14799d: Will you knock it off, the poor girl is hiding with the Indonesian Navy.

It was so far a normal morning at the naval base just outside Jakarta. Admiral Darren had yet to arrive, it was still extremely early, but that simply allowed a certain 1st Sergeant to make sure everything was in order. He wasn't a yeoman but he could insure that no shipgirl shenanigans had taken over Darren's office. The Admiral liked to have the opportunity to troll his girls on the job.

Thus it was, as the Sergeant was wondering the halls, he heard some whimpering. It wasn't very loud but it was loud enough for him to follow the sound to the source. A shipgirl, clearly as no human would wear such a short scandalous skirt. Her whimpers got louder when she saw him.

He tried soothing her, recognizing how scared she must be. "Hey it's okay."

"N-no, leave me alone." She whined, trying futilely to cover her hair. But all she had was a tiny bandana which didn't do much in that regard.

Quickly recognizing how indecent she must feel, he scanned the room, finding a discarded T-shirt which he handed to her. Her eyes flashed their gratefulness. She put it on. "Thank you sir." She squeaked.

He held out a hand for her which she accepted after a moment. He couldn't pull her upright of course but the gesture was appreciated. She tied the shirt tight around her head before facing him, head respectfully lowered. He put a finger under her chin. At first, she tried to flinch away. "Hey now. This isn't the Middle East. You can look at me." He said.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his. They were green, he noted. Her uniform was obviously Iranian. 1980s by the look of it. It was pretty standard except for the short skirt and high boots. She offered him a shy smile.

"What's your name, miss?" He asked.

"IRIS Sabalon sir." She replied.

"Call me Sarge. Unlike the officers on this base, I work for a living." He said and she giggled. Good, she was starting to come around.

"What's a frigate from Iran doing in Indonesia?" He asked.

"I'm in Indonesia?" She frowned, consulting her GPS or whatever it was that shipgirls used.

As she did so, the sergeant heard some very familiar footsteps coming down the hall. Sure enough, the door banged open. "Yo Sarge!" A visiting Iowa grinned. The regular one thank SecNav. If Yang!Iowa was here too... "Didn't see you at chow so I decided to come looking for you."

"Thanks Iowa but I was a little busy-" He broke off, looking around for Sabalon but the frigate was nowhere to be seen. At least until he looked up. The Iranian was clinging to the top of a cabinet, eyes wide as saucers as she gazed at Iowa.

The battleship craned her head back to look at the other ship, confusion on her face. Then the sergeant groaned when he saw a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Aren't you the most delicious looking morsel." She sang.

"No-no please. No more! I'll be good, I swear!" Sabalon sobbed.

The sergeant made his own attempt at calming her. "Sabalon, Iowa isn't going to hurt you-"

"You know, Sammy B is a friend of mine." Iowa interrupted, a hard tone entering her voice. Now the sergeant was confused as what did one of New Jersey's murderballs have to do with- wait!

"That wasn't me! It was the minesweepers!" Sabalon cried.

"A bit quick to wipe your hands aren't you, little Miss Nasty?!" Iowa purred.

Sabalon whimpered, unable to scoot along the cabinet any further. She had her eyes squeezed shut, even as tears leaked from them. And she was trembling with fear. The sergeant couldn't blame her. Taking a Mark 82 right down the smokestack shortly after her sister was pounded to death certainly left its impression on her.

"Sabalon, that war is over. And while the US and Iran aren't on the best of terms, they're willing to put that aside to fight Abyssals." The sergeant said.

Sabalon was a frigate. And frigates were bred to be scouts back in the day. The modern variant still carried that curiosity and it began to overcome her fear enough to ask a question. "What are Abyssals?" She asked.

"Like us but darker." Iowa replied. "They're evil and want us and every human on the planet dead."

"Oh." Sabalon mumbled.

"Right." Iowa sighed after a minute. "I've had enough. I'm hungry, I want chow and I refuse to stand around waiting for this scrumptious little thing to come down. So."

Sabalon squealed and the sergeant facepalmed as Iowa effortlessly lifted the cabinet and shook it vigorously. After a few moments, the frigate lost her grip and fell to the ground. Before she could get up and run, Iowa was on her. She scooped Sabalon up over her shoulder and walked out. "You coming sarge?" She asked.

"Put me down! Please put me down! I promise I'll be good. Please don't hurt me! Don't hurt me..." Sabalon's pitiful whimpers echoed down the hall. The poor girl was beyond traumatized and Iowa's actions were not helping the situation. Nor was her "bedside manner".

The sergeant followed them to the mess hall in time to see Admiral Darren arrive. "Everything okay here, sergeant?" He asked.

"Just another day at the office sir." The sergeant replied.

At that moment, both men heard Iowa's voice ring out. "I'm going to fatten you up. You're way too skinny."