was hard to accurately gauge just how damaged a girl was after a battle. Sometimes it was more obvious. But sometimes there could be a golden bullet hidden behind a nearly untouched hull.

For the most part, conveying a range was sufficient to get people moving.

"How critical, sir?" She was not exactly a fan of critical situations. She was good, true. Well within her ability to handle herself. And her team was nothing to sneeze at either given how new the field of shipgirl medicine was.

But there were a lot of unknowns that they couldn't completely account for. It never stopped her before. And she'd be damned if she didn't give her all to make sure every girl that came to her didn't leave with a smile and on the road to a full recovery.

Sure, it was optimistic and drew a lot of baffled or condescending looks. However she'd gird every hull with a silver lining if she had to.

It was the very least she could do.

"I'm sending you the report now. She's not seaworthy and nearly had her forward magazines detonated. In addition, her bridge and most of her radar is completely destroyed." Richardson wished he could sound like something other than the detached, unfeeling... thing he did. But if he let anything slip, he didn't know how he'd keep it together. And he had to keep it together.

"Hmm... Sounds tough. What hit her? Torpedoes? Artillery?" It helped to know what caused an injury in the first place if at all possible. It made eliminating useless treatments all that much faster.

"Artillery." Richardson narrowed his eyes. "And a plane."

"...Oh. Well, that's new. New for me at least. I don't know if the Major or Akashi have dealt with that before. Don't think so." Parkson wondered if it was like being hit by a motorcycle or some other kind of vehicle.

"Can you be here?"

"I'm already getting the troops moving, sir. Don't underestimate the Medical Corp." Or the benefits of a team that practically had their phones glued to some side of their heads. It made wakeup a lot faster. "And I've never lost a shipgirl before. I won't let her be the first!"

Richardson found the cheer to be ever so slightly refreshing. Not much, but enough that he almost cracked the sliver of a smile.

"Who is it? It'll help us get ready and this report is taking forever to download anyways. Didn't you zip it up first?" She guessed not.

"Kongou-Class Fast Battleship Hiei."

There was a silence on the other line.

"...Hiei? As in that Hiei?" The Emperor's Ship who held more combat experience than almost every shipgirl that had set sail in the war thus far? Just how fierce had the battle been if it was Hiei who was coming back in such a shape? Could she really do this without the Major? She... didn't want to imagine it. But it was still a reality she was well aware of.

People die in war.

And fortune favors no one.

"Yes."

"We'll do our best sir. We always do."

For a moment, only the sound of the command center and Parkson's shuffling about could be heard.

"...Parkson?" There was a hint of something more human in Richardson's voice. Something that had been decidedly absent for quite some time that day.

"Sir? What is it?"

"Help her. Whatever you have to do. Whatever you need. I will get it for you." Richardson's tablet fell to the table with a clatter as he brought his hands up to his face, concealing his eyes beneath their shadow. "Save my ship. Save Hiei. ...Please."

"We'll do everything we can sir. It's what we do. Parkson out."

Richardson mouthed a thank you to the silent line as Mutsu rested a hand on his shoulder.