Chapter 86: Downtime

There was a spring in Jersey's step as she bounced down the base hallways. Partly because she'd finally got herself to bounce noticeably. Not excessively, mind you. She lacked Musashi's ridiculously limitless tracts of land and utter skirt-darkening fear of anything that even looked like it might give her support.

No, her breasts were what was known in the industry as "hydrodynamically perfect", and the jiggle they created was just enough to be noticeable without being overpowering. Like a gentle spritzing of A-1 on a fine steak, instead of an entire tanker-truck of ketchup on a semi-thawed chicken patty.

Yes, Jersey was very happy about her new appearance, even if it wasn't actually new to anyone but herself. She couldn't wait to show off to Crowning, and hear whatever unusually eloquent thing he might have to say about her. But first, there was something else she had to do.

"Yo, Docboat?" Jersey pounded her knuckles against the door to Major Solette's office. "Got a minute?"

Solette glanced up from his paperwork. "Yeah," he said with guarded voice, "But Heermann's already been released to active duty."

"Oh," Jersey shrugged, "Yeah, I know. This ain't about her."

Solette blinked, then let out a resigned sigh. Clearly he'd accepted his place as the helpless army observer in this churning sea of navy insanity. "Okay, I'll bite. What's up?"

Jersey planted her hands on his desk and leaned over with a wicked grin. "Honestly…" she bit her lip, "Part of me wants to make you touch my boobs."

Solette planted his palm firmly on his face. "Jersey. I swear, have you ever heard of SHARPs?"

The battleship blinked. "No, should I have?"

"Every time you open your mouth," said Solette, "I have to write a new one."

"Yeah, but you're army," said Jersey. "Doing paper work while the real heroes fight the war is… like… why god invented you."

Solette rolled his eyes. "Uh huh."

"Anyways," Jersey slapped her hands on the desk. Hard. Hard enough to leave noticeable gouges in the wood. Every time Solette was finally getting used to the humanity—and limitless immaturity—of the shipgirls, they had to go and do something to remind him of their limitless strength. "I know you're married, so I won't ask you to touch the boobies," the battleship grumbled out. "So a salute'll do."

"Jersey," Solette shook his head. "First off, the army doesn't salute indoors."

Jersey flashed a pout that'd put his teenage daughter to shame. In her toddler years.

"Secondaly," said the major, "We're the…" the battleship's wicket grin gave him pause. "same… rank…"

Jersey smiled at him. A smile so wide her cheeks had to be hurting.

"Williams promoted you," sighed Solette, "didn't he."

Jersey nodded, her smile growing even wider. "Imma commander now!"

Solette stared down the battleship, "Your cheeks hurt doing that."

"Really a lot," Jersey let her face drop back into its normal scowl. "Now hurry up and salute me."

"Army doesn't salute indoors," said Solette.

"Army's LAAAAAAAME," whined the battleship. "Navy rules, Army drools."

"What is this, third grade?"

"There's a courtyard right over there," Jersey pointed at a door not far down the hall, "You can salute me there."

"Jersey, I have—" Solette stopped. He was going to complain about paperwork, but he really didn't have any to worry about. At least not any that couldn't wait a few minutes if it meant putting a smile on a very hard-working battleship's face.

A face that was currently giving him the most pathetic destroyer-eyes the Major had ever seen, despite being attached to the most gigantically powerful woman he'd ever seen.

"Fine," huffed Solette. "But this counts as your Christmas present."

Jersey beamed at him. "I'm totally okay with this!" With that, the battleship grabbed his hand and skipped—yes, literally skipped. Like a schoolgirl on crack—to the courtyard with a long-suffering Major reluctantly in tow.

It didn't take long for the two to reach the outside. Just long enough for Solette to walk though the chain of decisions that lead to being forced to salute a boat.

"Okay," Jersey tugged her hat on straight and fussed with her aviators until they sat just right on her nose. "There. I'm ready."

Solette chuckled, and brought a bladed hand up to the brim of his patrol cap.

Jersey mirrored the motion, although she couldn't keep her giggles down. "Thanks," she said.

"Merry Christmas, Jersey," Solette smiled and let his hand hang by his side. "Permission to hug?"

"Please," Jersey smiled, and Solette gave her a nice gentle hug. "You're a good momboat, think you'll make a fine officer."

"Thanks," Jersey closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the hug, just for a moment. "You're a good friend, Solette." She paused. "You know… for army."

The major shrugged. "Jersey, what're you standing on now?"

The battleship glanced down, and squished her feet against the rain-dampened grass. "Uh…"

"Say it."

"Grass?"

Solette fished a spare 'US ARMY' velcro tape from his pocket and stuck it against the battleship's formfitting vest. "Think that makes you honorary army now."

Jersey blinked. Then she scowled a scowl the likes of which Solette had never seen before. "LOW FUCKING BLOW!"

—|—|—

"Jersey," Crowning smiled at his closed door. There were many reasons to love the towering battleship. Her stubborn devotion to her duty, her unwavering care for those she counted under her protection, her adorable pleasure in pie… but her stealthiness as not one of them.

"Wat?" came her trademark rough-edged contralto.

"You can stop pacing and come in now."

There was a pause, but Crowning could see her beautiful face screwing up like it was right before his eyes. Somehow, she looked even prettier like that. "How could you possibly know?"

Crowning rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. "You weigh fifty thousand tons, I can hear the floor creak under your shoes from the other end of the building."

"Fifty-eight," said Jersey. Her voice had that grumbling lilt to it, like she wasn't quite sure if she was feeling irritated or amused. "If you're gonna call me fat, at least fucking get it right."

"Fine, fifty-eight," said Crowning. "But it's mostly muscle all in the right places. Now are you going to open that door or what."

Another pause, and a few muttered profanities too quiet for Crowning to catch, then the door swung open. Jersey offered a lazy, jerky wave and ducked though the doorway into his study. "Hi."

Crowning smiled at her. She was still the same battleship he'd grown to love, but… she was different.

There was a glow in her face that was fueled by something other than rage and fury. A lazy half-smile tinted more by girlish awkwardness than self-destructive loathing adorned that sculpted face of hers. Even her posture was different. Her hips set at a loose slant. And those mile-long legs of hers were on casual display in her shorts, her muscles slack instead of tense and coiled.

"Looking good," Crowning gave her a gentle hug, and tried his best not to touch her chest too inappropriately. He was trying his very hardest to look past her suddenly-displayed breasts to the warrior maiden beneath. But it was so very hard to ignore them, her new vest was practically sculpted to frame each one like a work of art.

Which, in Crowning's personal opinion, they technically were. Just like the rest of her, a great sculpture in flesh and steel forged by thousands of shipwrights and engineers. America's war machine given form.

"Thanks," Jersey blushed, her skin heating up enough that he could feel it though her shirt. "Uh… notice…" the battleship puffed her chest with all the subtle grace of an ice-skating hippopotamus. She glanced off at nothing in particular and 'casually' pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "Anything else?"

Crowning rolled his eyes. "Jersey?"

"Hmm?" The battleship shook her hips a little and smirked.

"Can I ask you something?"

The battleship's chest deflated and she shot him a glance. "Yeah, what?"

"How do you spell the word subtle?"

Jersey blinked, those stunningly pretty ice-blue eyes of hers frosting over with confusion. "I don't fucking know!" she scoffed. "I'm a battleship, we don't fucking do—" she froze mid-tirade, her face still contorted from her rant. "Oh."

Crowning rolled his eyes and stood on his toes to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "They're very nice."

The battleship's eyelashes fluttered, but the rest of her was frozen in place like a statue of steel. A statue of steel that, for all her grace and beauty, looked more confused than a baby on a Roomba.

Finally, after almost five minutes, her lips started to move, "W-wat?"

"I said they're very nice," said Crowning, shooting a quick glance to the battleship's prominently displayed chest. Her breasts might not be as big as Musashi's—not even close, actually—but Crowning didn't mind. Her proportions were prefect the way they were, and those legs could put any other girl to shame.

"No, not that," Jersey's hand balled into a fist at her side, and her head started whipping around, examining each bookshelf-coated wall with increasing desperation. "FUCK!"

Crowning arched an eyebrow.

"I need something to hit!" barked the battleship. "Why is there nothing in your room I can smash!"

The professor chuckled, and offered her one of the thick wooden trays Bannie had used to deliver dinner. "Here."

Jersey took the tray and for an instant, her energy mellowed. "You sure?"

Crowning nodded.

"Thanks!" Jersey smiled, then put her fist though the board like it wasn't even there. Splinters sprayed across the room, and Crowning had to dodge one of the heavier chunks.

"Feel better?" he asked her.

She nodded, "really a lot."

"You have no idea how to deal with your emotions, do you?"

Jersey shook her head again. "Nope!" she said with cheery pride.

Crowning let out a smile in spite of himself. "That's why I love you, Jersey."

"Aww…." the battleship's knees buckled and she feel into a lazy sitting position on the floor. "Uh…" she glanced down at herself. "I meant to do that."

Crowning didn't feel like commenting. "So, you're going to be gone for Christmas?"

She nodded, "Yeah, sorry. It's, uh… fucking… battlethings and shit."

Crowning smiled and ruffled her hair, earning a happy purr-like hum from the battleship. Her eyes rolled closed and she leaned against his leg.

"Keep doing that."

He did as he was asked, gently running his fingers though her long hair and enjoying the feel of it against his skin. "I talked with the Admiral."

"Oh?"

"We've got a truck big enough to handle you at our disposal," said Crowning. "I was thinking," he settled onto the edge of his desk, letting Jersey rest her head against his legs while he stroked her hair, "Wake you up at noon, drive down to Seattle so you can gorge yourself on pie, then join up with the destroyers in time for the movie at midnight."

Jersey's eyes fluttered open and she stared at him."Noon to midnight?"

He nodded.

"How much of a glutton do you think I am?" said Jersey. Her tone was hard to read, but Crowning got the distinct impression she would be more upset if he low-balled her than the other way around.

He could, of course, point out the obvious logistical qualifiers. Even if Jersey woke up right at the stoke of noon—a dubious prospect at the best of times—she'd still need to get showered, get dressed, probably molest Musashi a bit, and herd her DDs around before she could even get in the truck. Then there was the drive down—and the hunt for parking spaces—to account for.

But brevity, as they say, is the soul of wit.

So instead, he said only a single word. "Pie."

Jersey blinked. "Okay, given." She snuggled up against him and closed her eyes again. "Now make with the head-scratchy again."

Crowning laughed and got back to work, gently kneading and brushing her thick golden hair with her fingers. Maybe he was imagining things, but for a moment, he swore her heard her purr.

For what felt like hours, he just smiled and combed out her shimmering mane. Then, finally the battleship glanced up at him with those ice-blue eyes of hers. "Uh, Doc?"

"Hmm?" he said, a contented smile on his face.

"I, uh…" she tapped her shoe against the floor, "I've got something to ask you."

"What?" Crowning reached for his notepad, and could already feel some back corner of his mind drawing up a list of potential reference material he might need. "Anything."

"It's, uh…" Jersey bit her lip and blushed. "Kinda personal."

"Jersey," Crowning ruffled her hair up with a pat to the head. "There's not a thing you can't tell me."

"Okay." The battleship puffed her cheeks out, her skin heating by fractions as she quite literally build up a head of steam. "Will you watch me sleep?"

Crowning blinked.

"Not-" Jersey held her arms up defensively, "Not… not like that. I just… I sleep better when someone's there."

"Like an escort?" Crowning tried not to show it, but he felt awed and humbled. Not just that she'd share this sliver of vulnerability to him, but that she apparently trusted him enough to stand watch over her alone. A task normally taken up by a full picket of destroyers.

Jersey nodded. "You know… keep the bad dreams away." She blushed, "If the demons come… you know…" she thrust her hand in the air, "Stabby stabby?"

The professor smiled, "I think I can manage that." For a moment, he said nothing. Then, after a glance under his desk, he spoke again. "And… since you're going to be gone on Christmas, I thought I'd give you this now."

In an instant, Jersey went from contentedly napping at his side to clawing at his shirt and staring wild-eyed just inches from his face. "Gimme," she yelped. "Gimmegimmegimmegimme!"

Crowning managed to get a finger on her nose and gently pushed the immature battle wagon back. "It's my understanding that you made Commander."

Jersey nodded while Crowning fished something from under his desk.

"I hope you still wear a sword with your dress whites."

Jersey thought for a second. Then, once she realized what was going on, she let out a loud squeal of excitement and pounced on the desk. "GIMME!"

Crowning laughed, and tossed her the long, slender package. Jersey tore at the wrapping like a child on Christmas morning. A very large, strong child with the immaturity of a much smaller one.

"I've got a few friends back home who know their way around a forge," said the professor, "hope you like it."

The battleship roared with happiness as she unsheathed a long slender-bladed officer's sword. The metal sang in the air as she swung it, testing the balance in her hand. "Holy Hannah," she breathed, turning it over in her hand.

The blade was etched and inlaid with gold. 'Firepower for Freedom', read one side. 'First to Fight' read the other.

"Oh…" Jersey's legs started to quiver again, and she promptly shoved her ass into a chair. "Oh… this is… thank you."

"It's forged from Abyssal steel," said Crowning. "From your first kill, the dreadnoughts in the strait."

Jersey blinked, and slid her fingers along the blade. "Holy Hannah," she breathed. "That's metal as fuck."

"I thought you'd say that."

Jersey bounced to her feet and started pacing. Each step drove her more frantic, each breath pushed her razor-toothed smile wider and soaked the fire burning behind those ice-blue eyes. "I… " she glanced at her blade. "Where's chunniboat?"

Crowning shot her a confused look.

"Tenryuu," said Jersey, "you know… sword, huge tits, thinks she's the coolest thing since me?"

"She have an eyepatch?"

Jersey nodded.

"Ah," the professor smiled. "Try the sparring room. Or the destroyer's quarters."

Jersey laughed and bolted out of the room screaming "I HAVE A SWORD, MOTHERFUCKERS!" at the top of her lungs. Only to come sprinting back in, plant a kiss on his cheek, then run screaming out again.

She was so happy, Crowning almost didn't regret this.

Almost.

—|—|—

Tenryuu hunkered under the thick quilted blanket and smiled. If there was one thing the Americans always got right, it was size. The destroyer dorms were easily big enough to house all four Akatsuki sisters, and with their beds pushed together, there was even enough space for them to cuddle with their flagship for bedtime stories.

Inazuma was, as usual, snuggling half-asleep against Tenryuu's breast. The light cruiser wasn't quite sure why she was so much more stacked than her displacement would entail. She'd tried calling Janes' for clarification, but they just gave her a series of noncommittal grunts and hung up.

She didn't really care though, it was nice to have a bustline like hers. If for no other reason than destroyers liked to cuddle it. And Tenryuu, as a destroyer leader, would do anything for her division mates.

Ikazuchi smiled happily against Tenryuu's tummy. Her little ponytail tickled the cruiser's stomach every time she moved, but it was a happy kind of tickling. Akatsuki, meanwhile, sat leaning against Inazuma with a ladylike smile on her face, and Hibiki cuddled against Tenryuu's other breast with a tiny ghost of a grin on her serene face.

"Everyone set?" Tenryuu settled her reading glasses on her nose and thumbed though the pulpy pages of her book. Ever since she saw it at the base exchange, she'd been eager to give it a read, the premise just seemed too exciting, and the prologue captured her from the first word!

The four destroyers slowly signaled their acknowledgement with signal flags. The sun was down, and the sleepy DDs were falling back into their night-battle instincts.

Tenryuu cleared her throat and began. "Chapter one. Walking through the streets of Honolulu, James felt a certain sense of nostalgia." She was about to read the next sentence when the door exploded open.

The cruiser yelped in fright and tore her glasses off as fast as she could manage. Only they weren't there in the first place. Hibiki shot her a knowing glance and patted a pocket on her uniform. Clever girl.

"YO!" barked the intruder. A giant, sword-wielding American with a wild-eyed smile and, as mentioned before, a sword. "Chunniboat!"

Tenryuu fumed at her apparent nickname, "Yes, Jersey?"

"Check it!" Jersey flipped her blade around in her hand and offered it hilt-first to the sleepy light cruiser. "I have a motherfucking SWORD!"

"Oh," the moment Tenryuu's grasp closed around the hilt, she felt something… different about the blade. The balance was perfect, and it was as light and fast as a proper sword should be. But there was something else… the way the steel sang when it scythed though the air.

"It's forged from Abyssal iron," said Jersey with a wicked grin, "From those dreadnoughts I murderized my first week back."

"Wow," Tenryuu bounced to her feed, suddenly not caring if Jersey saw her fluffy pajama pants.

"I know right?" Jersey cackled, "It's so badass."

Tenryuu sliced though the air a few times as a test run. "Oh, this is awesome."

"Wanna go slice shit?" asked Jersey.

Tenryuu tossed the blade back and grabbed her own notched-back Katana, Waterline. "Very much so."

"CHAAAAARGE!" Jersey took off running with her sword held high. Tenryuu followed close on her heels with a wild cackling laugh.

Hibiki and Akatsuki shared a look. A long-suffering, tired look tempered by just a little bemusement. Then the two destroyers tucked in their sisters and turned the lights off. It was time to sleep, they'd witness the disaster's aftereffects in the morning like everyone else.