Chapter 109: Christmas Special

Battleship New Jersey hadn't visited a sub pen before. They were almost as strange as the underwater machines that inhabited them. The air was hot and wet, it was like steaming into a fog bank only a hundred times more intense. And it stank of chlorine and alcohol with a subtle hint of the paint-peeling reek unwashed bodies crammed into a tiny metal tube tended to produce.

Instead of thick carpet, the floor was lined with wet plastic grates. Jersey felt her sneakers squelch against the deck with each step she took deeper into the pen. Her shades were already fogged up from the sheer humidity, and Jersey had to tuck them into her vest.

As far as she could tell, the pen was deserted. But that could mean anything, submarines were sneaky little bastards, and Jersey was terrifyingly aware of how deficient her torpedo defense was. The battleship's heart rate skyrocketed into a nervous eight-part cacophony. Her damage control crews stood to their stations, nervously checking and re-checking their gear while very eye not otherwise occupied scanned for torpedo trails.

Not that that'd save her. The Japs had those stupid-ass bubble-less oxygen torpedoes in their overstuffed, undersized swimsuits.

The battleship put one foot before the other, fighting against her every instinct to slip deeper into the pen. She was a surface-combatant. She belonged in the open ocean. Hell, she'd take puttering around on the moon before she'd willingly step into the distilled wrong that was a submarine's lair.

But this wasn't about her. She had a mission she had to accomplish, and she needed help to do it. So the battleship forced herself to go deeper into the quiet lair. The sound of her sneakers squelching against the wet grating sounded as loud as gunshots against the quiet backdrop of lapping water.

Unlike the surface-ship dormitories, the sub pen was dominated by a single massive pool. But it was totally empty, and there weren't enough rooms leading off it to house all the submarines, even if they were bunked in packs of ten.

"Pardon me," a quiet voice broke the silence from somewhere behind Jersey.

"FUCK!" Jersey spun on her heel, her weapons materializing in her fists as she frantically brought her rifles to bear. Klaxons screeched in her mind as she reflectively jumped to full alert.

"It's okay." A slender Japanese girl half Jersey's size stood before the towering American without so much as a flinch. An apron was tied around her narrow waist, and her face wore the exhausted, run-down happiness of a young mother.

"Shit," Jersey scowled and slammed her guns back into their carriers. "Sorry, that—"

"No," the girl—who Jersey noticed had the inexplicably full bustline that so many of the Japanese ships shared. For some goddamn reason—shook her head and planted a hand on Jersey's musclebound shoulder. "It's okay, every surface ship does that the first time she visits."

"Right," Jersey shrugged, then attempted to offer a hand and bow at the same time. "Uh… USS New Jersey."

"Submarine tender Taigei," the little tender smiled and returned the American's shake. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, uh…" Jersey coughed and rubbed a kink out of her neck. Rationally, she knew she should be at ease. But she shouldn't shake the ass-clenchingly primal terror infesting every bulkhead of her hull. "You too. Sorry… you're a tender, right?"

"Mmm," Taigei nodded and fished a little sushi roll from the bulging bags Jersey just now realized she was carrying. "The only surface ship who visits here with any regularity. Would you like one?"

Jersey smiled, "Yeah. I mean… if you're offering."

"It's nice to have company," said Taigei.

"You always this alone?" asked Jersey as she popped the sushi roll in her mouth.

Taigei shot Jersey a confused look. "I'm… not alone, Jersey."

"Dah fuq?" Jersey blinked.

"Most of my children are sleeping," said the tender. "They're exhausted after patrol, as you can imagine. But they're all here?"

Jersey screwed up her face and tried to ignore the goosebumps on the back of her neck. "Uh…" she glanced around the deserted poolroom.

"No," Taigei giggled, then pointed at the water. "Sleeping."

Jersey blinked, then leaned over to look into the glass-smooth water. Nestled at the bottom, cuddling against one another like so many top-heavy swimsuit-clad logs, was a half-dozen sleeping Japanese submarines. It would be adorable if it wasn't pants-shittingly terrifying. Looking at them all Jersey could think about was how flawed her TDS was and how defenseless against threats from the deep.

"O-" the battleship's voice cracked like plateglass, and she staggered back against the nearest wall. "Okay, uh…"

Taigei shot to Jersey's side, offering a gentle hug and a tender look that brought Jersey's racing heart down to just above redline. "Is there a reason you came?" she said.

"Uh…" Jersey just now realized she was being gently guided to a side room, with the tender acting as a ad-hoc defensive screen against the exhausted subgirls. Jersey hated herself for being so scared of the submarines of a friendly nation, but subs freaked her the hell out. "Y-yeah. You, uh… you seen Albie or Archie around?"

Taigei steered the quaking battleship into what looked like some kind of rec-room. The slatted floor was replaced by damp all-weather carpet, and there were rows of books, DVDs, and a few game consoles scattered around. Also a few beanbag chairs, which the tender all but shoved the battleship into. "I have, actually. I can fetch them if you want."

Jersey nodded, and worked her stern deeper into the soft beanbag. "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind."

Taigei smiled, and fished a juice box from her bag. "Here, I'll be right back."

Jersey waited until she was totally sure the tender was out of sight before sticking the tiny straw into the equally tiny box. She was a battleship, dammit, and a grown-ass woman. She should be downing neat bourbon and stale, boiled-over coffee. But juice is juice, and something about sipping the sweet luquid made the big battleship feel a tiny bit more at home.

"Big J?" Albie chirped out with her usual enthusiasm as she came padding thought the door.

"Gah!" Jersey leaped from her seat in fight, crushing her half-finished juicebox in her vice like grip and spraying her face with juice. "Don't do that to me here!"

"Sorry," said Albie with complete and utter lack of remorse. That's one thing about submarines, no sense of right or wrong. Which is sometimes useful when they're being military assets instead of trolling little shits. "Oh, and Archie's here too."

"Hello!" Archie waved at Jersey, then pointed to a little black clasp holding her ponytail back. A clasp with a little fish charm on it. "Do you like it?" she asked. "It was a Christmas present from Albie."

"I saw it when we were shopping in Aki," said Albie, "And I just had to get it for her."

Jersey chose to ignore the little voice in the back of her head telling her to make sure the sub actually bought it for now. Jersey had more pressing things to worry about, and she couldn't pull of her plan without the two submarines to help her.

"I do." The battleship leaned over to ruffle Archie's hair, earning a happy giggle from the Balao. "Look, there's a reason I came down here."

"I figured," said Albie.

"Yeah," Archie nodded, "You're really pale."

Jersey scowled, "Am fucking not."

"Are too," said Albie. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"Okay, fuck you." Jersey rolled her eyes and fished her wallet out of her shorts. Exactly how it got there in the first place was a mystery to her, last time she checked her shorts only had the two pockets, and there certainly never was a wallet-sized bump in her otherwise smoothly curving stern. But it was convenient so Jersey chose not to look into it any further.

"Look," Jersey dumped a giant wad of cash out on the floor. "I'm an officer in the US navy. That means I get paid."

The two subs nodded.

"And…" Jersey sank back into the beanbag. "Since housing and all my meals are on the navy's dime, it's just been sitting there. Growing. That's all of it right there." The battleship sighed and looked at the little pile that was her life's savings. Which sounded more impressive than it was, considering her "life" was barely four months.

"Okay…" Archie scratched at her temple, "What do you need us for."

Jersey told them. "Think you can do it?"

"I…" Albie puffed out her cheeks. "It'll be tight."

"Please," pleaded the battleship.

"I said it'll be tight," said the submarine. "But we'll get it done."

—|—|—

It was a quiet evening on the other side of the world.. Snow piled up outside, while deep within the Eastern Seaboard Antisubmarine command, Admiral Carraway sank into his usual chair deep within the operations center. The vast screens dominating the walls displayed real-time information gathered from all the currently deployed hovercats, P-8s, and Canadian forces watching the Atlantic were empty.

The Abyss had exhausted itself with its recent offensive, and there was nothing less to press the beleaguered Atlantic convoys. It'd be back soon, and in force. But at least for tonight, Carraway a quiet, uneventful evening to look forwards too.

Even Akron was getting into the spirit. While the air-headed airship carrier hadn't lost her penchant for filling every quiet instant with happy singing, she'd traded her usual repertoire of painfully memetic jingles she'd found on the internet for something a little more elegent.

"Silent night." And Carraway had to admit, she had a beautiful voice. "Holy Night."

"More hot-chocolate?" The minute form of Cannon-class destroyer escort USS Eldridge—"Elly" to her friends—tottered over lugging a steaming carafe nearly as big as she

"Don't mind if I do," Carraway smiled and offered his mug to his tiny secretary ship. The little destroyer escort didn't look like much, she probably could have passed for his granddaughter if she really tried. But her tiny body was at least eighty percent heart, and she'd gone all-out for Christmas.

She and her fellow DEs were tottering around the chilly base in Santa hats three sizes too big, handing out steaming hot chocolate and candy-canes to every sailor and marine on the base. Meanwhile, roving bands of faeries went from desk to desk inside the TOC, caroling in their own wordless way.

Even Akron had pitched in, during one of her few moments of downtime between patrols. The naturally-buoyant girl had chased down each and every hovercat on the base and given them all festive ribbons and little gondolas with tiny electric candles. It didn't seem like much, but watching the fat airborne felines drift aimlessly around was strangely beautiful.

Plus, even the infamously assholish cats had traded their usual looks of smug disinterested disgust for genuine happiness and contented purring. And that was a Christmas miracle if he'd ever seen one.

—|—|—

Yeoman Sarah Gale scowled at her own reflection and tried to will her cheeks to loose their rosy-red blush. She could still hear Wash and her mother going at it. Up until a few hours ago, the idea of Wash proclaiming loudly and at great length how beautiful she found her ass was among the sailor's most precious fantasies.

Now it was turning into her nightmare. Well… a pleasant sort of nightmare. On side-effect of Wash's infamous social ignorance was her utter inability to lie convincingly. Every word she said about the curviness of Gale's ass, or how she filled out her fatigues just so, or how every time the battleship saw Gale's perky butt swish by it doubled her resolve was the truth. Wash meant every word.

But still…

Her mother just had to go and ruin everything. Gale would be mad if she didn't have an even more pressing problem do deal with. A problem she hoped was just a figment of her imagination, but she'd learned never to assume anything when it came to shipgirls.

"Vestal?" Gale cradled her phone against her ear and waited for the cranky old repair ship to pick up.

"If you're drunk," came a raspy accent clipped to prickly precision by Gale's phone's tinny speaker, "It's your own damn fault."

"No," Gale bit her lip and shook her head. "Vestal, it's me. Gale."

There was a pause. Then Vestal took a deep breath and blew into her phone. Gale assumed the old auxiliary was smoking that grungy pipe of hers again. "Gale. Nice to hear from ya," she said, all trace of medical frustration gone from her suddenly-cheery voice. "Merry Christmas."

Gale smiled, "Merry Christmas, Vestal. I, uh… I have a question for you."

"Mmm," Vestal grunted for Gale to continue.

The sailor froze. She knew what she wanted to ask. Hell, she knew what the answer was probably going to be. But… going so far as to actually voice it was… It was like a dream come true, but it still tied her belly up into knots. "Uh…" Gale shook her head and forced herself to just plow right in. "Can Wash have my babies?"

The line went silent for what felt like hours. Gale prayed that the repairship was just awestruck that she'd ask such a silly question. Of course Wash couldn't carry her children, they were both women! Shipgirl or not, that just couldn't be—

"Yeah," said Vestal.

Gale blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Wash can have your babies," said the repair ship. "We're magic like that."

Gale blinked again. "W-what?"

"Can't promise you wouldn't end up pregnant too, though," said Vestal with a chuckle.

"Vestal!" Gale clutched the phone to her jaw. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I am," said Vestal. "'bout her putting a bun in your oven. That I'm not sure about."

Gale was speechless. She figured she should be horrified right now, but all she could think about was Wash cradling a little bump around her middle, and that thought made her really happy. Happier than she thought possible.

"I could send you some books if you'd like," said the repair ship.

"Uh…" Gale smiled inspite of herself. "That… that'd be nice."

"And just so you know," Vestal was starting to chuckle herself. "The Major might be army, but he's good people. We're both here for ya, Gale."

"Thanks Vestal," Gale's cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much. But she honestly didn't care at this point. "Merry christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Gale."

The sailor slipped her phone back into her pocket and opened the bathroom door. And almost ran squarely in to the generous bosom of the most beautiful battleship she'd ever laid eyes on. A battleship who might, if all went well, be carrying her children before too long. A day ago, Gale would have banished the thought in an instant. Things like that didn't happen to her.

But they had. And she couldn't express her joy.

"Wash, what are you…" Gale trailed off when she noticed what was in the battleship's raised hand. A single sprig of mistletoe.

"Sarah," Wash smiled. "I—" Before she could say another word, the sailor fainted right into her chest.

Gale's mother pounced around the corner and snapped a picture with her smartphone. "Close enough!"

—|—|—

The Gulf-coast defense command's shipgirl common room was what could be considered a disaster area. The tree was still standing—barely and at an odd angle that threatened to fall over at any minute, but standing—but that was all that could be said about it.

The floor had all but vanished under a frenzied strewing of shredded wrapping paper and frantically opened boxes, not to mention a bunch of pajama-clad shipgirls happily playing with their new toys.

The air was thick with Christmas carols—that Texas' lazy drawl occasionally joined in with—and the sent of warm cream-cheese drizzled pastries filled the room. Texas had gone out of her way to make sure each and every person on the base had their fill of her delicious cooking.

Honestly, Atago could not overstate how delicious the old battlewagon's cooking was. She'd been stationed in the American South for almost a year, and not a day went by that some kindly old woman insisted on feeding her some new and delicious delicacy. But Texas' cooking topped them all.

And the battleship—despite all Atago's protesting panpakapans—had insisted that the cruiser needed some "meat on her bones" and kept feeding Atago until her coat barely fit anymore. Even Alaska had developed a small, but noticeable bit of pudge around her otherwise chiseled middle by the time the battleship was done with her.

Texas was apparently still darting around base as fast as her tired old VTEs would take her, handing out leftovers to everyone she considered improperly pampered. Meanwhile, the younger girls were happily playing with their toys.

Alaska had followed the cruiser's advice, and bought the three Kagerous legos for Christmas. Lots of Legos. Atago had also bought the girls Legos, so they were practically drowning in the stuff. Legos were strewn over the floor in a vast sea of tiny plastic pieces that the three destroyers were slowly cobbling together creations from. Even Texas' baking hadn't torn them away from their play for more than a few minutes.

Alaska, meanwhile, had gotten a more modest haul. Not that the quiet American seemed to mind. She actually seemed more upset that her own gifts were taking attention away from the destroyers mounting excitement with each box they tore open, but that was Alaska for you.

The big cruiser had gotten the latest couple of books in the Changing Destiny series from Nachi, a big bag of Eskimo pies from the destroyers that Atago had rushed off to the freezer, all seven Star Wars movies on Blu-ray from Texas, and a few hot-wheels cars from Atago.

Alaska was playing with the hot-wheels at the moment, surprising absolutely no-one. The snowy-haired cruiser wore a smile of utter bliss as she sat splayed-out in her pajamas, gently pushing the cars back and forth on the carpet while making little "BrrrrBrrr" noises.

"'Laska?" Atago smirked and fished one last gift from under the tree. A gift she'd gone out of her way to hide until now.

"Brrrbrbr?" Alaska made confused car-engine noises and glanced up at her blonde best friend.

"I think you forgot something," Atago tossed the little package over to her waiting friend.

"What?" Alaska's face morphed into a slightly more confused version of her usual blissful bewilderment as she turned the little bundle of wrapping paper over in her fingers. "'tago, you didn't. I already got so mu-"

"This isn't from me," said Atago with a wink. "I'm just the messenger."

"You mean…" Alaska clutched the package to her chest, "Santa?"

Atago shook her head. "Someone a little closer to home, 'laska."

The big American blinked. And then her chest started heaving as she hyperventilated in place. "Is— Is—"

"Open it," giggled Atago. She honestly didn't know what the gift was. But she did know who it was from. "And read the card first."

Alaska shredded the paper in a flurry of swinging hands and nervous panting. The cruiser was barely in control of her own body at the best of times, and her excitement was only exacerbating the problem. But eventually, she was able to fish the card out from the shredded debris that was once it's envelope.

"Dear Alaska," she read. "We just got these in, thought you'd like them. Merry Christmas. Cameron." The big cruiser blinked.

"That's him, isn't it?" said Atago with a smile. "That's your boy?"

Alaska nodded furiously, but all that escaped her lips was a squeal of utter joy.

"What's in the box?" asked Atago, eager to know what her best-friend's would-be lover thought was a suitable Christmas present.

Alaska tore open the box and dumped it onto the floor. Inside was a little hot-wheels card, but this time it wasn't a car. It was a ship. An exact die-cast replica of the blushing Large Cruiser herself.

Atago hastily buttoned her blouse all the way to the top.

"Eeeeeee!" Alaska squealed in happiness and hugged the toy to her nonexistant bosom.

"There's a note too," Hamakaze glanced up from her Legos just long enough to fish a tiny folded scrap of paper from the detritus. Her eyes flew over the paper as she drank in the words. Then she too let out a happy squeal. "LASKA!"

"Hmm?" The big cruiser shook herself out of her glee-induced stupor just long enough to answer the cry of her little destroyer friend.

"It's Cameron!" Hamakaze thrust the paper under Alaska's slender nose, "He wants to ask you on a date!"

E/N: I have currently chained myself to the bridge of the USS Alaska/Atago. The captain goes down with hi*glubglubglub*