Boston Harbor – 4221′37″N 713′28″W
Even with living in a world where humans could fly, the appearance of three girls traveling up Boston's inner harbor without the assistance of a boat was unusual. Being a Saturday morning also didn't keep people from noticing as the trio passed the old star fort, Castle William.
Spinner looked to the left before shifting her miniature dual-barrel fifty-caliber machine gun then gave a little wave. "So much for anonymity. If our stopping for breakfast at the diner didn't make PHO, this surely will."
Astoria, who had been speaking with her fairy Captain, looked towards shore and then shrugged. "Well, none of us are submarines, so can't be helped."
Spotting at least two people taking photos, Taylor knew what they wore would be confused with tinker-tech, leaning heavily toward military aesthetics. Both smaller shipgirls' rigging consisted of armored backpacks, with Spinner's being white and red instead of hazy grey and sporting a lot more electronics. However, Eagle had small secondary guns sticking out along with a miniature 4' gun in her right hand as opposed to Spinner's heavy machine gun carried in both.
With a bit of historical knowledge, particularly of the New Orleans class Heavy Cruiser, one could easily see how Astoria's rigging reflected a ship of that class. She was the most impressive of the three, with a copy of the ship's main hull and superstructure fitting around her back and shoulders, along with multiple turrets, anti-aircraft guns, and radar equipment.
"That's not smog," Eagle, who had been viewing the other side of the harbor, spoke up.
"You're right, but not sure what it is," Astoria replied. "It's thicker in most cities, although Brockton Bay was the worst."
"Not anymore," Spinner noted with a grin.
"True, it's gotten better."
"You know, the heavy feeling reminds me of the start of the war."
"What do you mean?" Astoria asked.
"The fear, the feeling of hopelessness? Especially when the average joe started to realize that the enemy wasn't a faraway danger when U-boats began sinking shipping right off the Coast. It became a little better during '43 and a lot more in the summer of '44. By the time I was sunk, my crew was actually looking forward to the future."
A feeling of mused.
"Seems pretty clear up ahead," Spinner pointed towards Charlestown as the three started to sail northwest.
"Well, of course," Astoria grinned. "That's where old Connie and the Cassin Young are docked."
"Cassin Young's a Fletcher, right?" Eagle asked eagerly.
"Sounds like you have a crush," Spinner joked.
"No, it's not that," the Navy patrol craft insisted. "I just think they're the bee's knees, you know. My sisters and I would have loved to have been more like them. It just wasn't in the cards. So can we visit?"
"Sure, I had planned to anyway. However, that's Accord's stomping grounds, so we do need to keep an eye out on things," Astoria explained. "Newfoundland's been here the most, but mostly driving around Boston General but the PRT so far hasn't caused any trouble."
"So, where is their building?" Spinner asked.
Astoria pointed slightly behind her. "Near the airport. So even if they wanted to, it would take some time for Director Armstrong to get his people on this side of the river to talk to us."
"Are they really a problem, ma'am?" Eagle frowned.
"Well, no. They're just like every other governmental agency, both good and bad, except they have quite a lot of power over parahumans. And according to what I have read, they consider us such."
"But we're not."
Astoria nodded. "I agree, but they won't care. We'll just be categorized as parahumans with different powers."
"Bet good money that Armsmaster, or any tinker for that matter, would love to take a poke at our rigging," Spinner laughed.
"Not going to happen," Astoria sighed. "Newfoundland's been playing a bit of cat and mouse with the Brockton Bay PRT, but eventually, we're going to be running into them."
"I'm surprised she hasn't since you mentioned working with Panacea a couple of times per week," Spinner said.
"I don't think they like to mess with healers too much," Astoria replied.
"Oh, that makes sense."
"I would think the Navy would object to them trying anything," Eagle insisted.
"And the Coast Guard, too," Spinner nodded. "Can't say anyone's happy with the PRT right now, especially after what happened to my crew."
"Even so, technically, we are no longer commissioned ships, so that's a grey area that hopefully the higher-ups will deal with. However, no need not to be professional if the two of you encounter them for some reason. And if you need to give a report, make it clear and concise."
"Yes, ma'am," the two smaller shipgirls called out.
U.S. Coast Guard Sector Boston
Lieutenant Alan Evans, US Navy, and Lieutenant Paul Alcaraz, Coast Guard, stood together at the end of the pier next to the station's boathouse, watching as one of the few active Marine Protector-class patrol craft crews prepared to depart. Although the Boston sector was still essential to the nation's security, the service needed to work with a much smaller budget.
"Is that the Goblin?"
"Yeah, Anna Swenson's boat."
The two men waved as it got underway but jumped when it blared its horn twice once it cleared the pier.
"That's the Astoria," Lieutenant Alcaraz noted as he watched the crew of the patrol boat and three shipgirls greet one another in passing.
"So that's what their rigging looks like." Lieutenant Evans leaned forward for a better look. "Astoria's not lacking for firepower."
"Yeah, even though her guns might look small, as one who saw what they can do up close, I'll tell you it was still impressive." Lieutenant Evans frowned. "The other two are just kids, middle schoolers at best."
"Look at the one on the left with the blue hoodie. She's wearing Coast Guard colors," Lieutenant Evans said, turning to the man next to him, surprised at the implications.
Lieutenant Alcaraz felt his heart freeze as the white-haired shipgirl and the other two waved before slowing down. The two stepped back when the rigging vanished in a soft flash of light.
"USS Astoria," the older of the three girls announced, snapping off a salute that was automatically returned. Then, she gave a small smile. "It's good to see you again, Lieutenant Alcaraz. And you must be Lieutenant Evans. Archerfish mentioned that you would be here waiting for us. Let me introduce you to my two companions. On my left is USS Eagle-56."
The Navy patrol craft stepped forward and snapped a salute before stepping back. "Pleasure to meet you both."
"And to my right," Astoria continued, eying the Coast Guard officer. "Is USCGC Spinner."
"Hey Paul," the shipgirl said warmly. "How's Mary and the kids? Is little Sophia still keeping you both up at night with her colic?"
"How is this possible," the Coast Guard officer whispered.
"No clue, one second, we're getting shot at, the next Astoria appears with her big ass eight-inch guns, and boom," Spinner shrugged sadly, then listed all the damage to her hull. "I tried my best to stay afloat."
Lieutenant Alcaraz just nodded, his eyes still wide.
"But I knew someone was coming to help, so I made sure to stick around until you were rescued. Then, the next thing I knew, Archerfish was breaking the surface, and I was standing next to her."
"I know others are waiting for us, Lieutenant Evans," Astoria interrupted. "Why don't we all head in and let Spinner and Lieutenant Alcaraz tail behind us to catch up."
It was a short distance from the boathouse to the main building. However, even with it being Saturday, the Coast Guard was still hard at work, so their arrival did not go unnoticed. Several seamen stepped forward to thank her, which slowed them down, but it also allowed Spinner and Lieutenant Alcaraz time to talk. By the time they reached the doors, Taylor had to smile when she heard cackling behind her as the pair reminisced about some incident with a fishing boat.
"I'm sorry, I am not familiar with a USS Eagle," Lieutenant Evans said, passing his badge over a door scanner and allowing them into the building.
Eagle thanked him as she entered. "I understand, Lieutenant. There were a lot of Navy ships in service back during the war. Hard enough to keep track of all the Fletchers, much less us older patrol craft."
After the three checked in and were now wearing visitor badges, they continued down a hallway.
"So, you were commissioned?"
"Back in 1919. Unfortunately, because of my class's poor sea handling, only eight out of sixty of my sisters were left when the war started."
Astoria smiled. "You are a little top-heavy."
Eagle laughed softly, looking down; they were definitely larger than Spinner's. "Yes, well, that's true. Makes it hard when the sea's rolling around."
"So, were you stationed around here?"
"Not too far, Naval Air Station Brunswick, mostly offshore anti-submarine work, then ate a torpedo at the end of April '45. And much like Spinner, I found myself standing on the surface some sixty years later."
After another hallway, Taylor wasn't too surprised to find the U.S. Coast Guard Sector Boston conference room to be rather large. Its oblong wooden table could fit over a dozen chairs and two state-of-the-art wall monitors with plenty of places to hook everything up.
"That's a lot of brass," Eagle nervously whispered, looking at one of the monitors.
Taylor nodded, noticing the rear admiral of the Coast Guard at the table, a vice-admiral of the Navy on a monitor, and a couple of Coast Guard captains on a split screen on another. There were a couple of lieutenants, some of whom she also knew, in the room as well. She was, however, surprised at the two suits sitting at the table, so not everyone was military.
"Wonder if they are PRT," Spinner whispered, noticing the same but still wide-eyed at her old boss's boss being so close.
"Let's start this," the Coast Guard rear admiral gave the girls a smile, then nodded to a petty officer who punched a couple of buttons on a computer, then nodded.
"My name is Rear Admiral Perks, district commander of all of New England," he then looked up at one of the monitors. "And I'm sorry for the unexpected crowd, Astoria, but a number of people wanted to meet you."
The heavy cruiser gave him a good-natured smile. "No worries, sir, although I will admit I haven't seen this much brass since I was Admiral Fletcher's flagship at Midway."
That comment surprised many, but the Navy admiral on the screen just nodded. "Well, good morning. My name is Vice Admiral Sanders, and I am honored to meet with you today. Although it was called something different sixty years ago, I am part of the U.S. Northern Command that oversees the regions from Maine to Delaware. I am here on behalf of the Secretary of Defense and the President of the United States to thank you, Astoria, for coming to the defense of the USCGC Spinner. Although, before we start, perhaps you can introduce your two escorts."
"Yes, sir," the heavy cruiser nodded, then turned to the two at her side.
"USS Eagle-56," the Navy shipgirl announced, voice firm, snapping off a salute.
The blue-hooded shipgirl followed much the same. "USCGC Spinner."
After a moment of stunned silence, the room broke out in a somewhat loud discussion before it quieted down.
Rear Admiral Perks looked at his subordinate. "Paul?"
"Sir, she," the lieutenant took a breath. "We spoke briefly; however, what she knows can only be known if she was a member of my crew or..."
"Impossible."
"No less impossible than humans flying without some sort of aircraft or shooting heat rays out of their eyes like something out of the comic books my crew used to read." Eagle turned to the officer on screen who spoke.
Rear Admiral gave the man a look. "Perhaps we can table that discussion for another time. We have already vetted Archerfish, so personally, I have no problem believing who she claims to be."
"I agree; we're here to praise Astoria for her actions; any esoteric discussions can come later." Vice Admiral Sanders insisted. "Astoria, the Navy, the Coast Guard, and the President of the United States want to thank you for your actions on September 22, 2009. Although we would like to make it more public, you have been awarded a Presidential Unit Citation, which will be added to your official military record, along with your two battle stars."
Astoria's eyes opened wide. A little choked up, she replied, "Thank you, sir."
"Not the strangest thing the U.S. Navy's done," he replied with a small smile. "But we all believe that you deserve the recognition."
He then looked down at a piece of paper.
"By virtue of the authority vested in me as President of the United States and as Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the United States, I have today awarded the Presidential Unit Citation to the USS Astoria (CL/CA-34) for extraordinary heroism and outstanding performance of duty in combat against an armed enemy. The unit displayed such gallantry, determination, and esprit de corps in accomplishing its mission under extremely difficult and hazardous conditions. The actions of USS Astoria (CL/CA-34) reflect conspicuous gallantry and extraordinary heroism in keeping with the finest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit on the United States Armed Forces."
After the short ceremony, the three shipgirls took a seat when Taylor felt a small hand slip into hers and gave it a squeeze.
"Good job, boss," Spinner whispered.
"I don't think I deserve it."
"My crew would say otherwise."
The two suits finally spoke, revealing their identities not as PRT agents but as employees of the FBI and DEA. They, too, wanted to thank Astoria and her fleet for their hard work over the summer dealing with drug smuggling and human trafficking. Taylor didn't realize how much impact her going out every day over the summer had caused.
Vice Admiral Sanders said afterward. "So, Astoria, for all you and your girls have done for the United States the last few months, is there anything we can do for you."
Taylor nodded. "Yes, sir, if possible, we need an additional place to do repairs. Currently, we have one, and it's centrally located, but I found it does limit our patrol area. Worse, if one of us has an issue, it would take some time for Vulcan to sail to that location."
"She's your command's repair ship."
"Yes, sir."
"I assume that a full dry dock won't be necessary. I think we would have heard if something like that suddenly appeared," Rear Admiral Peeks said.
"That would be correct, sir. We actually only need a space for a bath, one with specific chemicals added. Vulcan built the first one and has served us well, but a second or even a third would be of immense help."
The Vice Admiral chuckled, "Wish it was that easy to repair one of our ships. What else, how do you resupply."
"We eat a meal," Astoria almost laughed at the incredulous looks.
"How does that work?" Lieutenant Evans asked.
"Not sure. How does a bath, even full of chemicals, do maintenance. Although I think we can be thankful for that, as I am fairly sure there is little chance that a factory is currently making eight-inch shells."
"Torpedoes, too?"
Astoria nodded.
"So, fuel and ammunition are simply restocked when you eat a meal?" the Vice Admiral confirmed.
"Yes, sir."
One of the Captains then asked, "Can you also tell us, Astoria, that as a New Orleans class heavy cruiser, you currently have your wartime loadout."
"Yes, sir, it's the actual amount I had on August 9."
"The night you were sunk," Lieutenant Evans added.
Astoria nodded. "It's also the same for the rest of us. Although Archerfish was decommissioned back in 1968, she went back to her 1945 loadout and armaments, including both her 4-inch deck gun and anti-aircraft guns."
"Why 1945?"
"Not sure, Sir," Astoria answered.
Vice Admiral Sanders looked off to the side for a moment, then said, "Well, you have given us a lot to think about. I believe the Navy and Coast Guard can collaborate with this endeavor so let's see what can be arranged. If nothing else, maybe we can get all of you cards for the commissary."
That put a smile on all three shipgirls' faces.