"Hello and welcome to the first installment of…"

"Port Mysteries!" Bristol chirped.

"They shouldn't be mysteries when we're done with them, you know," Aoba replied.

"Investigation Logs."

"Does a name matter? We're the only radio program."

"There's music!"

"Why don't we solve the mystery of why Comet keeps on trying?"

"That's mean, Aoba! Comet has been getting really good recently!"

"She's good. But she's not Lexington."

"What about the mystery of who Lexington is doing all those private shows for?"

"I don't think that's a mystery, Bristol."

"Wait, the Commander?"

"Why are you so shocked?"

"But… I thought he was, you know… listening to Shoukaku's flute recitals?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"Did some private investigating, is all."

"Huh." There was a note of respect in Aoba's voice. "I had hoped this would go on longer, but I need to see this catfight. Alright folks, same time… screw it, same time tomorrow. We don't have a schedule."

"Aoba-" Bristol whined.

"Hello, and welcome back to our newest installment of Port Mysteries. Despite damage to the broadcast tower after Coral Sea Two: Carrier Boogaloo, we will continue our reporting!"

"Good news: the Commander is still alive!" Bristol chirped. "He just has a… lightened administrative workload? That's a funny euphemism."

"Three cases of Oxy-cola for anyone willing to tell me if Lexington and Shoukaku are still dating him." Aoba offered.

"Only three?"

"Kinugasa says I'm not allowed to spend more than a fifth of my pay chasing leads." Aoba sighed.

Bristol giggled.

"You wanna say something, twerp?"

"Twerp? You're using my recording equipment, you know!"

Aoba cleared her throat. "So, other news: the theology section of the library- we had that?- is closed after Ulrich and Richelieu tried to kill each other."

"Maybe it was just involuntary baptism."

"You know, some people would probably sign up to get drowned by Ulrich."

"That's a mystery I don't wanna understand…" Bristol mumbled.

"Right. Let's get back to that. You have the list, Bristol?"

"Right! Here it is!"

"...Bristol, this just says 'Marco Polo is the antichrist' fifty times."

"It's more true every time."

"Right."

"Jack Chick was right about the Vatican, you know-"

"Okay, we're using my mysteries then. First up: does Akagi hide stuff in the fluff?"

Bristol snorted. "What sort of stuff?"

"Photos of the Commander, knives, that sort of thing."

"Like, strapped to the tail itself?" Bristol asked. "I mean you've got a tail like hers, can you hide stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. I wondered where you kept all those pens."

"Pretty neat, right? I figure she's got to be doing it."

"Couldn't you hide a recorder in there?" Bristol mused.

"Not a bad idea," Aoba said. "But that doesn't seem very Akagi now does it?"

"It will forever remain a mystery~"

"Doesn't sound that hard, really. I figure she probably has a condom or two in there."

"Aoba!"

"What?"

"You can't just say that!"

"I mean I just did. But maybe she'd go for the baby trap?"

"Aoba I don't wanna get bombed again-"

"Alright, next topic, because someone is apparently afraid of speaking truth to power."

"She'll kill you and they'll never find the body Aoba-"

"That's a good segue, actually. Mystery two: where the hell is Long Island?"

"Gaming."

"No one games for two months, Bristol."

"She would. I already solved this mystery- she has this really clever trick to get around the girls in logistics…"

"Has? Not had?"

Silence on Bristol's end.

"Ohoho, I see. That's how it is."

Before Bristol could form a response, a phone started ringing, and Bristol rushed to pick it up.

"Hello, caller number one. Is there some mystery you'd like us to solve?"

Bristol continued. "No, I wouldn't say that. Aoba said that."

"Bristol."

"Right! Aoba, she's giving you time to put your affairs in order!"

"Couldn't even bother to make it a murder mystery, the drama queen…"

"Hiya! It's Bristol, here with another episode of Mysteries of the Sapphire Port!"

"That's a dumb name."

"No naming privileges for the girl who got us bombed two times in as many shows!"

"I think the first was kind of your fault."

"If it was anyone's fault, it was the Commander's!"

"Sacred cow, Bristol."

"Right. So, tonight we have something very interesting: listener submissions! We didn't even ask, and you delivered! Number one: META."

"That's it?"

"That's the question."

"Yeah." Aoba sighed. "What is META?"

"Alternate universe shipgirls from further along in the timeline." Bristol answered immediately.

"Sounds about right. I mean, I haven't thought about it…"

"Haven't thought about it?" Bristol squawked. "I've got whole files on them! I've sorted them into groups, actually. Look at this!"

"Huh. That's actually… kind of interesting. But I'll remind you that we are running a radio show?"

"Right, so I've sorted most META sightings into a category I like to call 'Ashen Might'..."

"Ashen Might?"

"What?"

"I Might die of an embarrassment with a name like that. Wait… what are the other ones?

"Flickering Light, Cinders of Hope…"

"Nope."

"What do you mean, nope?"

"What I mean is question two: Why won't the Commander date me?" Aoba was silent for a moment. "Why is this guy such a catch, again? That's the real mystery."

"He looks pretty good in uniform, you know."

"Is no one immune?" Aoba groused. "Looking good in uniform is a step below this harem protagonist crap going on. I've asked girls what they thought about his two-timing. You know what they said? 'Better odds for me, then.' Insanity."

"Do you know he owns several engagement rings?"

"...No. I did not know that, Bristol. How did you…?"

"Not important! Let's get back to it, question three: what the- ahem, naughty language- do they feed those carriers? How the- sorry, again!- do those… overinflated balloons stay up?" Bristol paused for a second. "I mean, she's actually making a good point there at the end…"

Aoba grabbed the mic. "Alright folks see you tomorrow, we seem to be going through a tunnel, we're breaking up, see you-!"

Omake

"What I mean is question two: why won't the Commander date me?" Aoba was silent for a moment. "I asked him, actually. It's because he doesn't like you in particular. Yes, you."

"Aoba!"

Aoba :)

The inspiration for this fic was the Marco Polo joke, itself inspired by me skipping through the event recently. In my defense I ignore most lore anyway