Of Ships and Girls and Shipgirls - a KanColle-RP (IC)

[Yekrenia]

Lodan Lir. Leaving the docks.
Please don't get me wrong, I was rated for a maximum speed of 34.4 knots, which was fine for the SDF-Navy, but it was... well, maximum speed. Using up more fuel only to get from A to B quickly - with limited ressources, that was always fun.
But on the other hand, it was not as if the circumstances did not merit such a cause of action, quite on the contrary. The fleet was in trouble, in much of it, and they would need us to get out of it quickly.
Air attacks were always iffy for ships without or only inssuficient air cover to deal with and as 8th NAS was currently approaching the fleet, maybe with a few more planes in tow, it might come to shooing off stragglers, but I would not want to stress my luck.
"Lodan Lir, Natsukaze - thank you.", I said and frowned - sure, I was a light cruiser, but I could not deal with kids, be they destroyers or sloops. It was not that I didn't like them, but more like - whoah, would you look at that!
That, my dear reader, being a woman, a battleship judging by her fuel tanks, stepping out and close to the docks. I tried to have my eyes stay on her face, but I even I must admit to giving her a good look up and down for but a moment, before they returned to her eyes. Eyes were the windows to the soul and she seemed to me like a strong warrior and strong woman. "Ahead Full sounds good, but wait with it for a moment. I might be able to secure us a bit more firepower." I did not wait for her reply as I cleared my throat. "Good afternoon, Miss Battleship, SDFS Lodan Lir. May I ask you to accompany me and Miss Natsukaze over there..." I gestured into the destroyer's direction with a small smile. "...on a small sortie? Securing the fleet as it advances backwards in a tactically well-thought-out manoeuvre?"
My voice might have sounded a smidgen suave, but I was not flirting with her... or at least not trying to.

ARY Lanza Blanca
Friendly Base - Docks

Dios mio, this place is beginning to look like hell on Terra. The little duendes on the ground - ground crews and soldiers alike amid the chaos - were rushing back and forth, followed by fire trucks and military APCs.

Then, it occurred to me all of a sudden that I was without my rigging and sword. Pues, mi espada was with this battleship ... I think she was named Whona. But I don’t have time for hide and seek for my sword.

My rigging was of the greatest importance at the moment, so I had to make haste. Unfortunately for me, I don’t know mierda absoluta where I must get my rigging back. God, now I wish I had a caballo so I can get around quickly.

But suddenly, I heard a cute little honk of a jeep near my left boot. This would’ve earned me a giggle; however, that was not a laughing matter when I saw my captain duendocite emerge from the jeep, Fernando.

Still dressed in his black navy captain uniform, he was stern and fierce was always as he dismounted along with another Yekrenese officer. Scooping them both up to me, they both slid onto my left shoulder.

At that moment, Fernando greeted me back in his usual stern voice, “Buenos tardes, mi carina.”

Si, you heard that correctly if you understand Spanish - I’ve been called sweetheart. Fernando was a good and steadfast captain if his beard and strong facade doesn’t frighten anyone. Hopefully he doesn’t know that...

“Necesitamos volver a equiparlo al combate, ASAP.” Fernando reported to me nevertheless as if Inwas completelybfine, though that couldn’t hold me from asking him about the skies.

“Entonces necesito asegurar los cielos.”

“Negativo, hay necesidad de eso.” He barked back up to me, which left me confused. Why must we leave the skies alone? The airbase needed time and we were under attack with no mercy or time to prepare...

Well, before I could object, I heard the buzzing of friendly aeroplanes in the air, followed with the sound of ... jet fighters? Looking up to the heavens, the sight of airplanes was a relief, but so much was it curious for some reason.

The jet fighters in mind were oddly angular - triangular to be specific. They were compact and looked like flying pyramids if I was blind. Maybe they’re some experimental German-built jet fighters. But whatever - they are the most advanced jet fighters I ever seen.

“Ah si~” My captain duendocite awed, “Esos son los aviones de combate D11. Construido y utilizado por los estes ... Holtlandos.”

Holtlanders? Does he mean the Dutch? I mean, I don’t recall a country named Holtland, unless Fernando is disoriented and he meant to say Holland as in the Dutch.

But my thoughts were subsequently interrupted by another greeting, this time from a shipboy. Cladded in fur-lined garbs and unmistakably retaining an Irish presence, it was official. I was greeted by an Irish cruiser.

Why must I call this ... lad ... a cruiser? Well take a look at him. Compare my 216m to his 170m - I was a giant by comparison... soy súper serio!.

Come to think of it, I always wanted to stand side by side next to a leprechaun in traditional clothing, not in that stupid green outfit.

An armored Yekrenese conquistador standing next to an Irish leprechaun dressed in anything but that distinctive green outfit. What can possibly go wrong? Especially in this little greeting at the moment?

Well, the cruiser actually had a name, SDF Lodan Lir. Of course, he was no leprechaun; he was just um ... a little lad ... doing his job best. But when I mean doing his job best, he came along with a sharp tongue.

Apparently, aside from his sharp tongue, a fleet had recently sortie out to sea and they were now ‘advancing backwards in a tactically thought out maneuver’. Pues, mierda ... jodidamente genial. Somebody had fucked up... I see ...

On the contrary, Lodan was asking me to accompany him and this ‘Natsukaze’ in a small sortie to help this fleet in mind. Well why not? I like to see which one of those hijos de puta screwed everyone over indeed...

“Oh, how lovely...” I subsequently greeted with a chuckle at Lodan Lir, coupled with my Castilian accent, “I was going to radio to get a sitrep, but I suppose I can come along. But I’m going to need to acquire my rig before I can sortie.”

Then as I was fastening one of my gloves, I followed up with a greeting to him, though that was not to say that my Spanish was the strongest in this introduction, “Oh, and must I tell you, Soy Armada Republicana Yqraniana Lanza Blanca.”

[Fascist Republic Of Bermuda]

HMBS Legate

Her anti-aircraft suite fired blind into the smokescream, 4.5-inchers pounding, 2-pounders blazing, 50-cals chattering. A bomb sank the escorting cruiser in the rear. Legate recoiled from that, just about ramming the ship towing her in the process. It was good she recoiled, though, for a dive bomber just barely missed the ship, the bomb's explosion spraying her with water. Her ears rang from her damage, she couldn't see anything, bombers diving just into view before slipping out before her guns could get on target. As the smokescreen dissipated, she was granted the briefest respite to calm down a bit and take stock of her situation. Her damage control parties had done their job well. She wasn't taking on water, despite her listing, and the fire on her deck was out. She deliberately tried to slow her breathing and stop panicking. "J-just a bit further..." She said quietly, more to herself than anything. Just a little bit further, and she would have proper air cover.

Raketenkreuzer Oberth

snip

Oberth rolled her eyes and waved dismissively at the Novayan jetpack fairy. Typical of her ilk. "Ist sehr gut I am not looking for firefighters then, ja?" She remarked sarcastically, barely acknowledging Maria's presence with her eyes, still looking for the freighters, "I am wery avare zat I will have to work with untermenschen to accomplish my mission. It has been done before. The Second Weltkrieg, the Japanese, ja, zey vere only Honorary Aryans by decree of the Führer. So I am not about to throw any ships into a gas chamber, if zat ist vat you wanted to know. Ze question zen should be if ze Judeo-Bolsheviks among you can stomach working with an Aryan Fräulein like myself, ja. Now, vere are those verdammt frei-"

Base. Docklands.

And then a freighter practically rammed Oberth into a hug. "Ach!" She cried out, but she quickly returned the hug with a smile. "Ach, I agree, English is a horrible language, so many strange rules," Oberth replied in German, her Lower Saxony accent betraying her shipyard of origin in Wilhelmshaven. The rest of the freighters made an appearance. Oberth returned the Nazi salute as crisp as she always did. "It is good to see you are all well." She nodded to Alster, "I will help you, my men could use the exercise." The Kriegsmarine fairies scurrying to aid the freighters, speeding up when Oberth barked "Move, Schnell!"

By the time the call to sortie came in, Oberth's crew was well into the activity. "Schiesse..." She exclaimed quietly, tossing down the radio reciever, the cord snapping it back into place on her belt. Either abandon the freighters or disobey an order. Well, given the nature, they were already coming in hot, so... the freighters would need anti-air escort even in port while the base complement was occupied. At least that was the excuse Oberth would have to say to the flagship if she got angry with the cruiser.

CSS Thomas Jefferson Page

HLFFS Bailee
Fleet AA Support

"I diddly done figured! Those lil' peashooters ya got ain't gon' do nuffin' 'cept 'nnoy anyting bigger dan a monitor!" Long Tom agreed when Bailee said she and her sisters were built for anti-air firing, "I'ma built to bust blockades, air, surface, or sub!" She explained joyfully. The crews started to take notice of each other, eyeing and whispering slightly suspiciously until Bailee asked what the problem was. "Oh, them negroes gettin' uppity?" She asked, "I tells ya, ya give them everything an' they still uppity. No faults of thems, 'course, just the way negroes are. Cannae help it, it's actually purty sad, 'cause a lots of dem negroes are nice folk. Anyways, Miss Corn be callin' for us to get back to base, we should probably be headin' in that direction."

[The Selkie]

Lodan Lir. After Everyone's Return, in a conference room.
It was over. Battered, bruised, with holes where holes did not belong, but mostly alive, they were back.
The worst cases had been settled into the docks already, the designated repair and support vessels, Amy amongst them, had begun their work in getting those lassies and laddies back into fighting shape. The carriers, the battleships and the escort vessels had taken quite a beating, but according to them, they had handed one out as well.
Searc was dead.
The SDF-Navy was not large, basically everyone knew everyone. I knew that lassie better then many would assume, even with the SDF-Navy's size in mind, her smile, her walk, her talk, herself... she was gone. And it affected my sister more then she let on.
Rhiannon leaned closeby the door, her arms crossed under her fuel tanks, her face in a deep scowl, wiped clean of cordite... she would need a bath later, we both knew that. She blamed herself for Searc's passing, I could see that in her eyes. There was something... ugly in those normally shining jewels.
Hate.
Anger.
At herself, directed into her own direction. So far, she had not shed a tear, not even as she had handed me Searc's bow, or rather its remains, when she returned with the second-to-last group, directly in front of that massive battleship. Natsukaze and Lanza Blanca and I had secured the return, had watched them passing, had seen fairies of many different contingents working together to get the ships berthed and freed of their riggings, to secure them and to get them docked.
It had been heartwarming to watch, while we looked for the enemy.
Searc's bow now rested on her bed, or what remained of it. The base had taken damage, quite a bit of it, the cruiser dorm was a total loss, the Admiralty would need a bit of reconstruction, the other dorms had taken minor to medium damage. Flight operations were to resume this evening at the airfield as usual, or mostly, at least, the runway was more or less fixed again.
I looked into the assembly, to distract me from my brooding Big Sis Rhi - everyone was there, who wasn't too damaged to attend. Miuil had just finished reporting to the flagship, that the freighters had loaded off, with the much help of a lassie named Oberth, for which they were very thankful for, as well as the condition of the base.
Amy was at the docks, tending to those, who could not be here. Stilly was still out, but she was not dead, the last remaining shimmer of hope in Rhi's eyes, and in mine as well. Rhi was brooding.
I had lost sight of Lanza Blanca, who seemed like a nice woman, and Natsukaze, who was a destroyer, but I was relatively sure, that they were somewhere around here. I was surrounded by pretty girls and I could not find it within myself to start a conversation... lots of different, unknown faces, which I literally only knew in passing. After a battle gone not the way it had been planned was not the best time to start a conversation out of the blue.
But the main question was a question, that not only occupied my own mind, as it seemed, was: What happened here?
I waited until this assembly was officially opened by the flagship.

Earlier that day.

[...]
Locust

Ok, so that didn't exactly go as planned. The ships above me managed to dodge most of the torpedoes, with my subs coming back for more. I, however, had to get the hell out of dodge, since my cover was blown, and they were going flank speed, effectively outrunning my subs. I failed to do what I planned, so now it was time to leave. And so I did, taking my subs back into thier proper places and going full speed ahead toward my fleeing allies while the chaos remained.

Baka-Prince smiled.
They were getting away, but the destroyers reported the contact being lost quite quickly. Either way, he ordered the three to return to his side and to keep better watch - this could have gone very, very badly and quite frankly, while killing that blasted submarine would be a relief, he had more important thigs to worry about.
Without knowing his name, Locust would be able to get home - of course, Baka-Prince would say, that he allowed him to escape so that he might grow into a more worthy opponent, but everyone involved would know, that this was bravado as he literally had zero ASW-Capabilities.
He opened a channel to Hornissennest: [Hornissennest, recall all air assets and move to the Channel Harbour Princess in the Inland Sea. Comet, I would greatly welcome your presence there as well. Wolftraud will provide a Carrier Air Patrol for all of us.], he ordered, thiking, that long-range fighters would soon take over. They were done at the Shipwreck Islands (no need to make them aware of any other installation's position right about now), and he hoped, that they would understand that: Many ships damaged, one even sunk, all for the loss of a few minor units (his heart went out to Lamia for her losses) and an Airfield Princess. They had also gathered valuable intelligence and experience. Besides, they were on high alert now and approaching their base and its air cover, it would only end in tears to attack now. [I'm also afraid, that fishing will have to wait until another day.]
He let deeds follow his words and began the turn.
Not a bad day, he thought, but not the best. Not even a good one.
We all went home with bloody noses., Baka-Prince thought to himself.

[Higher Japan]

Conference Room

In silence, the twins soon came into the room, entering with only a single cart containing a bucket of rice and some other condiments as they bowed. "The food stocks have been struck hard. Most of the meat and other goods that came in a few days ago has now gone up in flames, we're trying to preserve what we can. Fortunately the rice and some other condiments aboard us have survived, so for now please have some food to recover energy for the next few days." Himiko said solemnly, her brother passing everyone present a bowl of rice and barely along with a small tray of 4 condiments, which were pickled plums, sardines, pickled radish and some dried vegetables.

"This is currently all we have, the meat will be used sparingly and luxuries will be limited. For now, please eat to recover your energy at least." After bowing, they both took out a small metal container and took a seat as they began to eat as well. Their rations mainly consisted of a simple serving of rice, some pickles along with regular dried vegetables. "There will be no tea today sadly, that has gone up in flames as well. Until we can find a way to replenish our supplies, I believe that this will be our food situation for the next few days."

Walking in as well, Higashikawa and Kaifu took a seat in their conference room as they ate their own rations as well. It was a much smaller container compared to that of the twins, consisting of only three fourths of the rice and other dishes than the twins had and only half of that that the others had received. Currently, Tokai was still recovering in the docks while Kaguya was currently attempting emergency repairs on more essential facilities.

[Sterkistan]

Battleship Diamantina
Conference Room

---

Dia walked in slowly, taking long, elegant steps and remaining as quiet as possible. She had her hat pulled low, down to her face with the brim obscuring her eyes and nose.
She was all-in-all a mess, her clothes and skin were tainted with smoke and scorch markings. As well as tears and holes from close misses and aircraft fire.

She soundlessly found a seat near the back corner, not even glancing in the direction of others, instead averting her gaze to other places. Accepting the food from the twins without even giving them a glance. She didn't eat however, instead leaving it sitting in front of her, like she hadn't even looked upon it. Instead keeping her head averted from the group, She did this for good reason though, to hide the tears streaking noiselessly down through the soot and cordite covering her face, leaving trails as they went.

She couldn't tell if the tears were of sadness, anger at others, or anger at herself.

---

Battleship Whona
Baths

---

Whona was sitting back, letting others more damaged than herself find a bath. Before eventually slinking into one herself. She nursed her side as she lay back, the pain already receding to be replaced with slow recovery. She thought about the mission, and just sat back.

However she had more of a neutral expression, not that of someone who was mourning loss or quietly celebrating victory. She appeared, complacent. Like she wasn't affected by the events that had just transpired.

[The Cross and Davids Star]

Prophet

Walking into the conference room, behind Dia, Prophet was probably one of the most battered, with major pieces of his armor cracked, shattered, or had gone missing altogether, his shoulder pained where the bomb hit, making it pretty uncomfortable, but he'd manage. He gladly took the rice from the two cooks.

"Lord bless the both of you, this means a lot." He spoke, turning to Dia, then to Rhiannon and a new ship, who seemed like the two are from the same country. Prophet walked over and sat down next to Rhiannon, using his arm to hug her from the side.

"I know that feeling you have, the feeling of losing an ally, a friend, a sibling almost. Searc was a good lass, lets not let her efforts be in vain." He said, attempting to comfort his girlfriend. As far as he knew, Salvation was tending to Stilly, and was confident in the fact that those two would come back safe. But he couldn't help but wonder, if he could've done better? That battle for him was just one mistake after another, and if he just stayed with the carriers, Searc might not have died. Prophet shook the thought away, he knew he shouldn't overthink it, but he couldn't help it. His crew was in his room, scratching names onto a folded sheet of scrap metal, creating a memorial for the friends who died, before scratching the words 'Battle of Shipwreck Islands' on the bottom. They swore revenge, and began training themselves in his room, preparing for the next fight to come.

Locust

Successfully escaping from the Bakaprince, I passed by the islands, curious about the damage done. I breached the surface of the water, looking at the wreck that was the former Airfield Princess. But I saw two ships on the shore, one bearing the Theocracy's insignia, as well as golden wings on his head, but no visible weapons. I decided to go through the MNC's ship database, searching over the golden wing recipients, and my answer came up, Salvation, the only medical ship to receive the golden wings, so I decided to radio him.

"MNC Salvation, this is the MNC Locust, do you need assistance?" Salvation clearly received the message, and replied with acceptance, so I changed course and made my way to the island to see what I can do.

[Legatia]

LNS Coriolanus

---

Naval Base, Sector CN-17|Operational Sector Wide Sea- Southwest|1800 hours

The winds of the sea swept across the forested island as if it were a plain, sending gusts of cool air throughout the stones and bricks of the Naval Base. The rays of the sun were a few hours from setting at the time, an orange tint beginning to dye the summer sky in colors that brought beauty to such a cruel environment. The sea was beginning to churn unsettlingly, as if upset by the events had just passed. The smell of salt touched her nose as the sound of waves lapping against the base's walls provided a contrast to the song of the winds.

As the meeting room behind her filled, the flagship of the Sector stood solitary, at the secluded rear of the building. The wind caught her hair, sending it to the occident, as she stared out to sea with a firm, troubled look on her face. She had been more troubled than she should have been by this. Near everyone was damaged, and a good deal of it she would have to account for. She knew she wouldn't be popular after this, and she accepted this fact with discontent. Her job was to be flagship first, friend later. At least, she thought, she had some positive things to say.

The scar on her side from the turret's detonation- those shots she had fired in pure anger- still lasted. The blood still soaked the white of her uniform, and she would not change from it. Not yet.

The door opened, and she stepped in, begetting her seat as she stared upon the fleet in full, her hands at her side. She stood for a moment, saluted, and waited for the return to put her hand at her side and begin her address. Even then, she took a few moments to choose her words before initiating.

"I know that you all have questions. That you all have concerns. Many things happened during that operation that should not have, and we have suffered many losses." A pause halted her momentum, as she looked once more over the room. "..I am here to tell you that this is not the end. The operation's goals were met, the Airfield Princess was destroyed, which will pave the way for our eventual return to the Shipwreck Islands- and eventually give us a strategic upper hand in the region. Air power in that area has been severely and irreparably crippled for the Abbysal forces, who will be forced to operate from carriers for the time being. Their movement about that area will be hindered by the presence of naval mines, but it is an undoubted fact that enemy presence will remain strong there. The operational plans did not account for Abbysal battlegroups of that size operating in such a range that they would have been able to respond as quickly as they did. Further plans, on my part.." She looked down, her hand tensing in anger behind the podium. "..will not make the same mistake. All I can ask from you all is your trust and cooperation."

"I wish I could say that we all made it back safely. Unfortunately, that is not the case. We have suffered our first loss in this campaign. SDFS Searc, Light Cruiser, was sunk on the return to the base by carrier-based aircraft. From the reports I have received, her passing was instant as the bombs that hit her detonated her ammunition. We have lost not only an incredible fighter, but an incredible person as well. I cannot pay tribute to her half as well as her countrymen can. Rhiannon;" she regarded the cruiser with some sympathy and a nod. "Whatever you may require to pay your respects, be it time or resources, you'll have it. Speak to me after this, if you will." Her eyes closed, as she returned to her speech.

"..Now is certainly not a good time to bear this upon you all, in a time of grief, but as your commander it is my responsibility to ensure we are effective as a fighting force. During the operation there were a number of ships that performed in unsatisfactory, improper, and in some cases, reckless manners." She crossed her eyes first, before they rested on Amy. "I will rectify these as best I can."

"SDFS support vessel Amog. Your infraction is minor. You are a support vessel, you are not armored or armed for front-line operations. I'd like to ask you to avoid entering combat areas without direct orders to do so- we need to avoid losses where we can." With a nod, she then passed on.

"RNV battleship Imperatritsa Ketrin. Your performance this battle was admirable, if not overzealous. I would ask that in the future you restrain yourself in engaging your targets to ensure your own and other's safety. You are a huge ship and an incredible asset- we need you afloat." She returned a gentle nod, then glancing onto Molihua.

"RFNS destroyer Molihua. This is common sense. If someone doesn't wish to be called formally, you will cease addressing them formally. Rhiannon told you this, now I'm telling you this. You will respect the requests of those you address whether or not to be called formally or not. This issue will not occur again."

"SDFS cruiser Rhiannon." Here she thought to choose her words carefully. "Your performance today was stellar and keeping with orders consistently. The subject of my concern is your temper. I know now is a troubling time.. but remember that despite everything, we are brothers and sisters in arms."

She gave a longer pause this time, before squaring herself up. "We have two more major infractions to deal with tonight. All the prior infractions did not warrant any action to be taken, as they're relatively minor in nature. I will begin with MNC aircraft carrier Prophet." Her gaze turned with a harsh neutrality towards the carrier.

"Prophet, during the course of operations you executed a number of maneuvers that were tactically inept and borderline suicidal. You, at one point, used yourself as a floating target for rockets that nearly sunk you, in addition to giving orders to fleet groups that you have no authority over. The next time you take it upon yourself to order other people like that, there will be much more severe consequences than this time. Initiative is a valuable skill, but you need to know when to use it. Your smoke was a good example of that. I know you can improve, so show me you can. You can report to me later tonight after you've eaten."

"The final infraction I have is of NCS aircraft carrier Novaya." A bout of anger slowly crossed her face, and not fully receding, she began. "Novaya, the display I saw from you today was of the highest levels of operation incompetence and is completely unfitting of an integral factor like you. Consider yourself lucky, because I had it half in mind to throw you in the brig the second you came in docks. You cluttered communications for an entire minute during combat to chew out Rhiannon over a misunderstanding directly after I ordered you not to. Your deployment of assets particularly during Prophet's antiaircraft discharges near to the conclusion was incredibly reckless. To top that off, you personally called me out not just once, but twice- possibly even three times- over flaws in my plans. The next time you decide to call me out like that, I will blow a hole in your hull so large you'll be able to sail a destroyer right through it. If you have problems with me, you bring them to me, and you don't bring them anywhere else- most importantly to communications on a combat maneuver. That goes for anyone else you have problems with. You are on incredibly thin ice, and I advise that going forward you tread very lightly. You are grounded as of this moment- you are not to leave base by land or by sea without express permission from me. You're going to be working for quite a bit, so you'll have more than enough time to contemplate how you're going to correct your actions going forward. I would strongly advise you think long and hard about this. You will report at 0700 for assignment."

As her address about Novaya concluded, calm came to her face again. It was the only anger she would allow herself. "..In spite of our infractions, I do want to bring notice to those among us who deserve some praise. First of those is MNC Salvation. Your services in asssisting others during the battle was admirable and noble, and went beyond your call. Thank you."

"HMBS Legate. Your crew and aircraft performed to high standards considering your equipment and circumstances, especially considering the damage you received. Good job."

"Prophet, once again, your initiative. The smoke, as I said, is due some praise. You were able to protect a good deal of our ships with that. I'd like to see more of it from you."

"UCN Nevlamas, your actions in independently engaging ships was of high merit. I believe that you have good potential and may be a valuable component in our further operations."

"Cruiser Oberth, in addition to SDFS Miuil, your efforts in the defense of the base in lieu of competent command here at the base goes beyond praise. You have my gratitude for your actions."

"..And finally, I'd like to thank SPN Fyodor Valkov. Your pilots and crew performed very well, and you were able to command the situation without overstepping your boundaries. This conduct was incredibly helpful in the prosecution of operational goals, which is why I am appointing you to the position of Carrier Leader effective immediately. I look forward to working with you." She gave a brief, but still grim smile to him before returning to the larger topic.

"..The next question I have to answer to you all is perhaps the largest one posed. How do we move forward from this?" She paced gently. "Major combat maneuvers are on hold. Patrol plans will continue as posted. For now, we are at a shortage of food and some necessary supplies, but the building materials intended for an outpost at the Shipwreck Islands can easily be repurposed for the reconstruction of the base. Any ship who has been dislodged is free to use the Admiralty building to sleep in while we repair. We will rebuild, and we can move on from this. Our tight situation will not last. We will be resupplied soon enough by regular convoys. On a closing note.." She, at last, gave a respectfully incline of her head. "..I thank everyone here for your effort today. Eat and rest for tonight, all of you. You have all earned some respite. If I am needed, I will be in the admiralty building myself tonight. You are all dismissed for tonight."

She did not remain, having refused any food during the course of it. She was sick to her stomach, she had absolutely no appetite to eat. She turned, simply, and left, entering the slightly battered Admiralty building and unlocking the door. Her office, thankfully, was unhurt beyond a few minor things on the ground, which she did not take to fix. She stared, for a moment, at the bottle of wine on her desk, the red she had enjoyed last night. With guilt in her eyes, she left her office, closing the door behind her as she began to tidy whatever she could. The cruisers would need a place to sleep tonight.

[Rustyal]

Empress Catherine
Conference Room

Catherine had taken a seat. While she internally was mostly okay, externally she was not. Her superstructure had been absolutely mangled by the AP dive bombers and 8" gun rounds. The Rustyan supership was a bleeding mess. Her clothes were basically drenched, and almost her entire face was covered in blood. It appeared like she was slightly twitching. However, when the repair boat food twin boat comrades came in, she sighed. "I can survive without food for about a week, I'll be fine..." A somewhat weak warmhearted smile came across her face.

When Catherine heard praise come towards her from Coriolanus, she scratched the back of her head, smiling. "I-I could have done the same even if I were a Takarov-class Battleship fortress!~" She giggled slightly. While nobody gets that reference, the Takarov is just a smaller Catherine. She didn't feel like she deserved the praise though. She took WAY more damage than necessary, even if her floating ability was relatively fine. Atleast her rudders or waterjets weren't hit, no? That's what she kept running through her mind. It could have been worse.

"I don't mean to interrupt anything, but I suggest we start fortifying our defenses... You could try to remove one of my turrets and set it up as a defensive gun emplacement?" This battleship was ready to give up anything. Her turrets, operating on a maglev track, really weren't TOO difficult to remove. But, still, that would cost her a quarter of her firepower. Not like it's still not an earth deleting broadside. "I-I think we just need to be ready in case of air raids or enemy ship raids at this point, until we can build our resources back up..." While she hadn't learned too much of offense tactics, she had learned what goes on in a base.

[The Cross and Davids Star]

Prophet

And there it was. Prophet didn't need to be reminded about his idiocy during the battle, which brought him down a peg. The praise about his smoke cover quickly cheered him up, and after the debriefing was over with, took off to his shed to get his stuff repaired, as well as anyone else's if they wanted. Eating the rice he had, he removed damaged armor pieces and melted them down to have them remade before adding them back on, repairing his rig and flightboard. He remembered that Coriolanus wanted to have him report to her when he finished eating, so he made his way over to Admiralty after he finished repairing. He knocked on the door, speaking.

"Prophet reporting ma'am, you wished to see me?" He asked.

Salvation

Salvation of course was happy with his actions, seeing that he had done all he could to help in the battle. After the meeting, he got up to speak.

"I'll be at the Infirmary to assist anyone injured during the fight, if any one wishes, they may follow me." He spoke, leaving for the infirmary with medical tools in hand.

Locust

I had chosen not to go to the debriefing, especially since I collected the data as I came back to base, from casualties to lost resources. I had instead went to the submarine pens, which appeared to have been left unscathed during the air raid. Communications back to my homeland were impossible, but I did have knowledge prior to coming here that the Theocracy would sending care packages, hopefully with food for my fleshed allies, and maybe a new emotion program for me to download, who knows? I do hope that they send a radio to communicate back to them, but it might not happen, I just need to wait and see...

[Legatia]

LNS Coriolanus

---

Naval Base, Sector CN-17|Operational Sector Wide Sea- Southwest|1830 hours

Coriolanus' frown did not disappear when she saw Prophet before her, merely it lessened into something that wasn't exactly displeased but not jubilant. If a frown could be called positive, perhaps, is what it was.

"..Yes, I did." She confirmed the thought, closing a large, tomed book that had fallen from the study room she was in. A stack of ruined books and papers was in the corner, a piece of paper on the dusted desk with glass scattered all about the room. "You, specifically, I wanted to talk to. I figure you might think this is for your punishment, or something." She began to undo the ripped and scorched curtains from the window. "..That's not the case. This is about you." The hardened battleship sighed, tilting a chair and wiping the glass from it to the floor. She pondered for a second to invite him to sit- but her job was not yet done. It could wait.

"I was watching what you did today.The way you did things was incredibly clunky. Out of turn, full of idealisms and heroics, but you were getting things done. What I saw in you today isn't something I see often. It was what my first Admiral, Praefectus Lichanus, saw in me when I was in your position." She dared not show it to anyone, but she smiled a little. Only for a moment. "..I see a little bit of myself in you, Prophet. I see someone with a good deal of potential." Wiping the girlish smile off her face, she gave a more austere expression to the carrier.

"It's my observation that you're of the type that we need more of. The selfless type, the leader type. But you're green, you've got it set in your mind that you need to throw yourself in there, taking hits when you don't need to. When you do things like that, all you're doing is harming yourself." She stepped to the carrier, looking him in the eyes. "There are people here who care for you. You're with Rhiannon, after all. She just lost a sister, think of how she would feel if she lost you." Passing him without glancing his way,she crossed her arms,taking a painting from the walls. "A leader has to be realistic. That is the most important thing I can tell you, that a leader has to be realistic in all things. In how he deals with situations and how he deals with others. There's a reason why you and Novaya are the only ones being punished, and I really don't want to even punish you. Still, you need to learn." Finally, she faced him straight on. "..Which is why, after some consideration, I'm going to be giving you a rather heavy burden to carry.
MNC Prophet, effective immediately, I am appointing you Adjutant of this fleet."

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

Naval Base, 1900 hours

For what was to be Natsukaze's first action in this deployment tour it was decidedly anticlimactic. Even when burning what remained of her precious fuel supply up at near flank speed she had arrived in time only to see her new and quite battered charges return to port. Her radar complement had detected nothing that was worth reporting and she had fired no rounds from her magazines in anger. The only thing she had accomplished so far was to run her machines nearly into the ground. Needless to say, her disappointment in herself was almost palpable. Had she arrived early enough she might have been able to aid the base in the anti-aircraft battle, after all, she was the finest anti-aircraft destroyer the Empire of Fusō had conceived during the Second Great War.

Making a valiant attempt to not let her disappointment show on her face she entered the briefing room behind everybody else, battleships, cruisers and destroyers alike. She took up a place near the very wall itself in an obvious attempt to hide. Natsukaze said nothing during the meeting, merely nodded gratefully as she was served dinner and resumed her expressionless façade. And yet, despite all her efforts, she stood out in the room. After all, she was one of the few still in pristine condition, still unmarked by the blood, sweat and burns her seniors were now sporting. It was... shameful to say the least and she wished she could sink beneath the floor of the briefing room in sheer embarrassment. But she couldn't physically do that, to her frustration. So she kept quiet throughout the meeting, occasionally poking at her dinner. Once the meeting was over she left the room as fast as she could, picked a suitable spot and settled down to compose herself for the inevitable report up ahead of her.
Rationally, she knew she didn't really contribute either way to the defence of the base, but yet... the nagging feeling was still there... if she had just arrived a few hours earlier, she might have been able to prevent some damage... just a few hours earlier...
This didn't happen though and she was left consoling herself with the hope that it wouldn't happen again...

Regarding it futile at this stage to brood like this, Natsukaze got up from her seated position, slapped herself on the cheeks and almost collapsed down again. Evidently finishing the cruise with a 30 knots dash and then skipping most of the dinner was not good for her well-being, and she noticed this only now. Sighing, she looked up to the evening skies and muttered "Ahhh... messed up again..." to nobody in particular. Getting up again, this time more carefully, she slowly headed for the main office, arriving just a bit later than 1900 hours. Dropping her luggage that she carried throughout the cruise by the door, she knocked thrice.

[Suoji]

Jokosuka and Josura, Conference Room, Base

Jokosuka stared down out the large table that took up the entirety of the conference room, with numerous kanmasu sitting around it. The table seemed expensive. It was clear they spared no expense when making this place. It was a shame to see so many of it destroyed after the Abyssal attacks. The retreat was quick and quiet, or, to put it another way, boring. Still, after his near-death experience he wasn’t in the best of conditions of fighting. As the flagship made her speech he couldn’t help but yawn; it wasn’t that it was boring (however it wasn’t the most entertaining of speeches), but it was the fact he hadn’t slept for about 13 hours now.

Josura sat closely next to him, looking down at the floor. Shortly after Jokosuka got back, they met up. Their introductions were rather cold but still nice nonetheless, and Josura still preferred him over foreigners. The submarine carrier really had no place in the debriefing, but stayed because he wanted to stick close to Jokosuka. Whilst he found the light cruiser boring most of the time, he was nice and welcoming towards him, even though they didn’t have much of a friendship back in Suoji.

As the speech started to wrap up, with various ships being called out for their deeds, positive and negative, both Suojian ships looked up from staring at the floor. They’d be able to leave soon. Both of them found debriefs rather boring.

[The Cross and Davids Star]

Prophet

The news hit Prophet with the force of one of Ketrin's broadsides. Even then he still could not believe that the flagship herself appointed him of all people to be the fleet's adjutant. And his mistakes during the battle earlier made it even harder to believe, but there it was, as of now he became the adjutant, whether he believed it or not.

"I understand, ma'am. I will fulfill my duties to the best of my abilities." He said, assuring himself.

[The Selkie]

Conference Room

In silence, the twins soon came into the room, entering with only a single cart containing a bucket of rice and some other condiments as they bowed. "The food stocks have been struck hard. Most of the meat and other goods that came in a few days ago has now gone up in flames, we're trying to preserve what we can. Fortunately the rice and some other condiments aboard us have survived, so for now please have some food to recover energy for the next few days." Himiko said solemnly, her brother passing everyone present a bowl of rice and barely along with a small tray of 4 condiments, which were pickled plums, sardines, pickled radish and some dried vegetables.

"This is currently all we have, the meat will be used sparingly and luxuries will be limited. For now, please eat to recover your energy at least." After bowing, they both took out a small metal container and took a seat as they began to eat as well. Their rations mainly consisted of a simple serving of rice, some pickles along with regular dried vegetables. "There will be no tea today sadly, that has gone up in flames as well. Until we can find a way to replenish our supplies, I believe that this will be our food situation for the next few days."

Walking in as well, Higashikawa and Kaifu took a seat in their conference room as they ate their own rations as well. It was a much smaller container compared to that of the twins, consisting of only three fourths of the rice and other dishes than the twins had and only half of that that the others had received. Currently, Tokai was still recovering in the docks while Kaguya was currently attempting emergency repairs on more essential facilities.

Lodan Lir. Conference Room.
I smiled as two supply vessels, who reminded me a bit of Amy and her sisters, entered the room and began to pass out bowls of rise... as it seemed, the last of our food supplies for now. So the storages had been hit... wonderful...
On account of me being exhausted from the trip, I accepted a bowl of rice, a small one, whispered a short prayer of thanks to Rhiannon (the Goddess, not the cruiser) and watched the proceedings. There was a battleship looking down, the brim of her hat covering her eyes, which, I would bet, were puffy and red. Others looked damaged, hurt, spent on all levels of their existance.
I wanted to help comforting them, including my sister (who suddenly had male company of a carrier, who was talking to her without getting to know, what a hit by a knee driven by 70,000 shp in the Lower Citadel meant... interesting), but not only had my sister the habit to bottle up such things like her grief, but did I not know anyone.
It would be rude and inappropriate and unbecoming to intrude into such delicate moments as a newcomer.
And that was around the time, that my musings were cut short by the beginning of the briefing...

Prophet

Walking into the conference room, behind Dia, Prophet was probably one of the most battered, with major pieces of his armor cracked, shattered, or had gone missing altogether, his shoulder pained where the bomb hit, making it pretty uncomfortable, but he'd manage. He gladly took the rice from the two cooks.

"Lord bless the both of you, this means a lot." He spoke, turning to Dia, then to Rhiannon and a new ship, who seemed like the two are from the same country. Prophet walked over and sat down next to Rhiannon, using his arm to hug her from the side.

"I know that feeling you have, the feeling of losing an ally, a friend, a sibling almost. Searc was a good lass, lets not let her efforts be in vain." He said, attempting to comfort his girlfriend. As far as he knew, Salvation was tending to Stilly, and was confident in the fact that those two would come back safe. But he couldn't help but wonder, if he could've done better? That battle for him was just one mistake after another, and if he just stayed with the carriers, Searc might not have died. Prophet shook the thought away, he knew he shouldn't overthink it, but he couldn't help it. His crew was in his room, scratching names onto a folded sheet of scrap metal, creating a memorial for the friends who died, before scratching the words 'Battle of Shipwreck Islands' on the bottom. They swore revenge, and began training themselves in his room, preparing for the next fight to come.

Locust

Successfully escaping from the Bakaprince, I passed by the islands, curious about the damage done. I breached the surface of the water, looking at the wreck that was the former Airfield Princess. But I saw two ships on the shore, one bearing the Theocracy's insignia, as well as golden wings on his head, but no visible weapons. I decided to go through the MNC's ship database, searching over the golden wing recipients, and my answer came up, Salvation, the only medical ship to receive the golden wings, so I decided to radio him.

"MNC Salvation, this is the MNC Locust, do you need assistance?" Salvation clearly received the message, and replied with acceptance, so I changed course and made my way to the island to see what I can do.

Rhiannon. Conference Room.
I felt Prophet at my side, felt his arm slinging itself around my shoulder.
I heard his words and managed a weak smile. I was aware, that it might have looked like a snarl, but I appreciated him trying. He was my boyfriend after all, and as I reached up to give him a peck on the cheek as a sign of my gratitude, I felt that I made the right decision there.
I smiled at him, after that, a promise for us to meet again later and talk further, but before I could make any sort of arrangement to that end, the debriefing was starting.

LNS Coriolanus

---

Naval Base, Sector CN-17|Operational Sector Wide Sea- Southwest|1800 hours

The winds of the sea swept across the forested island as if it were a plain, sending gusts of cool air throughout the stones and bricks of the Naval Base. The rays of the sun were a few hours from setting at the time, an orange tint beginning to dye the summer sky in colors that brought beauty to such a cruel environment. The sea was beginning to churn unsettlingly, as if upset by the events had just passed. The smell of salt touched her nose as the sound of waves lapping against the base's walls provided a contrast to the song of the winds.

As the meeting room behind her filled, the flagship of the Sector stood solitary, at the secluded rear of the building. The wind caught her hair, sending it to the occident, as she stared out to sea with a firm, troubled look on her face. She had been more troubled than she should have been by this. Near everyone was damaged, and a good deal of it she would have to account for. She knew she wouldn't be popular after this, and she accepted this fact with discontent. Her job was to be flagship first, friend later. At least, she thought, she had some positive things to say.

The scar on her side from the turret's detonation- those shots she had fired in pure anger- still lasted. The blood still soaked the white of her uniform, and she would not change from it. Not yet.

The door opened, and she stepped in, begetting her seat as she stared upon the fleet in full, her hands at her side. She stood for a moment, saluted, and waited for the return to put her hand at her side and begin her address. Even then, she took a few moments to choose her words before initiating.

"I know that you all have questions. That you all have concerns. Many things happened during that operation that should not have, and we have suffered many losses." A pause halted her momentum, as she looked once more over the room. "..I am here to tell you that this is not the end. The operation's goals were met, the Airfield Princess was destroyed, which will pave the way for our eventual return to the Shipwreck Islands- and eventually give us a strategic upper hand in the region. Air power in that area has been severely and irreparably crippled for the Abbysal forces, who will be forced to operate from carriers for the time being. Their movement about that area will be hindered by the presence of naval mines, but it is an undoubted fact that enemy presence will remain strong there. The operational plans did not account for Abbysal battlegroups of that size operating in such a range that they would have been able to respond as quickly as they did. Further plans, on my part.." She looked down, her hand tensing in anger behind the podium. "..will not make the same mistake. All I can ask from you all is your trust and cooperation."

"I wish I could say that we all made it back safely. Unfortunately, that is not the case. We have suffered our first loss in this campaign. SDFS Searc, Light Cruiser, was sunk on the return to the base by carrier-based aircraft. From the reports I have received, her passing was instant as the bombs that hit her detonated her ammunition. We have lost not only an incredible fighter, but an incredible person as well. I cannot pay tribute to her half as well as her countrymen can. Rhiannon;" she regarded the cruiser with some sympathy and a nod. "Whatever you may require to pay your respects, be it time or resources, you'll have it. Speak to me after this, if you will." Her eyes closed, as she returned to her speech.

"..Now is certainly not a good time to bear this upon you all, in a time of grief, but as your commander it is my responsibility to ensure we are effective as a fighting force. During the operation there were a number of ships that performed in unsatisfactory, improper, and in some cases, reckless manners." She crossed her eyes first, before they rested on Amy. "I will rectify these as best I can."

"SDFS support vessel Amog. Your infraction is minor. You are a support vessel, you are not armored or armed for front-line operations. I'd like to ask you to avoid entering combat areas without direct orders to do so- we need to avoid losses where we can." With a nod, she then passed on.

"RNV battleship Imperatritsa Ketrin. Your performance this battle was admirable, if not overzealous. I would ask that in the future you restrain yourself in engaging your targets to ensure your own and other's safety. You are a huge ship and an incredible asset- we need you afloat." She returned a gentle nod, then glancing onto Molihua.

"RFNS destroyer Molihua. This is common sense. If someone doesn't wish to be called formally, you will cease addressing them formally. Rhiannon told you this, now I'm telling you this. You will respect the requests of those you address whether or not to be called formally or not. This issue will not occur again."

"SDFS cruiser Rhiannon." Here she thought to choose her words carefully. "Your performance today was stellar and keeping with orders consistently. The subject of my concern is your temper. I know now is a troubling time.. but remember that despite everything, we are brothers and sisters in arms."

She gave a longer pause this time, before squaring herself up. "We have two more major infractions to deal with tonight. All the prior infractions did not warrant any action to be taken, as they're relatively minor in nature. I will begin with MNC aircraft carrier Prophet." Her gaze turned with a harsh neutrality towards the carrier.

"Prophet, during the course of operations you executed a number of maneuvers that were tactically inept and borderline suicidal. You, at one point, used yourself as a floating target for rockets that nearly sunk you, in addition to giving orders to fleet groups that you have no authority over. The next time you take it upon yourself to order other people like that, there will be much more severe consequences than this time. Initiative is a valuable skill, but you need to know when to use it. Your smoke was a good example of that. I know you can improve, so show me you can. You can report to me later tonight after you've eaten."

"The final infraction I have is of NCS aircraft carrier Novaya." A bout of anger slowly crossed her face, and not fully receding, she began. "Novaya, the display I saw from you today was of the highest levels of operation incompetence and is completely unfitting of an integral factor like you. Consider yourself lucky, because I had it half in mind to throw you in the brig the second you came in docks. You cluttered communications for an entire minute during combat to chew out Rhiannon over a misunderstanding directly after I ordered you not to. Your deployment of assets particularly during Prophet's antiaircraft discharges near to the conclusion was incredibly reckless. To top that off, you personally called me out not just once, but twice- possibly even three times- over flaws in my plans. The next time you decide to call me out like that, I will blow a hole in your hull so large you'll be able to sail a destroyer right through it. If you have problems with me, you bring them to me, and you don't bring them anywhere else- most importantly to communications on a combat maneuver. That goes for anyone else you have problems with. You are on incredibly thin ice, and I advise that going forward you tread very lightly. You are grounded as of this moment- you are not to leave base by land or by sea without express permission from me. You're going to be working for quite a bit, so you'll have more than enough time to contemplate how you're going to correct your actions going forward. I would strongly advise you think long and hard about this. You will report at 0700 for assignment."

As her address about Novaya concluded, calm came to her face again. It was the only anger she would allow herself. "..In spite of our infractions, I do want to bring notice to those among us who deserve some praise. First of those is MNC Salvation. Your services in asssisting others during the battle was admirable and noble, and went beyond your call. Thank you."

"HMBS Legate. Your crew and aircraft performed to high standards considering your equipment and circumstances, especially considering the damage you received. Good job."

"Prophet, once again, your initiative. The smoke, as I said, is due some praise. You were able to protect a good deal of our ships with that. I'd like to see more of it from you."

"UCN Nevlamas, your actions in independently engaging ships was of high merit. I believe that you have good potential and may be a valuable component in our further operations."

"Cruiser Oberth, in addition to SDFS Miuil, your efforts in the defense of the base in lieu of competent command here at the base goes beyond praise. You have my gratitude for your actions."

"..And finally, I'd like to thank SPN Fyodor Valkov. Your pilots and crew performed very well, and you were able to command the situation without overstepping your boundaries. This conduct was incredibly helpful in the prosecution of operational goals, which is why I am appointing you to the position of Carrier Leader effective immediately. I look forward to working with you." She gave a brief, but still grim smile to him before returning to the larger topic.

"..The next question I have to answer to you all is perhaps the largest one posed. How do we move forward from this?" She paced gently. "Major combat maneuvers are on hold. Patrol plans will continue as posted. For now, we are at a shortage of food and some necessary supplies, but the building materials intended for an outpost at the Shipwreck Islands can easily be repurposed for the reconstruction of the base. Any ship who has been dislodged is free to use the Admiralty building to sleep in while we repair. We will rebuild, and we can move on from this. Our tight situation will not last. We will be resupplied soon enough by regular convoys. On a closing note.." She, at last, gave a respectfully incline of her head. "..I thank everyone here for your effort today. Eat and rest for tonight, all of you. You have all earned some respite. If I am needed, I will be in the admiralty building myself tonight. You are all dismissed for tonight."

She did not remain, having refused any food during the course of it. She was sick to her stomach, she had absolutely no appetite to eat. She turned, simply, and left, entering the slightly battered Admiralty building and unlocking the door. Her office, thankfully, was unhurt beyond a few minor things on the ground, which she did not take to fix. She stared, for a moment, at the bottle of wine on her desk, the red she had enjoyed last night. With guilt in her eyes, she left her office, closing the door behind her as she began to tidy whatever she could. The cruisers would need a place to sleep tonight.

I listened to every word. I took them to heart.
I had been flagship of the SDF-Navy for a long time, I knew, how such things worked and if I was honest... Coriolanus did it better then me. I came from people, who had a long and proud tradition as warriors, the form my own main armament took was a testament to that, and so we also had a long tradition of dealing with debriefings, especially if something went wrong.
Coriolanus was precise and to the point in her criticism, but also calm.
I would be precise and to the point in my criticism, too - but not calm. Definately not calm. I would be loud, tearing for example Novaya a new one verbally in front of the whole assembly... but this - well, this was better. Indeed, my temperament was my weakness, my greatest maybe, and it even influenced something like this.
We made a good choice with her as our flagship.
When Coriolanus spoke of Searc, spoke of her loss, what that loss meant to us, she offered me and my kin the time and ressources to mourn her. I bowed my head lightly, thankful, grateful for her offer. I would definately take her up on that... it would not be the Burial of a Hero, which Searc deserved, but it would be a Selkie-One.
Amy nodded at her scolding, knowing, that Coriolanus was right. She did not know, what made her go to the front herself, but it would not happen again.
When the flagship turned upon me, I did not move a muscle. Was she scolding me? Praising me? Both? Neither? What did I deserve?
A few other things happened as well, Novaya and Prophet got scolded, the former far more so then the latter, scoldings and praises were handed out to those, who deserved it - and in most cases, I had to agree. I would phrase it differently in many others, but that was another story. I would bring neither up.
Miuil was praised, the old freighter nodding in gratitude at the words - typical for the Eldest of the SDF-Navy, she did stellar work. A mule, less, but the best mule one could ask for. She even showed a small smile.
And shortly after that, the assembly ended.
Who knew, maybe I could nab a place in the bed of a certain carrier tonight? A carrier, who left after the debriefing was over... I suppressed the urge to sigh. He needed a few moments to think and then to speak to our flagship, so... he had important matters to attend to.
But still...
I waited, until the last ones in the conference room were myself and any speck of dust in the room. I stared forwards, unmoving, for a while... then went outside, slowly, towards the notice board, glancing at the patrol plan. Night patrol, huh?
With Yuubetsu and Whitney.
Alright. Miuil would have to take care of the arrangements necessary for Searc's funeral. I had work to do.

Battleship Diamantina
Conference Room

---

Dia walked in slowly, taking long, elegant steps and remaining as quiet as possible. She had her hat pulled low, down to her face with the brim obscuring her eyes and nose.
She was all-in-all a mess, her clothes and skin were tainted with smoke and scorch markings. As well as tears and holes from close misses and aircraft fire.

She soundlessly found a seat near the back corner, not even glancing in the direction of others, instead averting her gaze to other places. Accepting the food from the twins without even giving them a glance. She didn't eat however, instead leaving it sitting in front of her, like she hadn't even looked upon it. Instead keeping her head averted from the group, She did this for good reason though, to hide the tears streaking noiselessly down through the soot and cordite covering her face, leaving trails as they went.

She couldn't tell if the tears were of sadness, anger at others, or anger at herself.

---

Battleship Whona
Baths

---

Whona was sitting back, letting others more damaged than herself find a bath. Before eventually slinking into one herself. She nursed her side as she lay back, the pain already receding to be replaced with slow recovery. She thought about the mission, and just sat back.

However she had more of a neutral expression, not that of someone who was mourning loss or quietly celebrating victory. She appeared, complacent. Like she wasn't affected by the events that had just transpired.

Stilly. Docks/Baths.
We had made it home, Mister Salvation and I, with the help of one of his friends. I was ushered into the docks, testament to my hand being blown apart, put under sedatives and thrown into a pool - I felt feeling returning to me.
I was still alive.
The ceiling did not look like Wembury either, so I wasn't newly summoned. I wouldn't even remember that, if I were newly summoned.
My hand was still gone, but I had gained a neighbour. "Hello, Miss Whona.", I greeted her politely, noting her... she seemed deep in her own musings to me, which was, why I wasn't speaking more.
A silence befell the two of us as I looked up to the ceiling... that's right, I promised Salvation to introduce him to Amy... what they were doing right now?

Miuil. Admiralty Building.
Immediately as the debriefing ended, I looked for the two supply vessels with the rice, calling out to them (and remembering their names from the dorm room plan): "Excuse me, Miss Himiko.", I called out to one of them, hopefully attaching the right gender to the right name, "SDFAS Miuil - on a word, please, your brother as well."
I was worried, to say the least, as a merchant vessel especially about our supply situation, but maybe we could do something about that in a relatively timely manner. We were support vessels, after all, and if we couldn't make the ones we supported fight with all their strength, we had simply failed.
A mule does not fail, especially not one as stubborn as me.

Empress Catherine
Conference Room

Catherine had taken a seat. While she internally was mostly okay, externally she was not. Her superstructure had been absolutely mangled by the AP dive bombers and 8" gun rounds. The Rustyan supership was a bleeding mess. Her clothes were basically drenched, and almost her entire face was covered in blood. It appeared like she was slightly twitching. However, when the repair boat food twin boat comrades came in, she sighed. "I can survive without food for about a week, I'll be fine..." A somewhat weak warmhearted smile came across her face.

When Catherine heard praise come towards her from Coriolanus, she scratched the back of her head, smiling. "I-I could have done the same even if I were a Takarov-class Battleship fortress!~" She giggled slightly. While nobody gets that reference, the Takarov is just a smaller Catherine. She didn't feel like she deserved the praise though. She took WAY more damage than necessary, even if her floating ability was relatively fine. Atleast her rudders or waterjets weren't hit, no? That's what she kept running through her mind. It could have been worse.

"I don't mean to interrupt anything, but I suggest we start fortifying our defenses... You could try to remove one of my turrets and set it up as a defensive gun emplacement?" This battleship was ready to give up anything. Her turrets, operating on a maglev track, really weren't TOO difficult to remove. But, still, that would cost her a quarter of her firepower. Not like it's still not an earth deleting broadside. "I-I think we just need to be ready in case of air raids or enemy ship raids at this point, until we can build our resources back up..." While she hadn't learned too much of offense tactics, she had learned what goes on in a base.

Amy. Conference Room.
"Before we do anything of any sort...", I spoke to the battleship outsizing me to a point, that me giving her lip was beyond ridiculous, but I did put in my full authority as a supply vessel, "...we need to get you fixed up, lassie. Your damage control did a wonderful job, but you need the attention of any repair facilities we have as well for more permanent solutions."
I frowned.
"This Salvation-Guy...", I said and looked Caty up and down, "...seems like a competent repair vessel. I can tug you there..." With a speed, that made a continent look like a race car, but I could. "...or we go to the bath-docks. It's up to you, young lady."

[Legatia]

LNS Coriolanus

---

Naval Base, Sector CN-17|Operational Sector Wide Sea- Southwest|1830 hours

Coriolanus sighed with some expectancy when she returned to face Prophet.

"..You can call me Coriolanus, Prophet. If we're going to be working in proximity, the casuality will help you." Pacing again, she wove Prophet from the room with a dejected sigh, knowing that cleaning that particular room was a lost cause for now at least.
"..As adjutant, your authority is not independent. At least, not for now- it derives via me. And as adjutant, the first duty I can give you is to help me clean. We'll mark your punishment down to that." Another door opened to an unused conference room, one where a few days prior a large discussion over the fleet's leadership had taken place. "..Take the chairs out, you can put them in that room we came out of in whatever neat order you can." The Legatian battleship pulled some weight for once, handling the heavy wooden table into the corner. As he'd complete his task, she began again.
"For now, though.. you've had more than enough to do." Stopping when the room was sufficiently cleared, she faced Prophet. "..You are dismissed for now.. but get Rhiannon for me. She and I have some things to discuss." Staring back at the window, flooding the room with moonlight, she gave the carrier some parting words. "..Prophet, I'm putting a great deal of trust in you. I pray that you won't let me down."

[Sterkistan]

-SNIP-

Battleship Whona
Repair Bays

---

Whona was awoken from thought by Stilly greeting her. And her attention snapped on, rolling over to see the sloop.
"Oh hello Stilly, how are you feeling?" She inquired, lazing back in the bath.
"Are you alright?" She asked, a bit more attentive this time around.

---

Battleship Diamantina
Base

Dia listened to the debrief, and as soon as it had finished she left. Standing promptly and walking out.

She found a quiet corner of the base, closer into the jungle surrounding it than anything. Looking out over the water and sitting calmly, her legs crossed and her hands together in front of her. She sat there for a while, the tears continuing to roll down her face. Before she stood and approached the nearest tree. Balling her hands into angry fists and beating away at the trunk of the tree. Punching wildly and frantically crying out with a mixture of pain, anger and sadness. She kept punching, and she wouldn't stop until her hands bled furiously.

[Kraicia]

-snip-

HLFFS Heavenforetrekker / HLTS Hazel
Sector DN-15

Hazel couldn't believe how hot the day was for being on an island. She and her crew stuck in the middle of nowhere for now until nighttime; however, Hazel couldn't help but just sit back against the palm tree and enjoy the sands and sweeping waves. With her white boots sitting next to her left and kept down to prevent anymore sand building up, she was ready to call her day a landfall if not for the fact that she had sent a message back to the 'crow'.

Once the 'crow' came back moments later, there was a new message. This 'Heba' was nearby somewhere, but specifically where for Hazel was not exactly clear. Directions were vague for Hazel, given her poetic vocabulary saying otherwise; however, she was too tired to play hide and seek with someone, especially since she was in the middle of nowhere that was neither friendly or hostile just yet.

So for now, Hazel could only look at the message and simply reply back on paper, 'No, I'm too tired to go aloft. Can you come to me?'

-snip-

HLFFS Bailee
With CSS Thomas Jefferson

"Oh why yes." Bailee stammered; however, there was still a small little thing that Bailee wanted to make clear with her Southern US counterpart, "But if I may speak of here, would you kindly not use the 'N' word. The last Marklander (American) ship of yours that said that before one of ours broke out into this two day long crowdburst (riot). Took even us Holtlanders to put the crowdburst to rest."

The Kraician anti-air destroyer gave a moment of silence to get her US counterpart's attention before she continued, "Yes, that happened; or you may also know that as the Charleston-Ferguson Befallment. In 1939, the whites on the cruiser Indianapolis and in the Charleston port thought they be funny and overly (superior) to our Afrikaners. That was one thing, yes, but their sneering pissed off our own whites too. And let me tell you why."

At that moment, Bailee took a brief moment of silence before continuing, "How many years did outsiders take to become your own people of the US? Fifty (50)? Sixty (60)? Or even ninety (90)? Well, let me tell you one thing, Miss Thomas. Every outsider that we Holtlanders welcome into our lands take usually three to four spans (generations) to even be reckoned (considered) as full Holtlanders, all 'cause they must go through inblendment (assimilation) and they forever-so have Holtland ethelmanship (citizenship). You cannot rid of your Holtland ethelmanship the moment you and your kin settle on and become Holtland ethelmen (citizens), otherwise you be put to death. Only when your third or fourth span comes along that your kin would be okay to leave Holtland and become new people of other lands. Sadly, your own Marklanders on board the Indianapolis and at Charleston port made that kind of remark referring to what I had said. Afrikaners and Arabs among our Afro-Holtland and Arab-Holtland commonwealths had undergone the same hardship like every other outsider to Holtland, but many of them were poor and looking for work - something that we Holtlanders didn't have until the..."

Taking a brief pause as a small splash from the sea sloshed against her legs, "...Bulkbuildywhorft. You Marklanders know this as the Industrial Revolution. But, that being said, our poor lived poor during this time too. But unlike you Marklanders across the Northernseas ('Atlantic Ocean'), while you were all in the US Folkwar ('American Civil War'), we Holtlanders were wracked with completely redoing our entire megasteads (cities) from the Bulkbuildyworft. From 1857 to 1890, our White, Afrikan, and Arab Holtlanders worked day and night to rebuild our megasteads from the ground up. Yes, that meant building new roads, moving old and new buildings to new blocks ... well most of them, removing the slums, and renaming some if not all of our townish road names. Like you folks, we had the labor thanks to our two commonwealths and the slums we've been destroying at the same time, but that meant we had no power or hold when we did get our hands on those Afrikaners and Arabs alike. And unlike you folks, our own Afrikaners and Arabs beated our gov' to the work rights and mootish gatherings ('political parties') first - they had the voice already and we let that happen before we even could get the hold on them. What am I saying? We underreckoned (underestimated) our Afrikaners and Arabs as poor folks, and we met their wrath when the time came."

Just after saying that, Bailee seemed to unintentionally trigger a proud moment for her sailors listening to her. All of the Kraician sailors made a loud 'URA' in near unison, followed by a burst of clapping - regardless if they were White or African. Then, all of the Kraician sailors all shouted a war cry with figurative fires in their hearts; however, it was old Low Kraician English that escaped their lips as they cried, "GON UND SPAN! AMMER IN ÞÚN GÆREN! (OLD AND NEW! ALWAYS IN ONE-HUNDRED YEARS!)"

"As you can see, Afrikaners make up the second biggest folkthede ('ethnic group') in Holtland, with Whites being the number one biggest folkthede." Bailee said as sternly as possible, hopefully not to become to proud and chirpy from her sailor fairies from cheering, "And that is why you should ne'er say any racial sneers to me or other Holtlanders, especially the 'N' word. You smite (oppress) the lesser folks in your lands, they'll come back one day to either strike you down or pull you from your weakest and darkest hours. And without them, we Holtlanders would ne'er be able to keep up with the world and we lose our name as the Gatekeepers of the Northernseas."

[Jebslund]

Hornissennest, Inland Sea
Hornissennest was furious. To her eyes, she had failed in her mission. Not only had none of the carriers been sunk, the only ship she'd managed to actually put out of commission was a mere light cruiser. Sure, said cruiser's comrades would probably feel the loss in their foolish hearts, but operationally? Who cared? There was one less light cruiser to defend their big ships, but those ships weren't without AA capability themselves, and they could bunch up if they needed to. At the end of the day, Hornissennest thought rather poorly of her contribution to the battle, and it burned her up in such a way that the presence of a superior was the only thing keeping the fury from showing. Even still, the rest of her battlegroup gave her wide berth.

All in all, she was battered, bloodied, missing nearly half her air power (most that loss from having to abandon the ones that would have run out of fuel waiting to land. Not that they could, with her deck rendered nearly inoperable to anything but her Fleigendewaffels.), all but 10 of that loss being escorts, and with nothing to show for it except a single light cruiser kill. Yep. She'd accomplished the heroic feat of sinking cannon fodder. For the lost of most of her combat capability. And had sunk zero carriers. The Jebslunder Abyssal needed a nice, giant mug of Kafferol in the *worst* way. All the same, though, she and hers stood ready to face what she was certain would be the harsh judgement of the Channel Harbor Princess. She'd certainly made more than a few mistakes during the engagement, and it would have been unheard of for the captain of a ship in her days of steel to have been let off the hook by such meager results, with (to her mind) no effort made to pursue the enemy.

[shnip]

Earlier that day.
[shnip]

Baka-Prince smiled.
They were getting away, but the destroyers reported the contact being lost quite quickly. Either way, he ordered the three to return to his side and to keep better watch - this could have gone very, very badly and quite frankly, while killing that blasted submarine would be a relief, he had more important thigs to worry about.
Without knowing his name, Locust would be able to get home - of course, Baka-Prince would say, that he allowed him to escape so that he might grow into a more worthy opponent, but everyone involved would know, that this was bravado as he literally had zero ASW-Capabilities.
He opened a channel to Hornissennest: [Hornissennest, recall all air assets and move to the Channel Harbour Princess in the Inland Sea. Comet, I would greatly welcome your presence there as well. Wolftraud will provide a Carrier Air Patrol for all of us.], he ordered, thiking, that long-range fighters would soon take over. They were done at the Shipwreck Islands (no need to make them aware of any other installation's position right about now), and he hoped, that they would understand that: Many ships damaged, one even sunk, all for the loss of a few minor units (his heart went out to Lamia for her losses) and an Airfield Princess. They had also gathered valuable intelligence and experience. Besides, they were on high alert now and approaching their base and its air cover, it would only end in tears to attack now. [I'm also afraid, that fishing will have to wait until another day.]
He let deeds follow his words and began the turn.
Not a bad day, he thought, but not the best. Not even a good one.
We all went home with bloody noses., Baka-Prince thought to himself.

Earlier that day.

[Hornissennest, recall all air assets and move to the Channel Harbour Princess in the Inland Sea. Comet, I would greatly welcome your presence there as well. Wolftraud will provide a Carrier Air Patrol for all of us.]

The announcement may as well have been an announcement of Hornissennest's unconditional surrender. The carrier Princess was infuriated by the order to give up on what she'd sworn to do, what she was hell-bent on doing, but orders were orders, even if the Prince's next command was salt in her wounds (and wounds there were plenty. The enemy battle ship hadn't managed to disable her per se, but the barrage had knocked out two of her elevators and rendered half her flight deck useless, the miracle of the distance between them being the only reason the hanger deck hadn't suffered the same, the imps within able to see protruding shells stopped just barely by her deck armor. At least, those that hadn't exploded and left portions of the hangar deck with sun roofs.), calling off her "fishing trip" to truly leave her contribution to the battle laughable.

[Alle Kämpfer, zurück zur Basis. Kämpfen Sie mit Air Patrol-Kämpfern um, um nach Wolftraud abzulenken und die Erlaubnis zum Landen zu erhalten. Wenn Sie nicht auf ihr landen können, suchen Sie eine Installation. Schwert, du hast kein Glück. Du wirst nicht in der Lage sein, auf meinem Deck zu landen.] The order tasted like ashes in her mouth. It was an admission of failure. That she'd not been up to the task she'd taken on. [Solid copy. Returning to base. Be advised deck is no longer jet-capable. I can land my Waffles, but the Gremlins will need to find other arrangements.], she acknowledged. This wasn't the end. Not by a long shot. One more chance was all she'd need. Come hell or high water, she'd have her white-uniformed whales She'd chase them 'round and 'round the Shipwreck Islands. She'd chase them 'round and 'round the Inland Sea. She'd chase them 'round and 'round the fires of the hell she'd been snatched from time and again before she'd truly give up on sinking them. When the Kanmusu had no more carriers. *That* was when she'd consider this battle over. But the first order of business was to recover her aircraft and return home for repairs.

All fighters, return to base. Combat Air Patrol fighters, divert to Wolftraud and get permission to land. If you cannot land on her, seek an installation. Sword, you're out of luck. You won't be able to land on my deck.

[shnip]
Heba.
Heba read the message with a small smile, oblivious of the beautiful kanmusu's ignorance of them actually being enemies, technically. Technically.
So, Heba, with a bit of giddyness in her heart, wrote back: Closeby. Do you want me to come over?
Truly, the kanmusu was beautiful, too beautiful for her brain to work properly, but of course she did not see it that way. Quite on the contrary, she thought, that she was fine, her judgement not clouded at all...
...one might call it a rose-tinted vision.
As her little floatplane was on its merry way again, it did miss the other floatplane, not of Heba's stock, following it, which stayed up and out of sight.
[shnip]

HLFFS Heavenforetrekker / HLTS Hazel
Sector DN-15

Hazel couldn't believe how hot the day was for being on an island. She and her crew stuck in the middle of nowhere for now until nighttime; however, Hazel couldn't help but just sit back against the palm tree and enjoy the sands and sweeping waves. With her white boots sitting next to her left and kept down to prevent anymore sand building up, she was ready to call her day a landfall if not for the fact that she had sent a message back to the 'crow'.

Once the 'crow' came back moments later, there was a new message. This 'Heba' was nearby somewhere, but specifically where for Hazel was not exactly clear. Directions were vague for Hazel, given her poetic vocabulary saying otherwise; however, she was too tired to play hide and seek with someone, especially since she was in the middle of nowhere that was neither friendly or hostile just yet.

So for now, Hazel could only look at the message and simply reply back on paper, 'No, I'm too tired to go aloft. Can you come to me?'
[shnip]

Still Earlier:

As the Fliegendeschwine flew its circles, its attention wandered to a floatplane that had been going back and forth for a while. One which, if it wasn't mistaken, was of a type usually mounted on cruisers and battleships. This piqued the interest of the communications plane, since one did not normally see such planes heading out with bombs that frequently without a call for allied assistance, and something that took multiple runs would have warranted that. But the little squealer said nothing, despite the transmission of messages being its role, and simply followed along, high enough not to be heard, but close enough to see what was going on, and to see what may very well have been fraternisation. This certainly bore watching, and the comms plane circled at its distance, waiting to see what took place.

[Novaya Equestria]

snip

Naval Base

Novaya would only snort as Coriolanus talked to him about what he had done. "To hell with you, Coriolanus. I am NOT going to report at 0700 for assignment. Looks like I should have listened to my fellow countrymen after all... Then Coriolanus can hang herself all she wants. Novaya's thoughts, filled with anger, ran in his mind as Coriolanus continues on her debrief. Once the debriefing is over, Novaya, alongside his fellow country vessels, left the room. "Novaya's getting a lot of flak right now. Is there anything we should do?" Shiroiyuki whispered to Chrysantheme. "No. This won't help him, Shiroiyuki. What Coriolanus addressed to him might worsen his loyalty and question whom he fought for." Chrysantheme replied.

"True, but I don't know about it. I believed this might cause more problems for the Naval Base and also Coriolanus. I might think that Novaya will hypothetically defect and fight for the Abyssals, which I considered not beneficial for all of us." The fairy Admiral Borealis, riding on Chrysantheme's head, joined in. "What? How could that happened, Admiral Sir Borealis?" Asked Molihua. "I told him that when we're at the docks earlier." Shinosaki said. "Broadsword told me about that. Due to rising nationalistic sentiment in Novaya, I believed this addressing towards him might spark a new path where militaristic authoritarianism flourished." Added Shinosaki. "Broadsword will be talking to Coriolanus about that one, how she addressed our carrier, and his plan (Broadsword's plan) of replacing Novaya with NCS Atlas, the timid 2nd ship of the Novaya class." Molihua told the group, minus Novaya and Broadsword. "That will help." Shiroiyuki responded.

"Admiral Coriolanus, permission to speak? Well, I'd... like to talk to you about how you addressed Novaya." Said Broadsword as he approached the Legatian battleship. "You see, ma'am, what you addressed might not help. You shouldn't address angrily to him, but you should've addressed to him calmly. But.... since you've done so, well.... that will only make Novaya all the lot more nationalistic and militaristic, maybe to the respective points of ultranationalistic and ultra/hypermilitaristic. But before you say anything, I have a proposal regarding Novaya. Since he's becoming hypermilitaristic and ultranationalistic, due to the rising nationalistic sentiment in the Novayan Confederation, I'd like to propose a plan on replacing Novaya with the second ship of his class. There is NCS Atlas, who was a more timid carrier. He'll be Novaya's replacement, or successor." Broadsword explained to Coriolanus as he shows her a picture of NCS Atlas, who, although resembling Novaya, has dark blue hair and aurora blue eyes. "Also, Atlas tends to apologize a lot. And a timid militarist, particularly due to him willing to patch up others and help anyone in need." The Novayan hybrid ship added. "I'd like to advise caution when you're dealing with Novaya. I'll have some of my fairies review each and every Novayan fairies on the impact of your address towards Novaya to them, with your permission, ma'am."

[Legatia]

LNS Coriolanus

---

Naval Base, Sector CN-17|Operational Sector Wide Sea- Southwest|1830 hours

The battleship looked thoroughly displeased as Broadsword came to her with complaints of Novaya. She was going to get to her nerve's edge of dealing with him soon. First the base panics when he goes to commit suicide, then there was the whole movie night hoop she had to throw herself through, and now he makes severe mistakes during an operation and expects.. what?

"..He's getting.. hypermilitaristic and ultranationa.." She didn't even finish her sentence. How in the hell, she thought, did this... oh. ..Oh.

"..Believe me, that was as calm as he was going to get considering his actions today. I believe I went rather light on him, considering. I'm not going to tell him it's okay, because it's not okay. When he acts like that he is being a liability to this fleet. We don't need liabilities." She gave a deep sigh again. "Novaya is a risk right now. We can worry about the possibility of replacing him once he's secure." She wanted so badly to let her real thoughts out, but she wasn't exactly in the position to do that. She took to stride in exiting the room. "Broadsword, right now, you need to tell me where he is."

[Kraicia]

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day 03 - Base Warehouse

“Well that dewriting (debriefing) was utter bullshit (rubbish).” Gibson sighed nonchalantly as he was tending to a destroyed hulk of a L-41 Tank. He was back in his work attire; jeans, white work shirt, brown work boots, and a welding helmet on his person. He now had a toolbox next to him as he was now beginning to fix the tank in mind.

“Not one time did that Cornish bitch (‘Coriolanus’) say anything ‘bout us Holtlanders.” Gibson grunted even more, “Just like the Irish, we get no’hin’ for bustin’ our arses off.”

But it was at that moment that Blakeshire was passing by and he took notice of Gibson’s personal ranting. Unlike Gibson, Blake was still in his default Kraician Officer uniform, but he was now without his rigging and rifle. So when it came to seeing one of his fellow comrades ranting, he couldn’t help but ask curiously yet directly and calmly, “Hey, what’s the matter with you, Gibson?”

One might think that Gibson would’ve been startled, but Gibson cared less as he was about to begin and remove the scorched turret of the L-41 Tank. He didn’t divert his attention outside of the warehouse to give Blake eye contact, but it was clear by Blake that Gibson was upset. This was especially even made true by the fact that Gibson even replied back, subtly disgruntled, “I do’n ‘no’ (‘I don’t know’). Ever’thin’.”

“Everything?” Blake frowned slightly yet ever so calm as usual from his seemingly blank and stern demenaour. Never had he seen Gibson this upset before, especially since it was now 1950. Gibson had been around for a long time after being remodel three seperate times - coming out as a new ship after each remodeling.

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout that uber-cunt-rag, god damn you. Coriolanus.” Gibson grumbled out loud, though anger still had a lid on top to at least keep the ranting subtle and humble at least. This was especially true as he kept a moment of silence between him and Blake. Not to mention that Gibson removed the scorched turret before slowing down and continuing.

“Look at me Blake.” Gibson sighed, defeat and tiredness suddenly escaping his breath, “I’m gettin’ old ‘n’ tired here. I could keep goin’ on, but I don’t how much longer we Holtlanders can go without any acknowledgement.”

“Acknowledgement?” Blake pondered without a frown this time, “Gibson, think about the Second World War for one minute. We halted the Nazis, and we lifted the U-Boat threat not just in that war, but in the first war too.”

“Aye?” Gibson grunted, now this time looking up at the blonde Kraician cruiser boy with a sarcastic approval facial expression, “But what ‘bout Africa? India? Midric (China)? And the damn Dawnlanders in 1945, eh? Have we ever been acknowledged there?”

It was true that Kraicia sent expeditionary forces to India, China, and directly against the Japanese (starting in 1945), but there was just it. Where was one time that those brave Kraician soldiers, marines, and paratroopers were acknowledged for their sacrifices against the axis of evil. Not one time was Kraicia given the credit in China or India, and not enough against the Japanese after 1945 - but that was something Blake vaguely understood as Gibson gave him the answer.

“I sent these young lads onto the fronts to give Holtland and the world their forthcomingness (future) without evil. I don’ care if they were white or black, even if Markland gave any hated hellfire about our blacks, I cared ‘bout if they made anything matter. We get the acknowledgement in Europe, but that’s just all, Blake. That’s bullshit after all we Holtkanders have done for the world.”

Blake, despite Gibson’s cursing and the use of US vocabulary, only made an assuring comment, “Well, we’re given greater acknowledge than some groups, like the Scots and Irish.”

“Well that’s fuckin’ obvious, eh?” Gibson grumbled; however, his anger began slowly boil over this time, “I was ready to be sunk at any time in the world, and I would’ve done that gladly in Nordafrika (‘North Africa’). I worked my arse off since the Spanish Folkwar (‘Spanish Civil War’) and you...”

At that sudden moment, Gibson stood up as he completed his angry dialogue, “...fucking think I’m kidding!?!”

As soon as he said the last word, he dropped his wrench on the ground and letting off a loud clattering and clanging sound in the warehouse. All the worker fairies either jumped from the loud noise or were drawn from their work stations as Gibson walked towards Blake. Anger had already boiled over the top and spill over, but no yelling came as Gibson reminded Blake, “Remember the Gordon brothers (‘Gordon-Class Battleships’)? Those battleships got all the acknowledgement even though they didn’t do jack shit, man! Jack shit! All they did was sit ‘round the Holtland inseltheeds (‘Kraician Archipelago’) and ‘stood on guard’, while the rest of us were all o’er the Nordatlantic and the world bustin’ our arses off! I got nothin’ for my hardships. All I got after all that in 1946 was pats on the head and halos (‘helicopters’)! So much for fuckin’ medals for my work, even after I sent these young lads to the fronts! Aye yes, I’m pissed to hell, Blake. Ain’t you pissed?.”

“Yes.” Blake replied honestly and for once, hesitantly, “But not as much like anyone else.”

“Well that’s fucking good of you.” Gibson applauded sarcastically, before he said goodbye, “Now get your mop rag out of here, ‘cause I’m already sick of seeing another ungrateful cruiser in my sights.”

“No.” Blake said coldly, stopping Gibson in his tracks.

“What the fuck did you?”

Suddenly, it was Captain Briggs’ turn to speak as popped up on Gibson’s right shoulde, “Shut up, Gibson. If that mouth of yours doesn’t go away this moment, Coriolanus could be hearing you at any minute.”

“I don’t care, and I don’t give one shit if the cunt rag hears.” Gibson grumbled to himself, “We ain’t the fucking Irish you know.”

Whether it was some of the Selkie fairies who were offended or some of the other Gaelic-related groups, Briggs could only sigh as he disappeared back into the ship.

“Gibson, you’re drunk. You know that?” Blake said deadpanned as he snuggled and smelt a whiff of Harper Beer from Gibson’s breath.

“Yeah.” Gibson grunted as he walked back to his toolbox to retrieve an apparently opened bottle of Harper Beer, “I’m sick of my life, and the only thing I like is to work.”

Just after Gibson took a sip of the beer, Blake had enough of seeing a drunken lad and decided to do what was best. He walked over, snatched the beer bottle, and smacked it over Gibson’s head. While the bottle was useless due to Gibson being a kanmusu, Blake was clear that he was upset with Gibson drinking in a public work space.

“Shame on you, Gibson. Just shame on you.” Blake grumbled as he momentarily threw the bottle on the ground, “How long have you been drinking? And better yet, where did you get the beer?”

“Shipment of beer came in this morning. And for your words, I’ve been drinking since Harper’s demise in 1943, and I don’t care.”

“You should care. ‘Cause no woman likes drunken lads. And if I have to smash another bottle on your head, I’m going to kick you and detox you myself.”

Unsurprisingly, Gibson only chuckled so lightheartedly, now that it was apparent that he was drunk, “You can try, winzigjunge (insult; lit. ‘Little Puppy’).”

[The Cross and Davids Star]

Prophet

As he went to fetch Rhiannon, Prophet could easily overhear the kracians as they conversed, picking up the pace as he wished to hear not a word of it.

"There appears to be some unrest in the fleet... Coriolanus is counting on me to help her." He thought as he was making his way back to the conference room, eventually coming upon it, and the lone Selkie around it.

"Hey Rhiannon, Coriolanus wishes to have a word with you, but if you want, I can walk with you over there." He said, giving her a gentle smile.

[The Selkie]

Hornissennest, Inland Sea
Hornissennest was furious. To her eyes, she had failed in her mission. Not only had none of the carriers been sunk, the only ship she'd managed to actually put out of commission was a mere light cruiser. Sure, said cruiser's comrades would probably feel the loss in their foolish hearts, but operationally? Who cared? There was one less light cruiser to defend their big ships, but those ships weren't without AA capability themselves, and they could bunch up if they needed to. At the end of the day, Hornissennest thought rather poorly of her contribution to the battle, and it burned her up in such a way that the presence of a superior was the only thing keeping the fury from showing. Even still, the rest of her battlegroup gave her wide berth.

All in all, she was battered, bloodied, missing nearly half her air power (most that loss from having to abandon the ones that would have run out of fuel waiting to land. Not that they could, with her deck rendered nearly inoperable to anything but her Fleigendewaffels.), all but 10 of that loss being escorts, and with nothing to show for it except a single light cruiser kill. Yep. She'd accomplished the heroic feat of sinking cannon fodder. For the lost of most of her combat capability. And had sunk zero carriers. The Jebslunder Abyssal needed a nice, giant mug of Kafferol in the *worst* way. All the same, though, she and hers stood ready to face what she was certain would be the harsh judgement of the Channel Harbor Princess. She'd certainly made more than a few mistakes during the engagement, and it would have been unheard of for the captain of a ship in her days of steel to have been let off the hook by such meager results, with (to her mind) no effort made to pursue the enemy.

Earlier that day.

[Hornissennest, recall all air assets and move to the Channel Harbour Princess in the Inland Sea. Comet, I would greatly welcome your presence there as well. Wolftraud will provide a Carrier Air Patrol for all of us.]

The announcement may as well have been an announcement of Hornissennest's unconditional surrender. The carrier Princess was infuriated by the order to give up on what she'd sworn to do, what she was hell-bent on doing, but orders were orders, even if the Prince's next command was salt in her wounds (and wounds there were plenty. The enemy battle ship hadn't managed to disable her per se, but the barrage had knocked out two of her elevators and rendered half her flight deck useless, the miracle of the distance between them being the only reason the hanger deck hadn't suffered the same, the imps within able to see protruding shells stopped just barely by her deck armor. At least, those that hadn't exploded and left portions of the hangar deck with sun roofs.), calling off her "fishing trip" to truly leave her contribution to the battle laughable.

[Alle Kämpfer, zurück zur Basis. Kämpfen Sie mit Air Patrol-Kämpfern um, um nach Wolftraud abzulenken und die Erlaubnis zum Landen zu erhalten. Wenn Sie nicht auf ihr landen können, suchen Sie eine Installation. Schwert, du hast kein Glück. Du wirst nicht in der Lage sein, auf meinem Deck zu landen.] The order tasted like ashes in her mouth. It was an admission of failure. That she'd not been up to the task she'd taken on. [Solid copy. Returning to base. Be advised deck is no longer jet-capable. I can land my Waffles, but the Gremlins will need to find other arrangements.], she acknowledged. This wasn't the end. Not by a long shot. One more chance was all she'd need. Come hell or high water, she'd have her white-uniformed whales She'd chase them 'round and 'round the Shipwreck Islands. She'd chase them 'round and 'round the Inland Sea. She'd chase them 'round and 'round the fires of the hell she'd been snatched from time and again before she'd truly give up on sinking them. When the Kanmusu had no more carriers. *That* was when she'd consider this battle over. But the first order of business was to recover her aircraft and return home for repairs.

Still Earlier:

As the Fliegendeschwine flew its circles, its attention wandered to a floatplane that had been going back and forth for a while. One which, if it wasn't mistaken, was of a type usually mounted on cruisers and battleships. This piqued the interest of the communications plane, since one did not normally see such planes heading out with bombs that frequently without a call for allied assistance, and something that took multiple runs would have warranted that. But the little squealer said nothing, despite the transmission of messages being its role, and simply followed along, high enough not to be heard, but close enough to see what was going on, and to see what may very well have been fraternisation. This certainly bore watching, and the comms plane circled at its distance, waiting to see what took place.

-snip-

HLFFS Heavenforetrekker / HLTS Hazel
Sector DN-15

Hazel couldn't believe how hot the day was for being on an island. She and her crew stuck in the middle of nowhere for now until nighttime; however, Hazel couldn't help but just sit back against the palm tree and enjoy the sands and sweeping waves. With her white boots sitting next to her left and kept down to prevent anymore sand building up, she was ready to call her day a landfall if not for the fact that she had sent a message back to the 'crow'.

Once the 'crow' came back moments later, there was a new message. This 'Heba' was nearby somewhere, but specifically where for Hazel was not exactly clear. Directions were vague for Hazel, given her poetic vocabulary saying otherwise; however, she was too tired to play hide and seek with someone, especially since she was in the middle of nowhere that was neither friendly or hostile just yet.

So for now, Hazel could only look at the message and simply reply back on paper, 'No, I'm too tired to go aloft. Can you come to me?'

-snip-

HLFFS Bailee
With CSS Thomas Jefferson

"Oh why yes." Bailee stammered; however, there was still a small little thing that Bailee wanted to make clear with her Southern US counterpart, "But if I may speak of here, would you kindly not use the 'N' word. The last Marklander (American) ship of yours that said that before one of ours broke out into this two day long crowdburst (riot). Took even us Holtlanders to put the crowdburst to rest."

The Kraician anti-air destroyer gave a moment of silence to get her US counterpart's attention before she continued, "Yes, that happened; or you may also know that as the Charleston-Ferguson Befallment. In 1939, the whites on the cruiser Indianapolis and in the Charleston port thought they be funny and overly (superior) to our Afrikaners. That was one thing, yes, but their sneering pissed off our own whites too. And let me tell you why."

At that moment, Bailee took a brief moment of silence before continuing, "How many years did outsiders take to become your own people of the US? Fifty (50)? Sixty (60)? Or even ninety (90)? Well, let me tell you one thing, Miss Thomas. Every outsider that we Holtlanders welcome into our lands take usually three to four spans (generations) to even be reckoned (considered) as full Holtlanders, all 'cause they must go through inblendment (assimilation) and they forever-so have Holtland ethelmanship (citizenship). You cannot rid of your Holtland ethelmanship the moment you and your kin settle on and become Holtland ethelmen (citizens), otherwise you be put to death. Only when your third or fourth span comes along that your kin would be okay to leave Holtland and become new people of other lands. Sadly, your own Marklanders on board the Indianapolis and at Charleston port made that kind of remark referring to what I had said. Afrikaners and Arabs among our Afro-Holtland and Arab-Holtland commonwealths had undergone the same hardship like every other outsider to Holtland, but many of them were poor and looking for work - something that we Holtlanders didn't have until the..."

Taking a brief pause as a small splash from the sea sloshed against her legs, "...Bulkbuildywhorft. You Marklanders know this as the Industrial Revolution. But, that being said, our poor lived poor during this time too. But unlike you Marklanders across the Northernseas ('Atlantic Ocean'), while you were all in the US Folkwar ('American Civil War'), we Holtlanders were wracked with completely redoing our entire megasteads (cities) from the Bulkbuildyworft. From 1857 to 1890, our White, Afrikan, and Arab Holtlanders worked day and night to rebuild our megasteads from the ground up. Yes, that meant building new roads, moving old and new buildings to new blocks ... well most of them, removing the slums, and renaming some if not all of our townish road names. Like you folks, we had the labor thanks to our two commonwealths and the slums we've been destroying at the same time, but that meant we had no power or hold when we did get our hands on those Afrikaners and Arabs alike. And unlike you folks, our own Afrikaners and Arabs beated our gov' to the work rights and mootish gatherings ('political parties') first - they had the voice already and we let that happen before we even could get the hold on them. What am I saying? We underreckoned (underestimated) our Afrikaners and Arabs as poor folks, and we met their wrath when the time came."

Just after saying that, Bailee seemed to unintentionally trigger a proud moment for her sailors listening to her. All of the Kraician sailors made a loud 'URA' in near unison, followed by a burst of clapping - regardless if they were White or African. Then, all of the Kraician sailors all shouted a war cry with figurative fires in their hearts; however, it was old Low Kraician English that escaped their lips as they cried, "GON UND SPAN! AMMER IN ÞÚN GÆREN! (OLD AND NEW! ALWAYS IN ONE-HUNDRED YEARS!)"

"As you can see, Afrikaners make up the second biggest folkthede ('ethnic group') in Holtland, with Whites being the number one biggest folkthede." Bailee said as sternly as possible, hopefully not to become to proud and chirpy from her sailor fairies from cheering, "And that is why you should ne'er say any racial sneers to me or other Holtlanders, especially the 'N' word. You smite (oppress) the lesser folks in your lands, they'll come back one day to either strike you down or pull you from your weakest and darkest hours. And without them, we Holtlanders would ne'er be able to keep up with the world and we lose our name as the Gatekeepers of the Northernseas."

Inland Sea.
Baka-Prince could very much appreciate the scenery, which the Channel Harbour Princess had set up. Indeed, it looked a bit like a beach resort, which was very fine by him, as it gave everyone a pleasant place to relax after a harsh battle - except those, who were wounded and there were a lot of them.
His own destroyers, for example, who rested in the 'hotel', the berthing space for all of them, having taken the form of a series of beach huts covered from aerial reconnaissance by the jungle itself.
He was not happy and he saw, that Hornissennest wasn't happy either as they sat under the protection of the 15inch coastal guns, countless AA-batteries, smaller guns and air patrols, which had been set up by the Channel Harbour Princess. Said Princess was a tall woman, who certainly had the fuel bunkers to act as a supply depot, her red eyes on both the Princes and the Princess, as well as a fourth, more unexpected guest: Battered, bruised and heavily damaged, Lamia had made her way over to the assembly.
Baka-Prince bowed his head respectfully to their host, gratitude in his eyes, old ceremony.
The CHP nodded. "Well, then...", she said, "Glad to have you all here. My condolences, Lamia." The Demon took it with a bow. "Now... you all tell me, how did Chill die?"

Heba. Earlier.
Did she want to pay a visit to the beautiful vessel?
Oh, yes! You bet she wanted. She... could she abandon her post? This was her assigned position, after all, and they would be mad at her, if she left her assigned spot... but she wanted to meet her and... but...
Heba sighed.
There was no way out of this, was there? She would have to continue with written messages. Unaware of the little birdie watching them, she wrote: No. I can't leave my post. Tell me about yourself.
And with that, her own reconaissance aircraft was on the way.

-SNIP-

Battleship Whona
Repair Bays

---

Whona was awoken from thought by Stilly greeting her. And her attention snapped on, rolling over to see the sloop.
"Oh hello Stilly, how are you feeling?" She inquired, lazing back in the bath.
"Are you alright?" She asked, a bit more attentive this time around.

---

Battleship Diamantina
Base

Dia listened to the debrief, and as soon as it had finished she left. Standing promptly and walking out.

She found a quiet corner of the base, closer into the jungle surrounding it than anything. Looking out over the water and sitting calmly, her legs crossed and her hands together in front of her. She sat there for a while, the tears continuing to roll down her face. Before she stood and approached the nearest tree. Balling her hands into angry fists and beating away at the trunk of the tree. Punching wildly and frantically crying out with a mixture of pain, anger and sadness. She kept punching, and she wouldn't stop until her hands bled furiously.

Stilly. Docks.
I lifted my arm out the water, showing the stump, where they were already preparing to put a hand back there. One of the advantages of being a shipgirl, I guess, we had a far wider range of things we could get fixed then normal humans, missing limbs included.
"I had been better, but the bath is nice.", I said with a slightly forlorn smile. I thought, that I could trust Miss Dia's sister, at least for a bit, "Mister Locust saved me and Mister Salvation from our predicament after the battle was over, but... I felt so useless... I mean, I heard about Searc and..." My voice hitched. She had led my flotilla several times, that oversized destroyer, had been there, when we had boy-troubles (usually involving rowdy Lutetiian destroyers)... I would miss her. "...and..."
A drop fell from my face, but I'm sure, that it was only water.
"...could I have helped her...?"
My whisper was accompanied by me shaking my head, chasing the thought away, before I set my face into the bright and sunny smile I was known for, turning to Miss Whona... well aware, that the smile would not reach my eyes. "And how about you, Miss Whona?", I asked.

Prophet

As he went to fetch Rhiannon, Prophet could easily overhear the kracians as they conversed, picking up the pace as he wished to hear not a word of it.

"There appears to be some unrest in the fleet... Coriolanus is counting on me to help her." He thought as he was making his way back to the conference room, eventually coming upon it, and the lone Selkie around it.

"Hey Rhiannon, Coriolanus wishes to have a word with you, but if you want, I can walk with you over there." He said, giving her a gentle smile.

Rhiannon. With Prophet.
I smiled and turned to my boyfriend, as he approached, returned his gentle smile.
Or tried to... there was still something ugly, hateful in my eyes, but it was not directed at him. The Abyssals would pay. They would fucking pay!
But then, the raging storm in my heart told me to do something else: Softly, I slung my arms around Prophet's midriff, buried my head in his chest and closed my eyes. I had heard his words, about Coriolanus wanting to see me, but she could wait for a minute or two. She would prefer me in a halfways decent state of mind, not half-Abyssal.
And the damn burst.
I felt sorry for Prophet's clothes, which were getting wetter and wetter as I silently cried into his chest, allowing myself this moment of weakness as we were alone. This one moment, where I did not need to be the SDF-Navy Light Cruiser SDFS Rhiannon, the Pride of the Fleet, flagship, leader, the most distinguished vessel of the SDF with the exception of Miuil, carrier of a name, which had been written into my people's history long before the very city I had been built in had been founded.
I was Rhiannon. A lassie, who seeked protection, comfort in the arms of her boyfriend, a lassie, who just lost a very, very close friend, a sister, almost...
Would my tears dwell that ugly, all-consuming fire, though?

[Rustyal]

Empress Catherine
Conference Room

Seeing as her suggestion was mostly ignored due to Prophet getting promoted, she sat in silence, before looking to Amy. "You know what, I could use a repair. Sitting like this is nyet fun..." She stood up, stretching and sighing at the same time. Catherine was about done with sitting here anyway. She stepped over to Amy. "You know better than I do about damage repair. And no, you don't have to tow me." She giggled a bit. "Repair baths should work fine once I stop bleeding. I need the bath anyway..." She twisted her own torso, cracking her back. Those many hits had rattled her internals.

[Novaya Equestria]

snip

Naval Base Admiralty Building

"Novaya is heading back to his room, with Molihua, Chrysantheme, Shinosaki, and Shiroiyuki heading back to their designated rooms." Reported Broadsword to Coriolanus. "With your permission, ma'am, I'd like to lock Novaya in or maybe throw him into the brig. Looks like he's really angry about everything that turned against him; too much flak he received." He added. "I'll show you the way, ma'am." He said and leads her to Novaya.

Naval Base Dorms

"Are you sure about wanting to be alone, Novaya?" Chrysantheme asked Novaya with concern. "Yes, now go away." Replied Novaya. "But you're not okay, and please you must-" Shinosaki tried to reason with him, but Novaya raised his voice and yelled, "SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING DISGRACEFUL SCUMBAG!" The entire Naval Base heard his angered yell. "SHUT UP AND GO AWAY!" He yelled again as he enters the room that he shared Sergei with and SLAMMED the door, and locked it. Then, Novaya barricaded the door and window before sitting in the corner, arms wrapped around his legs as he quietly cries. "It's just.... I thought I did all I could to protect us.... instead, I received so MUCH flak from everyone... Novaya murmured as he wiped his tears. "That's not me though... but if I... I didn't meet Rear Admiral Coriolanus' expectations.... it's just... I thought could give my all for everyone here..." Again he murmured as he wept.