Pacific Ocean, June 28, 2018
"What do you mean we're lost?" asked Tang, trying to understand Wahoo's last comment.
"We're not lost," Wahoo replied, "It's just that when that ash can went off above my head, it damaged this thing." Wahoo held up the waterproof GPS receiver, "And cracked the waterproof housing. Water leaked in, and, well…"
"So you're telling me, that our only method of accurately navigating, is now nothing more than a piece of useless plastic?" Tang asked, a shocked tone in her voice, "We're dead. We are so dead."
"Oh calm down Miss Tang, we ain't dead yet," placated Harder, "I'm sure the skipper has a plan, ain't that right skipper?"
"As a matter of fact, I just might," Wahoo said, "Okay who has the map? I know we were issued a paper map, so whoever's got it, cough it up."
"Here skipper," replied Sealion as she approached Wahoo, a folded piece of paper in her hands.
"So are you planning to navigate two hundred miles with nothing more than a map, and a wrist compass? When we don't have any clue where we are, and can't trust the compass to be accurate enough to get us where we're going?" Tang said.
"Would you quit whining," Wahoo said, "I do know what I'm doing. I wrote down the last set of coordinates before the GPS went dead, so that means…" Wahoo traced a line on the map, and then drew a large X, "That we are right here." She placed her compass on the map, and oriented it to point north, "And that if we want to find Australia, we need to sail a course of 200 degrees."
"But that won't take us to where we need to go," Harder said.
"I know that, but Australia is huge, we head in a general direction and we'll find it eventually. Then we can follow the coast to where we need to be," Wahoo explained, "So let's get going, sooner we get there, sooner we can get out of this rigging."
NS Midway Island
Enterprise didn't think that it was possible for her to be more tired than she was now. She had spent the last ten plus hours on her feet following one of the inspection teams around the base. Serving in her capacity as the executive officer to help the team out in any way she could. She had been dragged to every corner of the base, visiting areas she had never seen before. In all that time, she had been able to get off her feet exactly twice, so she was beyond tired.
Usually she would head to the wardroom to get a cup of coffee whenever she felt this bad, but she felt that she rated something a little stronger tonight. Enterprise really wasn't one to drink on a regular basis, but she did understand the value of a good, stiff drink every now and then. The decision was fairly easy to make when she realized that the club was on her path back to the carrier barracks.
She saw several familiar faces when she entered the small building, most of them senior officers and Non-coms who had just finished escorting the various inspection teams. What she didn't expect to hear was, "Hey sis, come on over here." Enterprise looked over to see Yorktown sitting on a stool at the bar. Enterprise walked over to her, and didn't really sit down in the stool, he collapsed into it with a grunt. "What happened to you?" Yorktown asked, "You look like you just got run over by a Wildcat."
Enterprise grunted, "Just a second," and waved the rating behind the bar over. The man walked up and quirked an eyebrow, silently asking Enterprise what she wanted. "One of those please," she replied, pointing to the bottle sitting on the bar in front of Yorktown. He nodded and walked away.
"It must have been a bad day for you," Yorktown observed, "I don't think I've ever seen you drinking."
"I just got done escorting a junior grade lieutenant around the base, while he inspected everything," Enterprise replied, carefully spacing out each word, "And the best part? This particular lieutenant couldn't find his ass with two hands and a roadmap."
Yorktown let out a low whistle, "You're swearing, he must have been bad."
"Just some Annapolis ring knocker out on his first assignment away from the Pentagon," Enterprise began, "Who thought he knew absolutely everything about how a base was supposed to be run."
"Weren't those guys supposed to be inpectin the base? Not trying to tell us how to do our jobs?" Yorktown asked. Enterprise opened her mouth to respond, when the bartender slid an open bottle of beer down the bar. She caught it in one hand, and thanked the bartender with a nod.
"Where was I?" Enterprise asked after taking a long pull from the bottle.
"Ring knocker, bad lieutenant," Yorktown supplied.
"Right, well it wasn't that he was bad, per se, just, green," Enterprise said, "We got lost three times, and I had to lead the inspection team back all three."
"Sounds like a jay gee alright," Yorktown said chuckling, "That don't seem that bad, what was your real problem?"
Enterprise shot her sister a look, and said, "Why can you see right through me?" Yorktown shrugged, and Enterprise replied, "My biggest problem today was all the goddamed hero worship."
"Wait, you're tellin me, you don't like being called out everywhere you go?" Yorktown said, sarcastically.
Enterprise shoved her sister by the shoulder, and said, "No, I don't. It's getting to the point that as soon as anyone hears who I am, their first response is, 'The Enterprise? The legendary ship that during the war sunk half the Japanese fleet and didn't take a scratch of damage?'."
"So what's this got to do with the inspector lieutenant?" Yorktown asked, taking a swig from her beer.
"He constantly asked me questions, questions about what it was like to be a ship, what the old war was like, and what it was like to be under the command of "Bull" Halsey," Enterprise said, "Sometimes I think about going under an assumed name, so people will stop asking me the same questions over and over."
"Okay that's the debit half, now what's the credit?" Yorktown asked suddenly.
"Excuse me?" Enterprise said, confused.
"There has to be something good about this new life, or else you would have changed your name and moved away months ago," Yorktown stated.
Enterprise sat silent for several seconds, contemplating the question, then replied, "I think the best part about being here and now, is getting to see you."
"Why I'm flattered," Yorktown replied.
"No, not you personally, I mean get to see my sisters again," Enterprise said, "After you went down at Midway and we lost Hornet at Santa Cruz, I was all alone for a long time. Don't get me wrong, talking with the cruisers and destroyers is nice, but I wished that I could see my sisters again, to apologize for not being able to do more."
Yorktown placed a hand on Enterprise's shoulder, then said, "Don't give me that BS, you did the best that you could. Sometimes we lose battles, sometimes good ships are lost. That's just the nature of war."
"I know, but still," Enterprise said, dejectedly, "It still hurts."
"I understand," Yorktown said, tone growing somber, "If there is one ship that I wish that I could see again, it's Lexington." Enterprise looked up at Yorktown to see tears forming in her eyes, "She was just as much a mother to us as Langley was, and I couldn't save her." Yorktown brought her fist down on the bar.
"And now, my name is more remembered than yours," Enterprise said, "That's why I hate the hero worship. I'm remembered for surviving, but all those who didn't, faded away into the mists of time. You know they gave your names to new ships, right?"
"A pair of Essex class carriers, state of the frikken art," Yorktown replied, mood brightening a bit, "Well, at the time at least. They're still around aren't they, as museum ships? You think we'll ever see them?"
"You know I asked Commander Miyata about that," Enterprise said, "Museum ships coming back I mean. He said that if they really wanted to they could come back, but to do so, the spirit would have to completely sever itself from the ship."
"I wonder if I could do that, leave my old hull behind on some dock somewhere to come back like this," Yorktown muttered, "Helluva choice there."
Enterprise lifted her bottle, "To old friends, and new acquaintances, may we see them soon." Yorktown mimicked the toast.
"As the old saying goes, to wives and sweethearts, may they never meet," Yorktown said with a wry smile, "Or in our case, husbands and sweethearts."
"Here here," Enterprise said, then tapped her beer to Yorktown's. Enterprise suddenly remembered something. She reached into her breast pocket and began to fish for something. Smiling with triumph, she pulled something out. "Here," she said, and flipped a coin up in the air, "The captain gave me a load of these when I first came back. No idea where he got them from, but here." She caught the coin then passed it to Yorktown. It was a simple brass challenge coin, with the legend USS Enterprise CVN-65 written above a picture of that ship.
"Huh, so you got renamed as well?" Yorktown asked, flipping the coin over in her hand.
"Apparently, that ship was the very first nuclear powered aircraft carrier in the world. Nicholas and O'Bannon told me that they escorted her for a time before they were decommissioned," Enterprise said, "That ship was decommissioned about ten years ago, but they built another one."
"They ever build another Yorktown after the Essex class one?" Yorktown asked.
"They did, but," Enterprise braced herself for the next bit, "They changed the naming conventions after the war, it was a cruiser."
"What? A cruiser?" Yorktown, "There is no justice in this world is there, you get a pair of aircraft carriers, and I get a cruiser?"
Enterprise shook her head laughing, "Better than most of the cruisers and battleships, they got submarines named after them."
"I guess a cruiser is better than a submarine, which reminds me," Yorktown said, "If I ever make it Japan, remind me to slug that sub that sunk me."
"As long as that's as far as it goes," Enterprise replied.
"Of course," Yorktown said, with an air of mock sincerity. Enterprise simply sat there laughing for several minutes, she had really needed this.
Captain Smith was starting to believe that he had made a much bigger deal out of this inspection than it actually was. With his surface warfare experience, he was used to dealing with shipboard inspections. A tense time in which every inch of a ship would be searched for discrepancies. When problems were found during a shipboard inspection, it meant extra time spent at the pier rectifying them, so it was a major deal to be prepared for the inspection. Smith was learning now that the problems found during the inspection of a shore facility, were minor and easily correctable. He had been following Captain Ryan around the base for several hours now, helping her whenever he could.
He had been rather surprised to learn just how far she had been read into his project. She explained that her office had been contacted by an admiral on CINCPAC's staff two days ago. He had detailed to her the nature of the Fleet Auxiliary Program, and had arranged for a courier to bring around a dossier on the subject. SO Captain Ryan had a fairly thorough knowledge on the subject.
Captain Smith had seen more of his base in the last few hours, than he had seen over the last two months. Captain Ryan had dragged him through inspections of the galleys, the mess hall, the base hospital, and the gas turbine generators. They had eventually come full circle, and were now inspecting the main headquarters.
The building had changed greatly from when Smith had first taken command of the base. It was still the same two-story, white cinderblock building, but the interior had been updated and changed significantly. Located on the top floor were offices for all of the senior staff, nothing interesting really, and nothing that needed to be inspected. However, the bottom floor held several areas that were due for inspection.
They were stopped outside one of the rooms now, behind a large, metal door with a bright red sign bearing the legend, "War Room Authorized Personnel Only."
"War Room?" Captain Ryan said questioningly.
"Bit of an informal designation," Smith explained, "This is our strategic planning, briefing, and intelligence room."
"Good choice of names," Ryan said, nodding, "Can we go in?"
"Let me get the door unlocked first," Smith said, digging around his pockets for his key ring, "This is one the rooms where we keep top secret documents, so the door is pretty hefty."
"I'm glad you brought that up, captain," Ryan announced, "What are your policies on top secret material?"
Smith answered the question as he continued to dig for his keys, "Right now the only people on base with the proper clearance are myself, Commander Walker the aviation officer, and Master Chief Boggs. We've been trying to get Enterprise clearance, but she doesn't really have a background to check, so that's stuck in red tape. And the communication and crypto staff." Smith finally extracted the right key, and unlocked the door. He led Captain Ryan around the room, explaining various points as they went. She pointed to a huge map of the Pacific Ocean covering one entire wall of the room.
"Still use the old pin and string method I see," she said pointing to a line drawn on the map with a half dozen thumbtacks and piece of string.
"We also have a computerized plot, but sometimes the old standbys are the best option," Smith explained.
"May I ask what that is?"
"Sorry captain," Smith said, his smile fading, "That falls under OPSEC." He was speaking of operational security, the ground rules for classifying information.
"And I don't have the need to know, right," Ryan said, "Just thought I'd ask. Well, everything seems to be in order around here. Let's move on." Smith nodded then followed Ryan out of the room, locking the door behind them.
"Comms room is just down the hall," he said, "Might as well stop there next." The door to the communications room was not quite as imposing as the door to the War Room.
Originally the base communications room had been located in a temporary Quonset hut over by the main satellite relay dishes, but after receiving some necessary parts, it had been moved to the main headquarters. It was now located behind a simple wooden door that could be mistaken to contain anything if it wasn't for the plastic sign that read, "Communications."
Smith wrapped on it twice with his knuckles, receiving a curt, "Come," from inside. The comms shack operated 24/7, so it had been a good bet that there would be someone inside. Smith walked in to see a young woman wearing the insignia of an Information Technician 3rd sitting behind a desk. She tried to stand up the moment she recognized just who had come into the room, but Smith waved her back down.
"As you were," he said out of reflex, "Captain Ryan here just wants to take a look at this shop." The tech nodded and went back to watching her computer monitor. While the comms shack did deal with communications, it wasn't in the traditional sense. The room wasn't filled with rows of giant transceivers that could broadcast signals across the globe. Instead it contained banks of computers, all tied into the satellite relay. Ryan walked through each stack of computers, checking to see if there were any major errors visible. She nodded with approval when she saw a pair of towers separated from the rest with bright red, "Top Secret," labels plastered over them. Smith detached himself from Ryan's inspection and walked over to the tech.
"Anything new?" he asked.
"Nothing so far, sir," she replied, instinctively clicking through the computer for incoming traffic.
Captain Ryan walked back over to him, "Everything is in order here, captain, let's move on." Smith nodded, and was about to leave the room, when a printer along the back wall whirred to life.
"New traffic from the Halsey, sir," the tech explained. Smith nodded then walked over to the printer.
"Why don't you go ahead, captain," Smith said as he ripped the sheet of paper out of the printer, "I've been waiting for this report for a while, and it's going to take some time to reply to."
"That would be fine," Ryan replied, "I'll see you later Captain Smith," Ryan replied, then left the room. Smith looked down at the sheet. It was indeed a report from the Halsey detailing a skirmish against the Abyssals. One girl sustained minor damaged, fifteen Abyssals killed was what Smith read.
Then at the bottom of the page the phrase, "We have met the enemy, and they are ours," caught Smith's eye. He grinned at that, it could only mean one thing, the Halsey had safely reached its destination in Japan, and Smith needed every bit of good news he could get these days.
Yokosuka Naval District
It was a beautiful day in Yokosuka Harbor today. The weather was perfect and there was not a cloud in sight. For the girls of the Yokosuka Naval District, today was a day to relax, get out in the sun, and just have some fun. Abyssal attacks had been on the decline around the Japanese home islands, and because of this, fewer Japanese kanmusu needed to be deployed on missions. Destroyer Fubuki had decided to spend her new found free time doing something productive, jogging.
With Akagi gone on a mission, Kongou mysteriously reassigned, and the rest of her friends lazing about or deployed, jogging was really all she could do. Well she could be training, but due to a recent incident, Admiral Muriname had declared that the training ranges were off limits without the supervision of a JMSDF officer, and they were all over at the main base for some reason or another. Fubuki was just about to make another loop around the base, when she caught sight of two girls standing at the edge of the water. They were gesturing and pointing to something out in the bay. Fubuki jogged up next to them, and saw that it was half of DesDiv 6, destroyers Ikazuchi and Inazuma.
"What's going on?" Fubuki asked, breaking into their animated conversation.
"There's a ship pulling into our docks," replied Ikazuchi.
"So, what's special about that?" Fubuki asked. Attached to the Naval District was a set of standard piers with space for regular vessels to dock. The only ships that docked there on a regular basis was the guided missile destroyer Kirishima, which served as sort of a floating command post for the kanmusu. Ikazuchi pointed to a ship entering the bay, and Fubuki could tell immediately that it was headed for the Naval District berths, if it was headed to the commercial piers or the American navy base, it would have been much further south.
"Does that ship look strange to you?" asked Inazuma. Fubuki peered closely at the mystery ship. To her, it looked exactly like a Kongou or Atago class destroyer, both of which frequented the naval District.
"It just looks like an AEGIS destroyer to me," Fubuki admitted a few second later.
"Look at the bridge, it seems off, shorter maybe," Ikazuchi pointed out, "And the gun is the wrong shape. I think it's an American ship."
"Can't be American," Fubuki countered, "They haven't sent a ship out from their base since the war started, and they couldn't have crossed the Pacific with a single ship."
"But that looks like one of the ships over at the American base, what do they call it? Arleigh Burke?" Ikazuchi pointed out.
"But we don't know if it is," Inazuma added, "We can't make out the flag." Fubuki nodded, then looked at the top of the ship's mast, where the flag usually streamed. If the ship was flying a flag, it was obscured by the bulk of the superstructure. Fubuki didn't have long to ponder this though because as she watched an absolutely enormous American flag being hauled up the mast.
"See I told you, it's American," Ikazuchi said triumphantly.
"But what is it doing here?" Inazuma asked. Fubuki had seen many ships pull into port during her time. As one of the first ships to return as a girl, she had come back just in time to witness the early stages of the Abyssal war. The American 7th Fleet stationed in Yokosuka, had sold itself dearly to protect the Japanese people. Doggedly refusing to back down, even when it was clear that they were outnumbered, outgunned, and outmatched. The American ships would sally forth to meet the Abyssals, and when they limped back into port, they were badly damaged and barely afloat. They would stay in port just long enough to patch major damage, and offload the dead and wounded, before returned to the fight. Most of the time, the ships would leave the port, and never return.
This ship was different. It was not slowly limping into port, it was sailing proudly. The sight reminded Fubuki of the early days of the old war, when ships would return home after successfully completing a mission. This ship displayed a level of pride that she had not seen from the Americans in a long time, and it intrigued Fubuki. "Hey look," called Ikazuchi, "There's another flag. Just under the big one." Fubuki looked to where the smaller destroyer was pointing, and, sure enough, a second flag had been hoisted.
"It looks like a solid blue field," Fubuki muttered as she squinted, trying to discern details about the new flag, "What do you suppose it means?"
"I don't know, but we'll know soon, the ship is getting closer," Inazuma pointed out. As the ship moved closer to where the girls were standing, Fubuki was just barely able to make out something written on the flag in white. It was hard to read at first, but as the ship got even closer, she recognized it as English. Fubuki had a pretty good understanding of English, it was taught to all of the ship girls so they could work with their British counterparts to the south. Some did better than others with the different language, but foreign languages were something of a hobby for Fubuki, she spoke three well enough to be understood most of the time.
Still, it took her a moment to translate the text, then she read, "Don't give up the ship. What do you think it means?"
"It's a reference," Fubuki wheeled about to see that Nagato was standing behind her, also watching at the approaching Americans. She pointed to the ship and explained, "It's a reference to an American admiral, Oliver Hazard Perry. He led a fleet of American ships against the British during their War of 1812. From his flagship he flew a banner with those same words, and, upon emerging from the battle victorious, the motto was taken up by the American Navy. The original flag still hangs in their Naval Academy, if I remember correctly."
"So what ship is that?" asked Ikazuchi, curious.
"We just received word of their arrival a short time ago," Nagato replied, "That is the American destroyer USS Halsey." The name instantly sparked recognition in Fubuki's eyes.
"Halsey, as in Admiral Halsey?" she asked.
"The same," Nagato replied tersely.
"What's it doing here?" asked Inazuma, changing the subject.
"If I understand the message we received from the Americans correctly, it is here to host a cultural exchange program. Several of their people will being staying on our base for a few days, and we will discuss the nature of the kanmusu with them," Nagato explained.
"Do you think this has anything to do with American kanmusu?" Fubuki asked excitedly.
"Possibly, but we cannot know for certain just yet," Nagato replied. Fubuki nodded understanding. The subject of American kanmusu had been a heated topic among the girls of the Yokosuka Naval District. With more and more girls arriving each day, and with arrival of several foreign kanmusu, it would only be a matter of time before the Americans started to bring girls of their own into the picture. The debate around the base had been about whether the Japanese girls wanted to meet their former enemies. Surprisingly, most of them were willing, even eager, to meet the American girls. Only a handful showed resentment over the old war.
Fubuki had a very strong opinion with regards to this issue. She, like so many of her sisters, had been sunk by American guns, but that had been a long time ago, and she had watched as the 7th Fleet continuously tried to protect the Japanese people. The American Navy had willingly sold their ships and crews to protect the lives and interests of the Japanese. A people who had, just 70 years prior, tried to wipe them off the face of the map. It was a gripping sight for Fubuki and for many of the other kanmusu. It had completely changed Fubuki's opinion of the American Navy. She wished that the Americans would start calling back girls of their own, so that she could do as much to help them, as they had done to help the Japanese.
"Well I hope it's the American kanmusu," Fubuki announced.
"It would be nice to meet some new faces," agreed Inazuma.
Nagato stood in silence, pondering the words of the destroyers, before replying, "Only time will tell."
USS Halsey, Hangar Deck
"Whaddya mean we have to spend a week with the Japanese?" asked an indignant O'Bannon, "Last time I got anywhere near the Japs, I was almost sunk. It'll be nothing but trouble, I'm warning you."
"Oh come off it, we both sailed into Tokyo bay with Missouri and we stationed out of Japan for the entirety of the Korean War," Nicholas pointed out.
"I still don't like it," O'Bannon muttered.
"Are you done yet?" asked South Dakota, mildly tolerantly.
"Yes," O'Bannon harrumphed and sat down.
"Now that that's out in the open," Dakota began, "Let me clarify, we are going to spend a week on the Japanese base. That decision has been made above my paygrade, and is not open for discussion."
"Why?" Nicholas asked.
"Show the flag," Salt Lake replied before Dakota could, "Show the Japanese that the US Navy is still a powerful force in this part of the word. Why do you think they sent this ship?"
"Excuse me?" Dakota said, confused. Salt Lake stood up from the stack of crates she had been leaning on, and began to pace across the hangar.
"This ship used to be based in Pearl, and that is a fact that the Japanese know for certain," Salt Lake said, "So here's the million dollar question: what does it say when we pull into Yokosuka in a ship that, until recently, was in Pearl Harbor?"
"That we are capable of protecting a ship as it crosses the Pacific," Nicholas answered suddenly, the pieces falling into place.
"Correct, someone give the ensign a prize," Salt Lake replied sarcastically.
"Alright, cut the chatter," Dakota said, "Yes, that was is a reason for our visit, but the main reason is that the Japanese know a helluva lot more about ship girls than we do. We're going to try to learn as much as possible from them."
"What about the language barrier?" asked Johnston, "I don't speak any Japanese, and of those here, Kongou is the only one who does."
Kongou replied quickly, "Most of the girls on my base speak at least a little English, it was necessary to teach them the language when your Navy was helping us out so much in the beginning."
"Kongou's right, the Japanese people treat English as a technical language, all of their technical manuals are written in English," Dakota clarified.
"So what are we supposed to do, walk down the gangplank and proclaim that we are the US Navy here to learn?" asked Atlanta in a mildly sarcastic tone.
"No, no no no, that would be a very bad idea," Kongou said, "There are a few of my friends who do not see the Americans in the best of lights. They're stuck in the past, and can't forgive you for the old war." Dakota raised a hand, indicating that she wanted complete silence.
Once everyone in the room was listening, she said, "When we tie up, myself and Kongou will go to meet with the base commander, one Captain…"
"Admiral," Kongou interrupted.
"Captain," Dakota stressed, "Muriname. He will then tell us the best way to go about explaining our identity to the ship girls of his base. Until then, everyone is to stay on this ship, is that clear?"
The rest of the room's occupants chorused, "Aye ma'am."
"And remember, you won't just be representing the US Navy on that base, you will be representing the entirety of the American people," Dakota said in no uncertain terms, "We'll be arriving soon, head back to your watch stations, and wait for my command, and Kongou, do I have to remind you of the secrecy of where you've bene for the last few weeks. I don't want you spilling the beans before we're ready."
Kongou stuck out her lip in a pout, "Of course, I know. I won't tell anyone that you're the battleship South Dakota."
"Good," Dakota replied, "Let's go head up topside, we should be pulling in any minute now."
The news of the American destroyer pulling into the Naval District docks had spread like wildfire. A good majority of the base's kanmusu had gathered in the area near where the ship had tied up. They were all waiting expectantly to see what would happen. The area near the end of the pier was now packed with girls. Admiral Muriname somehow managed to push his way through the throng, and stood between it and the American ship. "Okay, that's enough," he shouted, causing the crowd to quickly disperse. Fubuki decided to take her chances, and didn't leave with the rest of the girls. Muriname looked at her for a few seconds, obviously thinking about what to do. He eventually shrugged, and turned to look at the ship. "It's clear now, you can come on," he called, in English. Two seconds later he was knocked over as none other than Kongou ran down the gangplank.
'What is Kongou doing on an American ship,' Fubuki wondered briefly.
A new voice called, also in English, "Kongou, can you please refrain from bowling over ever senior officer you meet?" The voice came from another woman making her way down the gangplank. She was about twenty and was wearing that blue and gray camouflage that the Americans loved so much, Fubuki instantly guessed that she was a member of the American Navy. Muriname only grunted as he shoved off the energetic battleship.
"Your sisters are in the mess hall, Kongou," Muriname said as he pushed himself to his feet.
"See you later admiral," she said, then bounded off towards the mess. The second woman walked up to Muriname, and raised her hand in salute. It was the straight-armed American version of a salute, and it confirmed Fubuki's assessment that this woman was from the American Navy.
"Captain Muriname?" she said, questioningly. This surprised Fubuki, she knew Sato Muriname's real rank in the JMSDF, but everyone just simply called him admiral due to his role.
Muriname returned the salute, "Lieutenant Dakota I presume?"
"Yes, sir," the woman, named Dakota, replied.
"My office is this way lieutenant, we can discuss things in private there," Muriname said. Lieutenant Dakota nodded, then followed Admiral Muriname off towards the District headquarters, leaving a surprised Fubuki standing on the dock. A dozen questions ran through Fubuki's mind. Who was that woman? Why was she here? Was she a kanmusu, and if so, which one? She knew that there had been an American ship named South Dakota during the war, Kirishima talked about her facing off with the American battleship during the Solomon campaign. Was this unassuming looking American naval officer, the battleship South Dakota? Fubuki decided to head back to her room and try to work out her confusion someplace else.
Pacific Ocean, off the coast of Australia
They had done it again. The submarine force had run into another Abyssals task force, but this time it was made up of several combat vessels. Wahoo had decided that attacking the formation would be tantamount to suicide, so she had ordered silent running, but they had been spotted anyway. What followed was the single worst depth charging that Wahoo had ever encountered. IT had continued for at least an hour, and when it had finally ended, Wahoo had ordered the girls to stay down for an extra hour, just to be sure.
Then, inexplicably, it had resumed about ten minutes ago. Wahoo was floating at one hundred feet under the surface listening as the deadly bombs detonated above her head. The pounding was getting closer and closer as the attacking destroyers closed in for the kill. Then she heard a different sound, one that she didn't recognize. A multitude of splashes all in rapid succession, like someone throwing a handful of gravel into a pond. Her eyes went wide when she realized what had made the noise. There was only one anti-submarine weapon that she knew of that fired many rounds into the water, and there was no way that the Abyssals could be using one of those.
She quickly scrawled a message on her slate, and began to swim for the surface. Tang, thinking that her commander had finally lost it, grabbed Wahoo's led and tried to pull her back down. Wahoo held up the slate and showed Tang the message. It consisted of one word, "Hedgehog." Tang understood the message, and instantly let go of Wahoo. A few moments later, Wahoo's head broached the surface. She immediately began to transmit from her radio, "All forces in this vicinity, this is the United States submarine Wahoo operating with a six boat flotilla in this area. I say again I am operating a six submarine flotilla in this area."
A few seconds later Wahoo received the reply she had been hoping for, "Bloody hell Wahoo, you're more than two hundred kilometers off course."
"Station calling, station calling, my navigation hardware was disabled during the transit, be advised that we are operating by dead reckoning only," Wahoo replied.
"All units cease fire," the other voice said after a moment, "American submarine, this is the British destroyer Electra operating a four destroyer squadron two miles to your north. Bring your girls up and we'll lead you yanks back to base."
"Acknowledged, give me ten minutes to comply," Wahoo said, then dove back underwater. It took her almost the entire ten minutes to locate and drag each of her girls to the surface. When they got there, Wahoo saw three girls wearing what she assumed were Royal Navy enlisted blouses and slacks.
Wahoo spoke first, "Do you people make it a habit to shoot at everything that crosses your path?"
One of them approached her and said, "I'm Electra, sorry about the confusion, Wahoo, but you were supposed to be a more than a hundred kilometers south of here. We picked up something on ASDIC, and assumed that it had to be Abyssal."
"Well, you might want to check the contact next time before you start shooting," Wahoo relied testily.
"I apologize, but we learned fast that not shooting at every potential Abyssal, was a very good way to end up with a torpedo in your keel," Electra replied.
"You said you can escort us to Sydney?" Wahoo asked.
"Of course, and you look as if you need the rest," Electra replied, "Follow me." She turned about and sailed off in a different direction. The other American girls shot Wahoo a questioning look, which she answered with a shrug. Wahoo began to follow the retreating Brits, the rest of her girls in tow.
And that took forever to write, damn you writers block. As a blanket advisory, I will be putting a freeze on new character introductions for the next few chapters as I try to sort out all of the dangling plot threads I keep neglecting because of the ridiculously large cast of this story.
Anyway, review time:
FANFIC HUNTER: Yeah that was a pretty blatant reference, wasn't it.
Colonel Amiruddin Arif: Sort of is different the Navy way. Navy inspection teams are checking for combat readiness, at least shipboard teams are. For a shore instillation all the inspectors are checking for is to make sure that everything is in its proper place with its proper label.
Thorthemighty321: Well I try to sneak jokes in whenever I can.
NVA Commander Taney-Chan: I did look at Taney as a character, and I do agree that she would make a good one, but I'm freezing new character introductions for a few chapters as I try to sort out the ones I already have.
SulliMike23: Half the problems in this story come from dealing bureaucracy, and there will be more to the whole public relations angle than I've let on.
Fanatic-Fanatica: I agree, didn't like the way it played out myself, reason I rewrote it.
Guest: Reminds me of the stories of "Torpedo juice" where sailors would crack open the early torpedoes that used pure alcohol as fuel. There will be a lot of interaction between the USN girls and the Royal Navy girls so some of that will come up.
FrancisJames: Well the way I see the girls, they're just normal humans, so why can't they use standard gear? And the Japanese probably wouldn't due to budget, or not enough trained personnel.
Andrey-159: That whole disclosure scene was pretty ambiguous, so I tried to re-write it.
hfdt123: As I mentioned, way way way to many plot threads. Fortunanley I do have a resolution for Walker's gang and the PBY, I just have to stick it in.
tarboxdouglas: That was a bit more of behind the scenes political machinations, because if I wrote all of that stuff down, it would make the story even more convoluted and complicated.
Wolfman-053: That was actually completely unintentional, I just picked a name at random for that one.
rmanning3str: The way that I think about it, is that for a ship to have a spirit, they had to be an active vessel with a crew. So, unfortunately, no paper ships or aborted projects
Starfox5: Saving the introductions for next chapter, which will be pretty much completely full of intros and foreign relations.