The USS Porter might've had a familiar name, but the Arleigh Burke -class ship was as different as can be from the mild-mannered class namesake that Roe knew.

For one, the Porter had CIWS, and for two, she had modern sonars and a helicopter with a dipping sonar, and after the shock Convoy SC 259 had the previous night, Roe was more than happy to have the steel hull with them.

"Porter, this is Roe . Glad to have you with us." The radio fizzled out, leaving Roe worried if the captain was one of the last stick-in-the-muds left after the war started.

A male voice came over the radio. " Roe, how many ships left in the convoy?"

"Seven. Three ships lost with all hands, survivors of eight ships spread out over surviving vessels."

"Alright. We're escorting you all the way to Liverpool."

"Understood. Do you want to take over screen command?"

"We'll leave it to you, Roe ." The transmission cutout, leaving Roe to plan out how she wanted to use the massive destroyer, and a pile of worries.

Explosions

Burning

Screaming

The girl could hear all of it, and after hearing it all she could wonder was "why".

"Why" could she hear it.

"Why" did she know it.

"Why" was she here.

She vaguely remembered doing something in her life, but thinking was so hard…

If she was to remain in charge of the convoy, Roe had decided it was best to familiarise herself with the newest member of it. Maneuvering closer to the ladder tossed over the side, she recalled her rigging, climbing up the side of the Porter . A hand was offered to her as she reached the deck, taking it gratefully.

The hand was connected to a man with officer stripes. "Nice to meet you, Roe. " Commander Connor O'Brien had the broad physique of a football player, and the twice-broken nose of one.

"Likewise, Commander."

He chuckled as he led Roe to the CIC. "No need for the formalities, we're busy enough as it is." Hidden underneath was an emotion Roe was all too familiar with - anger, tinged with fear. Hearing it, Roe 's stomach dropped.

"So the other convoys were also hit?"

His face turned grim. "A coordinated attack. We haven't had losses like this since the beginning of this war. If anything, it's closer to the losses of WW3." One of the first lessons included in the orientation package after coming back was about the Third World War, a conflict that spanned about two months, caused unimaginable losses and damage, and led to the end of the Cold War, with the near collapse of the Soviet Union.

It had taken all parties involved more than a decade to rebuild after the losses in that conflict, the Navy taking twice that to rebuild the fleet alone, and now it seemed like the Abyssals were at that technological stage - while humanity was still reeling from the losses suffered when this war started years ago, and the biggest thing keeping them alive was the spirits of an older conflict and the technological edge of eighty years. To say it was a bad situation, was to call murder a mild societal deviation.

"Shit."

He nodded. "Yeah. Shit." Entering the doorway leading to the CIC, Roe blinked her eyes as she adjusted to the sudden darkness.

The Captain noticed the motion. "Not used to it?"

"I never enter my own CIC normally, if you get what I mean." She gestured to the sea of consoles. "Nor do I have even half of this much tech. Aegis is a hell of a system, huh?"

"Yep. We've got Standards and ASROC, so whatever they wanna send at us, we should be able to beat off."

"'Should'."

There was a hard glint in his eye. "Nothing goes to plan in war."

Roe 's thoughts flashed back to when the convoy left New York. "Would be nice if it did."

They were interrupted by an ensign, bringing news that another convoy had been hit with missiles.

"You served into the Cold War right, Powell ?" Idle chit-chat over the radio wasn't proper procedure, but shipgirls tended to not follow procedure, nor did it matter that the radio was busy when the people using it to talk were the very ships fighting.

And above it all, Menges was bored. Bored and on edge. Convoy duty was boring normally, but with the threats of missiles, the boredom punctuated with tenseness, the feeling of paranoia that anywhere, anytime, more missiles would come flying out of the deep, striking and leaving as suddenly as it arrived.

So maybe she was using the threat to justify idle chit-chat.

"W-well, I was a training ship, and it was only into the fifties."

Mason chimed in. "Hey, that's longer than I served. I was scrapped in '47!"

"And I was in the reserves from '47! So you gotta know more than us, right?"

"B-but wasn't it covered in the reintegration packages they gave us? About the Third World War?"

Menges scoffed. "Oh, dear little Powell , you're probably the only one who paid attention during those lessons. I remember mine, I spent the whole time throwing paper planes at Mosley -"

"And I only paid attention to the parts where they were talking about civil rights." The subject was near and dear to her heart. Mason had served the war with an all-black crew, and it carried over to her rebirth as a shipgirl, where she had the distinction, good or bad depending on who you asked, of being one of the few black shipgirls in the fleet.

"So you see, the only one who can teach us about it, since we aren't in wifi range, is you."

"You two…" A sigh came through the radio. "Fine! But don't expect me to go easy on you!"

Looking between the gaps between the merchants, Menges caught Mason 's eye, and they shared a wink. Powell had been down since the first ambush out of New York, and at least this would give her a break from the self-loathing their comrade so easily pushed herself into.

And hopefully, give them the knowledge they had slept on. It had been so easy for them to ignore the lessons back then, with the entire world united to fight the Abyssals and the Abyssals using the tactics and weapons they were so familiar with.

Now, they couldn't afford to. Not if they wanted to bring the remnants of the broken convoy to port.

The latest convoy to be attacked was twenty miles south of their location, heading towards Portugal.

"That means, including the other attacks, we've got an area the size of Texas with somewhere north of five SSGs, with who knows how many more non-missile boats." A giant circle was drawn on the display, with dots representing the location of each convoy that had been attacked.

"That's a lot of missile boats, and that ignores the fact that even without their missiles, they can still do damage."

"And if the missile you saw was a Starbright, that means at least one of them is a nuc. Sovs only deployed them on Charlie's and Papa's. Underwater as long as they like, without having to surface to recharge batteries. It's a completely new dimension from the previous Abyssal threat."

Roe didn't like this. At all. "Those nuclear subs are faster than my DE's, and our sonar ain't got the strength to detect them fast enough. If it comes down to it, I'm the only one who can catch them. Our best bet is going to be your ASROC, or your heli."

"Agreed. But I can't be on every side of the screen."

"What about the centre?"

O'Brien mulled over the suggestion. "It's not ideal. Going in front would allow us to cover more with the towed sonar. Maybe a mile or two ahead, to clear the way. Still leaves blind spots, but anywhere we're placed there will be some."

"Then we'll do it like that. I'll have my girls cover the sides and rear. How long would it take to get the heli ready?"

"I've got a good crew. Five minutes from the message, and you can get your support. We also have additional support, Orions and Poseidons out of Beja Air Base."

"Pretty heavy support." Normally smaller convoys like this were lower down the chain when it came to help.

"Atlantic Fleet is treating this entire situation as an emergency. Navy reserve crews are being recalled, and they're moving P-8s to Europe for support. Matter of fact, us being here shows you're down the scale, because the other convoys are getting the newer Burke s. The Royal Navy is sending Type 23s to help, but I don't know if we'll get one. We will be getting a Portuguese frigate," the Captain consoled, "but she sailed from port yesterday so it'll be a while. All other vessels at sea are already with other convoys."

Roe looked at the map. There were still two days left before they reached Liverpool.

Would they even reach it?