Henderson Field, Midway Island, June 21, 2018
To say the situation was tense right now, was a bit of an understatement. Smith had to act fast to defuse the problem. He raised a hand and yelled, "Stand down, everyone." He wasn't really worried about anyone being shot, the ship girls had been authorized to carry sidearms on the base, but were not issued ammunition. The only loaded weapons being leveled at the girl were the pair of carbines being carried by the Marine sentries.
"Alright shove off you lot, you have other duties that need to be done," Boggs bellowed in the tone of voice that only chief petty officers seem to have, the one that makes everyone in the area stop and listen. Smith turned to look at the new girl, who was currently laying on top of Miyata's sprawled form. She was about Miyata's height and had long, flowing brown hair. Smith could hear that she was muttering something to Miyata in Japanese. The only word that Smith recognized from the exchange was, "admiral" repeated several times. Smith had to suppress a chuckle at the sight.
He asked, "You need a hand their commander?" Miyata gave a muffled response. Boggs took matters into his own hands, and grabbed the girl by the back of her white dress hoisting her struggling form off of Miyata.
"That's enough of that," Boggs said gruffly, wrapping his arms around the girl as she tried to break free from his grip. Miyata stood up slowly, dusting himself off as he rose.
"Captain Smith, may I present the fast battleship Kongou, your liaison," he said after a second. Kongou said something in Japanese which Smith took to be a greeting of some kind. Miyata looked at her and said, "Kongou, this is an American base, please use English."
"Oh, okay, hello yanks," she said giving Smith a friendly wave. Smith was a little stunned at the rapid switch in language and shot Miyata a questioning look.
"Kongou was originally constructed by Vickers in England," Miyata supplied.
"That explains it," Smith replied, then asked Miyata, "You seem to be acquainted with Ms. Kongou commander. Care to fill me in on that?"
"I used to be her... commander," he replied sheepishly.
"The admiral was a very good admiral, he led us to many victories," Kongou spoke up.
Smith chose to ignore her as he continued, "I propose we move this conversation to my office, no sense in stirring up more trouble than we need to. Kongou, if I tell the Chief to let you go, will you behave?"
"Yes I'll behave," she said with a pout, "Why would you think I wouldn't?"
Boggs began to open his mouth, but Smith cut him off, "Don't answer that chief." Smith gave Boggs a dismissive wave and the big master chief let go of the comparatively tiny Japanese battleship.
"Come on," Smith said, "My office is just on the other side of the parking apron." When the walked through the door to the HQ, Smith looked back to see Kongou clinging to Miyata's side. I'm going to have to ask what that's all about later, he thought. "So, do you have transfer orders?" Smith asked once everyone was seated.
"Transfer orders?" Kongou parroted, a blank expression on her face.
"Kongou did you receive a packet of paper before you left the main base?" Miyata clarified.
"Oh, yes," she said producing a slightly crumpled piece of paper from out of nowhere. Smith read over it quickly and then passed it to Miyata.
"You know a Captain Muriname?" Smith asked.
"Yes, he was my successor," Miyata replied, skimming the sheet.
"Admiral Muriname is my admiral, but he is not as good as Admiral Miyata," Kongou announced, looking back at Miyata.
I really need to figure out what that's all about, Smith thought again. "Kongou, my name is Captain James Smith and I command this base and the ship girls attached here," Smith said.
She bounced up and grabbed Smith's hand before he knew what was happening, "Hello admiral, it is very nice to meet you. I've heard that you have a force of American kanmusu just waiting to jump into the battle with us against the forces of the Abyssals."
"And that now includes you if these orders are correct," Smith said, trying to recover his hand from the enthusiastic battleship's grasp, "Right now, Kongou, you are a liaison, which means that my staff will be pumping you for information sometime later."
"I'm always happy to help the admiral," she said cheerfully.
"Good," Smith replied, "Chief, could you go take our guest and go find SoDak. Tell her that she is to offer Kongou all courtesy, and take her on a tour of the base."
"Sir, do you think that that's a wise idea?" Boggs protested.
"Dakota is a resourceful girl, she can handle this," Smith said, his tone indicating that he wanted no further questions.
"Aye aye sir," Boggs replied, then stood up.
"Dakota? South Dakota or North Dakota? Or are you yanks hiding another Dakota that I don't know about," Kongou rambled.
"USS South Dakota, She's probably in the battleship barracks, she is the barracks captain now," Smith offered as Boggs lead Kongou out of the room. Though, "lead," might not be the right word for it. He put a hand on Kongou's back and shoved her through the door. "So, commander, what's her deal?" Smith asked Miyata after he was sure that Kongou was out of earshot.
"Kongou is... energetic," Miyata replied, "Do not take me wrong, she is a good ship and an excellent warrior. It's just that she can be a little... eccentric at times."
"Eccentric how?" Smith asked warily.
"Captain what I told you earlier, my capacity as an officer in the kanmusu program was a little more extensive than I led you to believe. I was, in fact, the commander of the very first program. I found myself in situations much like you are now, having to learn everything from scratch," Miyata reviled.
"What does that have to do with Kongou," Smith asked.
"Kongou was one of the kanmusu to come back, she was a pivotal member of my fleet for a long time. She has led the kanmusu of my country to many victories over the Abyssals," Miyata continued.
"What about the eccentricities you spoke of?" Smith asked.
"Primarily, Kongou takes the fact the she was built by the British seriously, she thinks and acts like a British expatriate. As you saw, she speaks fluent English. She speaks it as a first language as well. When speaking Japanese, she sometimes slips in random English words and phrases by mistake," Miyata commented. "May I see those orders again?" Miyata asked. Smith nodded and slipped the paper back over the desk towards Miyata.
"Something amusing commander," Smith asked after Miyata broke out into a peal of laughter.
"There is a handwritten note at the bottom of this meant for me," Miyata explained, 'if this is to be believed, after I left the base Kongou pestered Captain Muriname constantly as to my location. After he finally relented and told her, she began to pester him constantly trying to be re-assigned to the same base as I was. He finally gave in and sent her here."
Smith chuckled for a second then asked, "So what's with her and you?"
"Captain?" Miyata asked not understanding.
"Commander, she jumped out of the plane and tacked you. Then while we were walking up here she was all but hanging off of your arm, and when we came in here, the look on her face indicated to me, that her fondest wish at the moment was to sit on your lap," Smith listed.
"Captain, as I have said in the past, our base was run somewhat... differently from your own. There were no regular personnel on it. Only kanmusu, and myself. So it followed that some of the girls would become... infatuated with myself, and Kongou is one of those," Miyata stated, his face coloring with embarrassment, "She is of the belief that she is in love with me."
Smith tried to hide his laughter but failed miserable, "You're telling me that that girl, the one who is the personification of a multi-thousand ton battlecruiser, is in love with her commander?"
"Infatuated really," Miyata replied growing even redder, "And an emotion that I do not reciprocate."
"Look my policy is that I do not care what the sailors under my command do in the free time. So long as it does not break any major regs, or compromise their fighting ability," Smith said, completely serious, "Do I have to remind you that while a member of my staff, your disciple falls under the Uniform Code of Military Justice? And that there are several passages in there that strictly limit the relationships that officers may have while on active service?"
"Captain, I assure you, I have no feelings toward Kongou," Miyata reassured, "At least not of a romantic nature."
"Good, I would hate to call you up for Captain's Mast, because I would," Smith commented, referring to the process of giving punishment to junior personnel by the commanding officer. "Now that that's over with, you indicated that there were more than one of these girls who were smitten with you?"
"Yes captain," Miyata admitted, "It was all rather embarrassing at times."
"You do realize that I'm not letting you out of this room until you tell me about it," Smith announced, standing up to go retrieve a pair of drinks from his fridge.
"So I had gathered," Miyata muttered as he caught the tossed drink.
South Dakota was currently sitting in the common room of the battleship barracks, simply trying to kill time. She was sitting in a chair pulled up to a long, fifteen place dining table, placed in the center of the room. In front of her sat a white coffee mug emblazoned across the side with the legend, "USS South Dakota BB-57," and a silhouette of her old battleship likeness. It was filled with steaming hot, black coffee and every so often she would raise the mug to her lips and take a sip of its contents. She was a bit lost in thought at the moment, thinking about how just how much responsibility had been piled on her just because she was the first. Captain of the barracks and de-facto commander of the battleships, it was a long way from that cowering girl she had been when she had woken up in that hospital room.
To this day she couldn't think back to that day without feeling mad at herself. She was the USS South Dakota, a proud battleship of the United States Navy, and the first thing that she had wanted to do with this new form of hers, was run away and hide. She should have stood tall and announced for all to hear, "I am the USS South Dakota and I am ready to fight." But she had taken one look at her surroundings, and had tried to run away. She still felt ashamed of that decision to this day.
Now, due to her being summoned first, she was the highest ranking battleship, and was responsible for the rest of the battleships on the base. What that meant, most of the time, was that she was responsible for solving arguments before the escalated too far, and the battleships on base sure loved to argue. "Hey Dakota, question?" Dakota looked over at the other occupants of the room. At the other end of the table, two girls sat, a chess board between them. The one who had spoken was the USS Nevada, BB-36, a petite girl with long, wavy blonde hair and a trim figure.
"What is it," Dakota replied.
"Do you have any idea when we will go on a combat mission?" Nevada replied.
"Sometime after I finish beating your ass at this game," quipped the girl across from Nevada, the USS Pennsylvania, BB-38. Pennsy, as everyone called her much to her chagrin, was tall, just shy of 5' 10", and cut a very attractive figure, a fact that she wouldn't hesitate to remind you of. She was the one that started most of the more, violent, arguments that Dakota had had to resolve.
"I don't know for sure, but it has to be sometime soon," Dakota replied, completely ignoring Pennsy's quip.
"Okay, just as long as it's relatively soon. I don't like having to sit around here all day doing nothing," Nevada replied, then moved one of her pieces on the board, "Check."
"What?" Pennsy cried in disbelief, then leaned down to look closely at the board.
"I know how you feel," Dakota commented, "Free time, what a concept. The only free time that I had before this was when I was tied up to a pier or lying in a dry-dock."
"Now we have a set duty day, then everything else is our time to use," Nevada replied.
After staring at the board for several seconds, Pennsy forcefully grabbed a piece and shoved it forward, "Hah, take that," she cried with triumph.
Nevada calmly took one of her pieces and moved it one space, "Checkmate," she announced levelly.
"Wha...wha..what?" Pennsy blubbered studying the board carefully. Dakota quickly raised the coffee mug to her lips in order to hide the smirk that was forming at the sight of Pennsy's comeuppance.
"Speaking of which," Nevada began, ignoring Pennsy's shocked muttering, "When is our next training session. I mean full on, in the water maneuvering and shooting at targets training session."
"I heard the captain mention something about running a war game with the entire fleet," Dakota commented, "Don't know when, just everyone will be in it and it will happen before we begin combat operations for real."
"And then everyone can see my awesome gunnery skills," Pennsy bragged, finally recovering.
"You'll have to beat me first," Nevada shot back. Dakota was about to cut them off, when she heard the sound of the door being opened.
"Hey Dakota, you in here?" she looked up to see Chief Boggs standing just inside the door.
"In here," Dakota replied, "So what can I do you for master chief?"
"First, I need to introduce her," he said, pulling a girl into the room. She was wearing an intricate costume that Dakota had never seen before, and had her hair done up in a very strange style.
She raised a hand and said cheerfully, "Hello."
"Who..." Dakota asked.
"Battleship South Dakota, meet the Japanese battlecruiser Kongou," Boggs announced.
"Fast battleship," Kongou interrupted.
"She's our new ship girl liaison," Boggs continued heedless of Kongou's interruption.
"And, what am I supposed to do with her, I have enough to deal with already with the constant arguments?" Dakota asked sounding a bit overwhelmed.
"I resent that," Pennsy complained.
"Oh shut up," Nevada retorted, "You start most of them.
"Well I don't try to," Pennsy shot back, "But as much as I would like to stay and finish this little verbal debate, I have business down at the armory." Pennsy stood up and quickly left the room.
"Is she always like that?" Boggs asked.
"Pretty much, yesterday she got into a two hour long argument with Arkansas about which was real tea, sweet or unsweet," Dakota replied.
At the mention of tea, Kongou perked up, "You have tea?"
"Yea, in the carafe on the counter," Dakota replied offhand, making a vague gesture towards the area in question.
"Well the skipper says that because she's a battleship, she's your problem," Boggs stated firmly, "Plus he thought that you might be more, level headed than most. Not letting past differences getting in the way of present conflicts and all that jazz."
"So what am I supposed to do with her?" Dakota asked.
"Take her on a tour of the base, let her know how we operate around here," Boggs suggested, "And for God's sake, don't let her get into any trouble." Dakota looked over to where the Kongou was filling a mug from the pitcher. She raised it to her lips and took a sip, and then promptly spat the liquid out, disgusted.
"This is NOT TEA!" she exclaimed, "TEA does not taste like THAT!"
"It was Arkansas's turn to make the tea," Nevada explained, "And the was she makes it, she dumps sugar in until she cant mix any more sugar in."
"Well if you don't need me here, I'll leave you ladies to it," Boggs said, and then made a hasty retreat out of the barracks. Dakota looked over to where Kongou was still standing, mug of tea in hand, a look of pure disgust in her face.
"If you want regular tea, I think there are some plain black teabags in the cabinet," Dakota said, making her way over to the small kitchenette at the back of the common room.
"Teabag?" Kongou said, a look of complete incomprehension on her face. Dakota groaned, then filled a spare mug with water and threw it in a microwave to heat up.
"So what's your story?" Nevada asked while they waited for the tea to brew.
"I am the English returnee Kongou," she announced cheerfully, "Born in England and raised in Japan."
"Well, I am the battleship South Dakota, but everyone around here calls me Dakota," Dakota greeted, "You speak English pretty good for someone from Japan."
"Knowing the English language is essential for an English returnee such as myself," she replied proudly.
"I'm Nevada by the way, battleship BB-36," Nevada announced, then slid the cup of tea across the counter to Kongou, "I hope that's good enough."
"This will have to do for now," Kongou acknowledged.
"Well the chief told me to give you the rundown on how things operate around here, so here goes," Dakota began, "We operate with probably a bit more discipline then you're used to here. Reveille is at 0700 every morning, but you don't have to be out of bed until your assigned duty day begins. We have a color ceremony every Tuesday morning at 0730, you have to be awake and on the parade ground for that, no exceptions."
"Color ceremony?" Kongou asked.
"Flag raising ceremony, we call it colors," Dakota explained, "We also try to follow US Navy uniform regulations as close as we can, but the captain has the authority to waive that if he so decides. I would go talk to him later about writing in an exception for you before some over-eager petty officer decides to rack your ass for being out of uniform."
"So do you want to give her a tour, or do you want me to do that?" Nevada asked.
"Depends, you want to?" Dakota replied, "Reminds me, you okay with sharing the top floor with her? You're the only one up there currently, and I would like to distance her from Pennsy's attitude if I could."
"I don't mind at all," Nevada answered.
"Okay Kongou, finish your tea, and we'll go on a tour of the facilities," Dakota said, turning back to Kongou. The Japanese girl nodded her acknowledgment then quickly jumped to her feet. About an hour later Dakota was almost done with her tour. She had shown Kongou most of the base's main points of interest, the different barracks, the main HQ, the training ranges, and the mess hall. They were now walking down the road to the main club. Kongou had made this difficult by insisting on loudly introducing herself to everyone they passed, ship girl and regular personnel alike. Dakota had gone from trying to dissuade it, to silently laughing as she watched the faces of people as the energetic Japanese battleship tried to introduce herself.
Dakota saw someone coming down the road from the other direction. It took a moment for her to recognize the girl. She was small, shorter than a destroyer, and had bright red hair. This was the one person Dakota had hoped not to meet on this little tour. "Uh, Kongou, you might not want to..." she warned, but it was to late. Kongou had already bounded ahead.
"So who are you?" Kongou asked, "You look like a destroyer, are you a destroyer?"
The girl looked up at the battleship pestering her with questions, and said, "Destroyer escort actually."
"A destroyer escort huh, we don't have any of those in my navy, so what do you do?" Kongou pushed on.
"Convoy escort, and sub chasing," the girl replied flatly.
"Well nice to meet you miss destroyer escort, my name is Kongou, first of the Kongou class of fast battleships," Kongou said proudly. Something in the girl's face cracked when she heard Kongou's name.
She looked at Kongou for a long second, then shouted, "Your 14" rifles wont save you now." She lunged towards Kongou, arms outstretched and fists balled. Luckicly Dakota had foreseen this very occurrence and had placed herself between Kongou and the little DE. Dakota caught the smaller girl by the back of the uniform and pinned her with an outstretched arm.
"Kongou, meet the USS Samuel B. Roberts," Dakota said, holding the squirming escort against her chest, "But we call her Sammy for short."
"Lemme go SoDak, lemme go," Sammy said trying to break free, "I'm gonna show her who can win in a fair fight."
"Come on Sammy, we're not at war anymore. That ended a long time ago, they're our allies now," Dakota said.
"Hello Sammy," Kongou said, "It is very nice to meet you."
"You better not start anything Sammy, or the captain will have you shipped back to the states so fast that your sea bag will take two weeks to catch up," Dakota warned.
"Fine," Sammy harrumphed, "But if she starts anything..."
"Trust me, she's not going to start anything," Dakota whispered in Sammy's ear.
"She better not," Sammy proclaimed.
"Better not what?" Kongou asked.
"Tick off Sammy more than she already is now," Dakota explained, "Sammy why don't you go check in with the captain, see if he has anything for you to do."
"Okay," Sammy resigned. Dakota slowly let go of the little escort. Sammy balled up her fist and made a move like she was going to hit Kongou. When she saw Dakota flinch, she laughed, "Come on showboat, I hold my word. Didn't expect you to question that so easily." Sammy snapped of a faux salute, then ran off.
"She's nice," Kongou proclaimed once she was gone.
"Most of the time," Dakota acknowledged, "Helps that I'm one of the few people on base who can reign her in after she goes off on one of her tears."
"What was that?" Kongou asked.
"Nothing, come on let's hit the club," Dakota offered, "I'll buy the drinks."
Main Headquarters, June 22, 2018
Captain Smith had just about decided that joining that Navy was that stupidest thing he had ever done. After having to deal with the stack of classified: your-eyes-only paperwork for four hours, he was hastily informed by the comms shack that there was a new message for him. It informed him that in three hours time there would be a major conference call between the various ship girl commanders in the Pacific area of operations about upcoming offensives against the Abyssals. A subject that he had spent many hours thinking about.
That information had put him off finishing the paperwork for the rest of the day, deciding that a walk around his base was in order. He wandered aimlessly for a time before he found himself outside of the main parade ground watching as a group of girls did calisthenics under the watchful auspices of Fletcher. She was standing in front of a group of about ten girls – obviously destroyers judging by their age alone – yelling commands to them. Smith stood out of sight, watching as they did a series of push-ups and sit-ups. He could tell that some of the girls were new and still unfamiliar with their bodies. They had trouble with the long sets of exercise that Fletcher was putting them through.
Finally she finished with the calisthenics, and told the girls to get ready for a two mile run. Some of them groaned loudly upon hearing this, while others simply started to stretch and limber out their bodies. Smith watched as they took off down the road, Fletcher at the head. One of the girls was obviously having a hard time about it. She lagged to the rear of the pack and was making indications that she was about to drop out. Smith made the decision then and there. He quickly stripped off his NWU blouse revealing a blue t-shirt with the word NAVY printed across it in gold, and threw it to the side. Tossing his cover on top of it, he took of after the girls at a jog. He caught up with the one lagging behind and asked, "What seems to be the problem?" He looked her over for a second. Besides her brown hair and blue eyes, she had the prevailing Fletcher class features about her. She looked up surprised, she obviously didn't expect anyone to be there, much less her commanding officer.
"No..nothing sir," she wheezed.
"Everybody else seems to be doing just fine, so what's wrong," Smith pushed on.
"I'm just not used to two legs yet, I bet," she explained.
"Why is that?" Smith asked.
"Just came through two days ago," she clarified.
"Two days, and you've already been cleared for active duty?" Smith asked, unbelieving.
"I was under the impression that the ways were being greased for me," she explained.
"So what's your name?" Smith asked.
"Johnston, DD hull number 557," she replied. Smith looked up to see that they had fallen behind the rest of the running girls, so he increased the speed of his pace just a bit, hoping to get Johnston to speed up herself.
"You are quite a famous ship these days," Smith explained, "The story of Taffy 3 is legendary now."
"I don't know why," Johnston deflected, "I was just a destroyer who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I hadn't run into that fleet, the most I would have ever been remembered for would have been shelling Kwajalein and Guam."
"Still doesn't detract from what you did do," Smith pointed out, "Captain Evans was legendary in his time."
"Sir, I would appreciate it it you make all decisions about me in the future without taking that battle into consideration," Johnston said seriously, all traces of fatigue disappearing from her voice, "Everyone here seems to think that I'm this super ship with no fear, but that's just not the case."
"Aye aye Johnston, from now on, you are nothing more than a destroyer in my eyes," Smith acknowledged, "If you want special treatment from me, you're gonna have to earn it sailor, you get me?"
"Yes sir, thank you sir," she said with a small smile.
"Now come on Johnston," he said, "We have a mile to finish."
"Aye aye sir," she replied following after him as the ran on. They were the last ones to finish the mile. Fletcher began to make her way over to Johnston, apparently intending to chew her out for the lousy time, but she stopped when she caught sight of Smith. He shook his head, indicating that he wanted her to act like he wasn't there. She gave a slight nod, then proceeded to rail Johnston's for not being able to keep up.
She was about to assign additional physical training when Smith stepped in, "Fletcher would you think that Johnston would benefit from training with me?"
"Sir," Fletcher asked, not understanding Smith's offer.
"I don't know if you know this, but I do my calisthenics every morning at 0500," Smith explained, "Ending with a run around the island. I think that Johnston might benefit from a little, less strenuous training given her recent posting here."
"Sir, if you're offering, I have no problem with that," Fletcher replied, "How about you hero boat?"
"I'm fine with that," Johnston replied, ignoring Fletcher veiled barb.
"Good, then meet me on the parade field tomorrow at 0500," Smith said, clapping his hands together, "And don't be late."
"I won't," Johnston said with firm conviction, "I'll see you there." Smith nodded, exchanged reports with Fletcher, retrieved his uniform, and then made his way back to the HQ. When he opened the door to his office, he was surprised to see a girl standing on a chair trying to retrieve a book from the top of one of his shelves.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, "What are you doing in here." She whirled around at the sound of his challenge, loosing her balance in the process. She toppled off the chair and landed on the ground in a very undignified manner, then, to add insult to injury, the book that she was trying to retrieve fell on top of her head, knocking her glasses askew.
"Ow," was the only thing she said as Smith walked over to her.
"You okay there?" he asked, a note of genuine concern in his voice.
She took a moment to regain her composure before replying, "Y-yes sir, I'm alright. I-I was just in here to r-report in, and I saw the books. I just wanted to l-look, honest."
Smith helped the girl to her feet then asked, "And who might you be?"
"Mahan sir. D-destroyer number 364," she replied with a stutter.
"And do you have an interest in history Mahan?" Smith asked, putting the book that Mahan knocked off back on the shelf.
"The s-study of history lies at the f-foundation of all sound military con-conclusions and practice," she said, proudly. Smith recognized the quote immediately, and it surprised him a bit that she was familiar with it.
"You're familiar with the works of your namesake?" he asked. She didn't reply immediately, instead she went over to his desk and picked up a book that he didn't recognize. It was large, bound in red leather, and had a stylized anchor embossed on the cover in gold. She handed it to him and he flipped open the cover. He read the title on the flyleaf, The Influence of Seapower Upon History. "Where did you get this?" he asked after a second.
"I d-don't know sir. I had it w-with me when I came through," she explained. Smith nodded looking back to the book.
"What's this," he muttered. At the bottom of the page a handwritten signature was scrawled. He looked closely at it to see that it read, "A. T. Mahan." Smith whistled softly then passed the book back to Mahan, saying, "You keep a hold of that." He stood up and walked to the bookshelves lining the back wall of the office and said, "Now what are you interested in borrowing."
"Come on, now's our chance," announced the destroyer Peary as she lead her two companions through the passageways of the headquarters building, "The captain just went back into his office, if we move quickly, we can catch him before he starts working again."
"Yeah, or get thrown out on our asses," muttered Pope as she followed her sister. Walker had to grin internally at Peary's dedication to her quest of getting the captain alone. As they approached the captain's office, they were passed by another destroyer walking in the other direction, a stack of books clutched in her arms.
Walker felt a sense of deja vu when she looked at the other girl, and asked, "Do I know you?"
The other girl looked up at Walker and replied, "N-not that I know of. USS Mahan, DD-364."
"Ah, that explains it," Walker announced, "I knew a Mahan back in the day, but she was DD-102. USS Walker by the way, DD-163"
"Nic-nice to meet you," Mahan stuttered, "If y-you'll excuse me, I have some r-research to finish."
"She seems nice," Pope remarked idly as Mahan walked away.
"We can worry about the goldplater later," Peary replied, "Right now we need to get to the captain. Peary led them to Smith's door, then burst inside calling, "Captain we need to talk to you."
Walker and Pope walked in just in time to see Smith throw up his hands in exasperation and say, uncharacteristically, "Why do I even close the damn door."
"We-we're sorry sir, we'll go now," Pope stammered in fright.
"No, no that's alright. What can I do for you girls?" he asked.
"Sir, DesRon 29 here Peary, Pope, and Walker," Peary announced, "We found something that we think is worth some ice cream."
Smith's attitude changed when he heard that, "What did you find?"
"Sir, with respect, I would like to show you rather than telling you," Peary said.
"Where is this thing that you've found?" Smith asked.
"In one of the old hangars out by the seaplane ramp," Pope explained.
"Alright, lead the way," Smith said, standing up. Peary ran over and grabbed his hand, making sure that he didn't get distracted from where she was leading him. The quartet made their way to the hangar in question. "What's the important thing you've found," Smith asked after taking a look around the building. Walker looked around herself, and couldn't see a thing in the gloom.
"Sir, this building got passed over because there's nothing in it, at first glance," Peary began, "When we came in, we noticed something."
"And that was?" Smith asked.
"When we paced off the outside of the building, we found that it was about 200 to 225 feet long, and when we paced off this room, it was only 75 to 100 feet long," Peary reviled.
"There's an internal wall," Smith said realization dawning on his face.
"Yep, and when we managed to cut through it, this is what we found," Pope said, dragging Smith over to where a five foot square hole had been cut out of the wall. "Sorry about the size," Pope apologized, "We didn't expect to be coming back here."
"That's fine," Smith said as he ducked through the opening. When all four of them had made it through the hole, Smith said, "I can't see anything in here, it's too dark."
"Just a moment sir," Peary said, "I knew I left that thing here somewhere. Ah here it is." The beam of a flashlight snapped on and moved around the hangar. It came to rest on a large tarpaulin covered object at the center of the room.
"Is that what I think it is," Smith said, reverently. Peary's flashlight reorientated itself to clearly display the Consolidated PBY Catalina flying boat sitting in the middle of the room.
"We haven't had that much time to inspect it, but it seems to be intact," Peary confirmed. Smith walked over to the plane and ran a hand along its aluminum skin.
"It's a bit beat up, probably had a couple of hard landings," he muttered, "We're gonna have to drag it outside and let Smokescreen take a look at it."
"So, is that worth any ice cream?" Pope asked expectantly.
"I would say so," Smith replied, "Come on, let's go find the constructionmen and get that wall torn out."
"Yay," Pope said happily, then followed Smith back out the hole with her sisters. Two hours later with the help of a small army of enlisted constructionmen and a bulldozer, the wall was knocked out, and the PBY was dragged out onto the tarmac of Henderson field. Commander Smokescreen gave the plane a brief inspection, concluding that the hull displayed the tell tale signs of suffering several hard landings. It would have to be repaired. The engines were in good shape, but after siting unused for 70 years meant that the oil in the crankcase had decayed, and would have to be scrubbed out, meaning a complete engine overhaul. Which wouldn't be hard, it would just take time. But besides that, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the plane.
Smith was on his way to the comm shack to compose a message to Davies about the PBY and the possibility of repairing it to use as a patrol auxiliary, when he was intercepted by Enterprise. "Sir, you are needed in the war room, the conference is starting."
"Crap," Smith said, "I forgot that was happening. Lead on Enterprise." On the way there Smith realized that he was only wearing his Navy t-shirt, and his face was probably streaked with sweat and grease. He had been working right beside the enlisted men as they had worked to free the plane. I guess that can't be helped now, he thought as they walked. When he entered the war room, he saw that the main screen had already been lowered and an image was being projected onto it.
"Good for you to join us captain," Smith heard a voice coming through the room's speakers. He looked up to see that two faces were being projected onto the screen. Someone had helpfully put labeled under their pictures so that he knew that one of them was Captain Hisashi Muriname of the JMSDF, and the other was Admiral Susan Beaumont of the Royal Navy. Muriname was the overal commander of the Japanese ship girl program, and Beaumont was the commander of all Commonwealth forces.
"Did we catch you in the middle of something captain?" Beaumont asked, her clipped British accent apparent.
"Just some routine maintenance," Smith replied, he then pointed to Enterprise who had followed him into the room, "May I present my executive office, Lieutenant Enterprise."
Muriname nodded at Enterprise, then said, "A pleasure to meet you miss."
"Enterprise eh. Why am I not surprised that she is back, and in a position of power," Beaumont asked rhetorically.
"Commanders," Smith started, "We are here to discuss joint strategy moving forward. So what are your suggestions."
"Right now we have split up the western Pacific between us, with the Japanese taking the north, and my forces the south," Beaumont explained.
"With your forces in the central pacific, we are given an opportunity that we have been lacking for quite some time," Muriname said.
"And that would be?" Smith asked.
"Establishing a protected shipping route across the Pacific, much like what has been done in the Atlantic," Muriname concluded, "I am correct in concluding that the United States has regained much of industrial production capabilities in the last few years?"
"Last time I checked," Smith replied, "We kinda had to, with no imports coming in, it was the only way to keep everyone afloat."
"Myself and Muriname have discuss this quite a bit before you yanks showed up on the scene – quite unexpectedly too at that – and we have decided that by leapfrogging escort forces between our bases, we could provide a continuous escort for convoys of commercial shipping all the way from the west coast of your States to the waters of Australia or Japan," Beaumont announced, "With fleets of ship girls to escort the ships between our bases, where they would stay as transients until they could tag along behind a convoy moving in the opposite direction."
"Do you have any details worked out?" Smith asked, intrigued by the proposal, "I would have to forward anything you tell me onto my boss, Admiral Davies, then he could buck it up to the CNO."
"I have a report that my staff typed up some time ago that I could send you," Muriname said.
"What type of timetable are you thinking about?" Smith asked, moving on.
"Early next month," Muriname said, "Could you do that?"
"Most of my girls haven't seen combat service yet," Smith said, "But we could be ready by then if we had to."
"By the way captain," Muriname said, changing the subject, "How is Kongou doing?"
"Besides immediately tackling Miyata upon exiting the plane, and almost getting into a fight with one of my destroyers? She's just fine," Smith replied.
Muriname let out a loud laugh, "That's Kongou for you."
"She sound like some of my more... spirited cruisers," Beaumont mused.
"If we're done here," Smith broke in, "I have some training schedules to go work out. So please just send any relevant data to me, and I'll send it up the chain for approval."
"Very well," Muriname confirmed, "Good day captain." His face blinked out from the screen.
"Nice to meet you captain, I hope we can work together in the future," Beaumont said, then her face blinked off, leaving a black screen.
Smith stood in silence for a second before saying to Enterprise, "Get everybody rounded up, I'm going to brief the troops. Then start drawing up plans for a full fleet exercise. We're going to have a war game in a few days." Enterprise stood in shocked silence for several seconds before Smith asked, "Is there something wrong lieutenant?"
"Sir, is this really happening?" she asked.
"Yes, it is, and we can't stop it," Smith confirmed, "All we can do is be ready for it. Go round up the troops, I''ll be out in a minute." Enterprise came to attention, then left the room. Leaving Smith alone with his thoughts. I hope that I can be ready to send those girls into the kind of combat that nearly drove me insane, he thought sadly as he started to walk outside to give the most rousing pre-battle speech of his career.
Author's Note: Chapter 7 is done, finally. This one is a major story building chapter with allusions to a few major characters and plots points for down the road. And as to my choosing of Kongou as the liaison, it's simply because she is the only Japanese girl that we know for sure speaks English. I could make up BS reasons for a few others, but I couldn't resist the story potential of using her.
Expect a bit more time between chapter updates from now on, my laptop literally fried itself(there was blue smoke and everything). Luckily I save all files to my dropbox account so I didn't loose this chapter, but most of my writing was done on my laptop.
I'm thinking of putting up battle maps and character notes on my deviantart account, so lemme know if anyone is interested in those.
Review time, and goodness gracious there are a lot his time.
FANFIC HUNTER: Yes it's Kongou, and the way I see her is sort of like Jack O'Neill from Stargate, she's seen so much that she's decided to ignore it all by acting goofy.
hfdt123: Yeah I argued putting in Walker for a long time, but she is just so badass in the book, that I went with it. And when you said this I realized just how ambiguous that last line was, so I tweaked to lessen confusion.
J: Most of the ships that small were gunboats and torpedo boats, which I have decided to not bring in as characters, mostly because there were just to many of them used to make individual characters, but if you have a specific ships you would like me to look at, lemme know and I'll look it over.
Jedii: Well it was originally going to be all of the Kongou sisters, but then I realized why that would never happen, so it's just Kongou.
Colonel Amiruddin Arif: And along with this chapter we get the first girls from Taffy 3. I will be adding to their characters down the road, expect a major scene with Johnston next chapter.
Thorthemighty321: That scene was one of my favorites to write, had a lot of fun with that.
SulliMike23: Yep Langley the mother to the American carriers, there was no way not to bring her in.
potatoslayer4: Oh yes, then for her to meet the southern style of tea, oh that scene was just waiting to be written.
Guest(1): Now that we've established the commonwealth forces expect some British ships in the next few chapters. I try to actually minimize the number of combat scenes by making sure that they are full explained before they happen, so that helps space them out.
FrancisJames: I almost went to tears while I wrote that scene(but I'm the kind of guy that cries every time I hear Trace Adkins sing Arlington). My basis for the Yorktown sisters was that Yorktown was the brash fighter because she got hit at Coral sea, came back within days, and then refused to sink after Midway until being torpedoed by the Japanese sub. Hornet was emotional because she watched Yorktown go down at Midway, and Enterprise get hit at Santa cruz. I'm probably going to put up my character notes on my deviantart account, so you can read my justifications for everything.
c0dy88: Your right in that there are very few girls that would start something without provocation, but it will be fun to write future interactions.
Rapter267: Yeah, that was the only way I could justify bringing in Walker as a character was to write that scene, and of course it's Kongou.
Wolfman-053: Indirectly yes, It was more of I picked up that habit from watching too much NCIS, and I thought it would be perfect for her.
Luffy'stwin33: Now that we've set up the major strategy for the forces in the Pacific to use going forward, expect a lot more USN/JMSDF and USN/RN cooperation in the future.
Gem Warrior: I can understand your confusion based on the number of the Japanese girls who were sunk by US subs, but during the war the IJN subs really didn't sink that many allied ships. That had to do with doctrine more than anything, and will be studied in depth in a future chapter.
Guest(2): It was Kongou, and that line about liaisons is ambiguous and I need to fix it.
Guest(3): Glad to have you aboard for the wild ride, I hope you like it moving forward.