KanColle 2000 [IC Thread]

[Stormwrath]

Image subject to change.

A mysterious fleet appeared from the depths of the ocean.
Mankind named them Abyssals.
From destroyers to super-dreadnoughts,
their varied attacks drove humanity from the seas.
Only one thing can stand against them…
Girls who possess the souls of warships from years past,
the Fleet Girls.

Using weapons known as outfits,
they were born with the power to fight the Abyssals.
With their help, a mission to take back the seas
is about to begin.

OOC/Signups Thread | Archive Thread | Rules | Application | The Naval Station | Fleet Girl Categories | KanColle Wiki

[Stormwrath]

About 65 nautical miles WSW of Tarawa

The waters of the Pacific Ocean appeared strangely tranquil, in spite of the ominous storm clouds that were convening in one place. These cloud were painted in dark grey shades, casting a shadow over the water's surface. Ripples began to form on the surface of the sea as the wind gradually grew stronger and stronger. The ripples turned into small waves, and the sea became more and more turbulent. Large cumulonimbus clouds occupied much of the overcast sky as far as the horizon can see — or at attempt to see — and white sparks of lightning flashed at the base of a far-off towering cloud, with the accompanying thunder following a couple of seconds later.

From above, there appeared to be trails of white foam cut through the water's surface by strange black beings traversing the bluish-grey expanse. If God would zoom in closer to the surface, he could descry creatures that were horrifying amalgamations of humans and monsters — as if Davy Jones himself came back to haunt the seven seas once more by opening up the freaks of nature that he had been keeping in his eponymous locker. Perhaps they were H. P. Lovecraft's frightening creations appearing in our realm of existence. Yes, it was hard to describe the Abyssals, but simply put they are the terror of mankind and the fiends of the waves. They were the reasons why the world's coastal cities were in peril, why the seas are much more dangerous places, why some humans don't bother to go to the beach to bathe.

The Abyssal leading the pack, a Wo-class carrier, suddenly turned her head to the sky, for its ears caught the distinctive sound of jets roaring above their heads. From behind a cloud, three F/A-18E Super Hornets flew with great speed and descended to a lower altitude. One of the Abyssal escorts — one that resembled a mutant black shark — opened its mouth, revealing a gun inside. It faced the direction of the planes and fired at it, but it was to no avail. The jets got close to them and released the guided missiles from their pylons, severely damaging an Abyssal destroyer escort. The other Abyssals reacted, looking left and right to find out whatever sent the fighters — at the same time beginning to break their formation to shoot the F/A-18s down.

On the other side of the battle space, a few human forms could be made out in the distance, faintly resembling the Abyssals. They weren't as monstrous as their counterparts — in fact they looked more humorous than they were, wearing heavy and awkward backpacks on their shoulders. However, these were no ordinary humans, and neither were their backpacks. In fact, it wouldn't be right to say that they are human at all, in spite of their resemblance to young human women. They're the Fleet Girls, warships of the world personified. Here they came from the horizon with their backpacks of turrets and missiles, ready to engage the aliens should they come up on their scanners.

An aircraft carrier girl, John C. Stennis — a cruiser, Ticonderoga — and four destroyer girls; Kongō, Kirishima, Arleigh Burke and John Paul Jones — were on a reconnaissance mission. Stennis felt her ears twitch as the F/A-18s reported the result of their sortie. "Okay then," she spoke in a calm and cool tone. Turning to her escort of five guided missile destroyers she said, "My girls have encountered an Abyssal force 26° east of north about 10-20 nautical miles from our position. One cruiser, three destroyers, two cruisers. Kongō, Kirishima, launch some of your missiles to take out the enemy ships. Burke, Jones, guard our port side."

Arleigh Burke pointed her main gun to her port side and grumbled, "Darn it, don't call me Burke."

John Paul Jones had a more serious look on her face. "Should we turn back now?"

"Not yet," Stennis replied. "Not until we have confirmed that there's an Abyssal Base in Tarawa."

With a confident grin stretching from ear to ear, Kongō moved her right arm in a fist pump. "Yes!" she smiled, "I've been waiting for this! The Admiral better see me!" Stretching her arm out in the direction of the Abyssals she shouted, "Burning… LOOOOOVE!" A few missiles launched from her sides and blasted into the air with a resonating roar. Pillars of smoke trailed the missiles as they ascended into the grey sky.

"Guess it's my turn," Kirishima adjusted her glasses. "Missiles away!" She released a few of her own missiles, sending them at the Abyssals. They waited for a few seconds while the anti-ship rockets rose into the sky and fell on the Abyssal fleet. Large splashes of water could be seen in the distance, accompanied by the reverberations of explosions. Kongō's smile grew wider at the sight. "Hey Admiral! Did you see that?"

Stennis couldn't help but smile a little. Loading her crossbow with a magazine that she pulled out of her pouch, she readied herself and aimed at the horizon. "Launching second-wave attack." She pulled the trigger, launching her round into the air. From this projectile manifested three more F/A-18s. The jets flew at top speed and released missiles that aimed at the carrier. The energy shield around the Abyssal appeared when one of the missiles impacted its surface — the other rockets followed until it pierced an opening and damaged the carrier itself. The fighters continued on eastward until they saw Tarawa from afar. The island was where the massive grey pillar of cloud hovered over. Abyssal guards could be seen stationed around the island.

Guess that information was enough for Stennis. "Mission accomplished," the carrier said to herself. She adjusted her earpiece and notified HQ of the success of the mission as the fleet turned around and began to make the long journey back to their home base in Singapore.

[Mestovakia]

Back at the Singapore base, a hammock had been set up between two trees on the beach. Resting on it was the Light Cruiser Almirante Grau, one of the oldest ships in the naval base. Her brown hair was acting like a pillow for her as she read fanfiction stories on a Laptop she had brought with her.

"...The Vice flew off to attack other targets, while Orishina and Ranmaru put on their flight helmets and jumped out of the ditch and hustled over to their Sankas. "Come on, Hiragi! This is your chance for first blood here!" Ranmaru called out over his shoulder. Hiragi nodded and ran to a spare Sanka nearby, which had been reserved for him. The flight crews prepared the three planes for take-off and five minutes later, they were airborne. Small smoke columns in the distance told them the Raider had strafed a supply convoy. As they sped off in that direction, the Raider appeared out of the clouds and attacked them head on, turning to attack Ranmaru..."

"...Orishina and Hiragi turned to intercept the Vice, so the Raider attempted a loop to get behind the two chasing it. But Hiragi had anticipated this, pulled up, and pulled the trigger, sending several dozen rounds into the left wing of the aircraft, shredding it off. The crew bailed out and opened their parachutes. The three Sankas flew back to their base. After they had landed, Ranmaru pulled Hiragi into a friendly headlock. "Not bad for your first flight in Russian weather, Hiragi! You'll get along fine with us, I know it.."

Almirante finished reading the Sky Crawlers Fanfic some guy from America had posted. "Hmm, sounds like it could be a good read. Favourited." She noticed the ships from the Tarawa engagement arriving, so she got up and jumped down off the hammock, waving to them.

[Sonitusia]

As per usual, the two Indonesian ships were off on a patrol expedition. Bung Tomo and Abdul Halim Perdanakusuma, a corvette and frigate respectively, were watching the waters surrounding the Singaporean base. But one would wonder: "What were two Indonesian ships doing in Singaporean waters?"

It was simple. They weren't ships.

They were two girls, with the spirits of their namesake ships. Two helicopter fairies flew overhead, reporting movements for them as they sailed through their patrol route.

"Yaaa, gak ada apapun seperti biasanya," said Bung Tomo, her hands behind her head as she sped across the surface. Her partener didn't reply, just staring at the sky longingly. The corvetter girl sighed, and smacked the bigger girl.

"Oi, Abdul, did you hear me? There's nothing like usual," she repeated, and the frigate finally nodded in acknowledgement, rubbing her head sheepishly.

"Iya, iya, I know," the girl replied, and they continued on their way as the sound of a faint battle over the horizon was heard.

"Lucky," they both muttered.

[Wolfenium]

"つまらないな... 今日は..."¹

Lying on a beach chair overlooking the berths, a lone, tanned girl with tied, strawberry silver hair appeared nonchalant with her sunglasses and mirror, reclining as if in some private resort than a military base. Dressed in a black two piece swimsuit, the former Västergötland-class fleet girl seemed bored, burning her time simply to relax. As the incessant chatter from the other fleet girls reached her ears, she tried hard to feign ignorance and calm herself. But her patience often ran short for each distraction, and a few moments in, she was already turning up a slight frown on her face.

"So noisy..." she grumbled to herself, "can't I take a rest in peace?... I don't want to be called up for an expedition when I'm unprepared. Kids these days."

Archer, however, was doing anything but preparing for a sortie. While her fellow fleet girls were elsewhere at work or standby, she herself took the opportunity to bask in the sun. As if her tropical tan was not obvious enough, her sense of ego appeared to have grown too big for someone of her class. Submarine roles were best given to cooler heads, but Archer was proving to be a hotheaded, hotblooded girl.

---

1. Translation: "This is boring... this day..." (Literal)/"Today... is boring" (Transliteration)

[Mestovakia]

"つまらないな... 今日は..."¹

Lying on a beach chair overlooking the berths, a lone, tanned girl with tied, strawberry silver hair appeared nonchalant with her sunglasses and mirror, reclining as if in some private resort than a military base. Dressed in a black two piece swimsuit, the former Västergötland-class fleet girl seemed bored, burning her time simply to relax. As the incessant chatter from the other fleet girls reached her ears, she tried hard to feign ignorance and calm herself. But her patience often ran short for each distraction, and a few moments in, she was already turning up a slight frown on her face.

"So noisy..." she grumbled to herself, "can't I take a rest in peace?... I don't want to be called up for an expedition when I'm unprepared. Kids these days."

Archer, however, was doing anything but preparing for a sortie. While her fellow fleet girls were elsewhere at work or standby, she herself took the opportunity to bask in the sun. As if her tropical tan was not obvious enough, her sense of ego appeared to have grown too big for someone of her class. Submarine roles were best given to cooler heads, but Archer was proving to be a hotheaded, hotblooded girl.

---

1. Translation: "This is boring... this day..." (Literal)/"Today... is boring" (Transliteration)

Several footsteps echoed near the beach chairs, as Almirante arrived at the berths to greet the returning ship-girls. She was still reading; this time another fanfic, when she wa Archer reclining in a beach chair. Having not talked to anyone for a bit, Almirante decided to walk over and chat. "Hola, Senorita Archer! How's it going today?" She said, giggling as she put her laptop back into a bag she had brought with her. The light wind tugged at her legant dress, as she leaned over the back of the ebach chair to look into Archer. "Is our resident Fashionista getting a little cranky~?" She teased, giggling. She meant nothing by the teasing. She did that with everyone, who always found it humorous.

[Stormwrath]

Changi Naval Base, Singapore

There was an obvious contrast between Singapore and the Abyssal colonies that the fleet Girls had come across in their past missions. Back there, Tarawa was gloomy — probably because a squall was about to break out in the middle of the Pacific or because the Abyssals had set up shop in the Kiribati Islands. In contrast, the Lion City was vibrant and lively, just like it had been for the past seventy years. The sun shone uninterrupted in the azure sky, and the sea looked as blue as sapphire. A commercial airliner roared past the base, for it was within proximity of the International Airport. Yes, this was home for the Fleet Girls. Changi was their noisy but tranquil home.

The Naval Station, as the Fleet Girls of the Pacific Command called it, was one of many naval bases that housed mankind's weapons against the Abyssals. While Okinawa, Pearl Harbor, and Coronado were some of the most well known, it was Singapore that was one of the most vital to the effort against the aliens. It sat in a strategic location between two oceans, with the Indian Ocean to the west and the Pacific Ocean to the east. The Admiral must've been lucky to be the one assigned to the Fleet Girls based here, for he can make use of Singapore's location to his best advantage. It had all the things that the Fleet Girls needed — docks, bathhouses, dormitories/barracks, classrooms, a couple of cafes, training grounds, and the accessibility to Marina Bay. The funds were provided by the Singaporean government, since they already were swimming in billions of dollars from world trade.

The Tarawa reconnaissance force was beginning to catch sight of the base from the distance. It was good to be back, and back in time for lunch too. The six Fleet Girls made it to the docks safe and sound, although Ticonderoga may have sustained some minor damage from the Abyssals. The group could see Almirante Grau happily wave at them, and they responded with more waves. Kongō herself waved wildly and called out her nickname. "ALMEEEE!"

The American cruiser told the group that she will be going ahead to the bathhouse to heal her injuries, while Arleigh and Jones remained at the docks to catch up on some things. Kongō ran at Almirante and Archer and proceeded to glomp them by surprise. As usual, Archer was getting her tan on, being the fashionista of the Fleet Girls. Getting Almirante's attention she cried out as she dashed at her, "HEY, ALMEEEE!!!" The destroyer tackled Almirante to the ground forcefully in a burst of energy. It was as if Tarawa didn't wear her out — actually it didn't at all since they went there earlier to scout. Kirishima followed behind Kongō like a member of a cult following. "Ah," Kirishima noticed Archer lying on the beach chair, "nice to see you around here."

[Wolfenium]

"つまらないな... 今日は..."¹

Lying on a beach chair overlooking the berths, a lone, tanned girl with tied, strawberry silver hair appeared nonchalant with her sunglasses and mirror, reclining as if in some private resort than a military base. Dressed in a black two piece swimsuit, the former Västergötland-class fleet girl seemed bored, burning her time simply to relax. As the incessant chatter from the other fleet girls reached her ears, she tried hard to feign ignorance and calm herself. But her patience often ran short for each distraction, and a few moments in, she was already turning up a slight frown on her face.

"So noisy..." she grumbled to herself, "can't I take a rest in peace?... I don't want to be called up for an expedition when I'm unprepared. Kids these days."

Archer, however, was doing anything but preparing for a sortie. While her fellow fleet girls were elsewhere at work or standby, she herself took the opportunity to bask in the sun. As if her tropical tan was not obvious enough, her sense of ego appeared to have grown too big for someone of her class. Submarine roles were best given to cooler heads, but Archer was proving to be a hotheaded, hotblooded girl.

---

1. Translation: "This is boring... this day..." (Literal)/"Today... is boring" (Transliteration)

Several footsteps echoed near the beach chairs, as Almirante arrived at the berths to greet the returning ship-girls. She was still reading; this time another fanfic, when she wa Archer reclining in a beach chair. Having not talked to anyone for a bit, Almirante decided to walk over and chat. "Hola, Senorita Archer! How's it going today?" She said, giggling as she put her laptop back into a bag she had brought with her. The light wind tugged at her legant dress, as she leaned over the back of the ebach chair to look into Archer. "Is our resident Fashionista getting a little cranky~?" She teased, giggling. She meant nothing by the teasing. She did that with everyone, who always found it humorous.

Changi Naval Base, Singapore

There was an obvious contrast between Singapore and the Abyssal colonies that the fleet Girls had come across in their past missions. Back there, Tarawa was gloomy — probably because a squall was about to break out in the middle of the Pacific or because the Abyssals had set up shop in the Kiribati Islands. In contrast, the Lion City was vibrant and lively, just like it had been for the past seventy years. The sun shone uninterrupted in the azure sky, and the sea looked as blue as sapphire. A commercial airliner roared past the base, for it was within proximity of the International Airport. Yes, this was home for the Fleet Girls. Changi was their noisy but tranquil home.

The Naval Station, as the Fleet Girls of the Pacific Command called it, was one of many naval bases that housed mankind's weapons against the Abyssals. While Okinawa, Pearl Harbor, and Coronado were some of the most well known, it was Singapore that was one of the most vital to the effort against the aliens. It sat in a strategic location between two oceans, with the Indian Ocean to the west and the Pacific Ocean to the east. The Admiral must've been lucky to be the one assigned to the Fleet Girls based here, for he can make use of Singapore's location to his best advantage. It had all the things that the Fleet Girls needed — docks, bathhouses, dormitories/barracks, classrooms, a couple of cafes, training grounds, and the accessibility to Marina Bay. The funds were provided by the Singaporean government, since they already were swimming in billions of dollars from world trade.

The Tarawa reconnaissance force was beginning to catch sight of the base from the distance. It was good to be back, and back in time for lunch too. The six Fleet Girls made it to the docks safe and sound, although Ticonderoga may have sustained some minor damage from the Abyssals. The group could see Almirante Grau happily wave at them, and they responded with more waves. Kongō herself waved wildly and called out her nickname. "ALMEEEE!"

The American cruiser told the group that she will be going ahead to the bathhouse to heal her injuries, while Arleigh and Jones remained at the docks to catch up on some things. Kongō ran at Almirante and Archer and proceeded to glomp them by surprise. As usual, Archer was getting her tan on, being the fashionista of the Fleet Girls. Getting Almirante's attention she cried out as she dashed at her, "HEY, ALMEEEE!!!" The destroyer tackled Almirante to the ground forcefully in a burst of energy. It was as if Tarawa didn't wear her out — actually it didn't at all since they went there earlier to scout. Kirishima followed behind Kongō like a member of a cult following. "Ah," Kirishima noticed Archer lying on the beach chair, "nice to see you around here."

'Well, that ended quickly,' thought the sub with a scowl, lowering her sunglasses down her nose for a closer look. Shifting her glasses back up as the destroyer girls glomped Almirante, she stated coldly, "slow. And I prefer it that way. I don't know if you've heard of it, but there's such a thing called 'personal space'. I'd appreciate it if you keep a distance from me, Senõritas. You're blocking my sun."

That was a very poor lie, the sun facing the girls such that most of their shadow fell away from the snide sub girl. It sounded like a clear effort simply to chase her away, even for a simple greeting like that. Nonetheless, Archer had a thing against being within touching distance of other people. Already, she was starting to lose it in the face of the noise.

[Relikai]

Admiral Nakhimov, or Kalinin, as she preferred people to call her, stepped out of the docks, stretching her arms as she basked on the warm Singapore climate. Nothing like the frigid colds of Russia, Kalinin enjoyed her assignment to the South East Asian Naval Station, where she could continue her development and service as a Fleet Girl. Just coming out of Modernization, Kalinin checked out her new systems, a total overhaul of the old Kirov-class. The first to be remodeled, Kalinin headed to the training area, where she saw her students training hard in physical activities.

Stepping onto the water, Kalinin looked at the targets set up for her training. Carrying her heavy complement of weapons, Kalinin began her test run. Locking on several Abyssal target models, Kalinin launched a salvo of practice missiles at it, missing them by a small margin. A few adjustments later, another salvo ripped it apart, as Kalinin began to maneuver herself, balancing her new engines, radars and weapons. A Kamov helicopter took off, circling Kalinin as it concentrated in anti-submarine operations. A while later, after Kalinin successfully destroyed several more targets, she instinctively launched several anti-submarine rockets, destroying a target which tried to sneak in upon her.

Destroying all her targets with a slight smile, Kalinin finished her practice with an A score, thanking the Shipgirls who aided in her assessment. Returning her equipment, Kalinin headed to the cafeteria, ordering a huge bowl of Laksa, a delicacy of noodles, prawns, and curry. Eating alone has hardly bothered her, being the sole ship of her class in the Naval Station, and more intriguingly, her class being the only Battlecruisers in the world. Shipgirls often asked why a cruiser is eating so much, carries exceptional weaponry and firepower, yet is much softer than a battleship. They are answers not even Kalinin could answer, thus most of the time she was excluded for other cruisers who requires lesser resupply, or battleships who pack much more armour. Kalinin has her own strengths tho, her armament of missiles is unmatched in the world. Nevertheless, often having people speak behind her back, as she awaited the next time she could sortie with other Shipgirls in a Fleet.

[Shyluz]

Delhi was dressed not in her uniform, but in an apron. After all, she really just wanted to avoid the other Fleet Girls. Now, maybe her plan was flawed, working at the resupply station as a cook, but still-- it was better than the beach, where all the other Girls reside generally. Of course, that was until Kalinin arrived. Naturally, the girl had the largest of appetites and had no mention of thanks when the quivering Indian girl delivered the colossal order to her.

Of course, payback was assured. She was a chef with a specialty for spicy food, after all. And one of the dishes ordered was curry. It was white-hot, naturally. As such, the destroyer girl had been ordered by the head chef of the resupply to ask the other Fleet Girl if the meal was satisfactory. He did know that the heat Delhi put into the dishes was sometimes too much for the other girls.

And so, we arrive her. With a beet-red shaking Delhi in front of a glutton named Kalinin. "I-is the meal sa--satisfactory?" She inquired, her voice shaky and unsure of what would happen. With any luck, the spice wasn't too much. But Delhi was naturally a black cat.

[Republic of Hasgriu]

snip

Blub. Blub. Blub. A few metres behind the two Indonesian ship girls, a small metal tube with a lens slowly rose up from beneath the water surface and spun around, before stopping at the corvette. A rudimentary periscope for a certain submarine girl, Yono.

"New contact, bearing 350. Bung Tomo-class corvette Bung Tomo sighted. Yono surfacing for tactical hug attack. Long Live Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un. Out."

Yono is a very, very stealthy midget submarine girl. The petite Korean huntress was trailing Bung Tomo as part of her daily stealth training and worrying slight obsession with corvettes. The periscope used to have the (North) Korean flag attached to it at the top. It's still there, just at half mast.

She's improving.

Yono set off just after dawn following her prayers to the Great Leader, Dear Leader and Supreme Leader at her personal shrine to get a head start. Breakfast can wait until later (though the satay's pretty tasty) and eleven knots is not enough to pursue the other ship girls. Several hours of stalking later, she found her prey. Keeping right beside Bung Tomo, so as to avoid her wake, the kanmusu gradually rose up, until the time came to strike.

"Selamat Pagiiiiiiiiii!" Yono cried as she leapt onto Bung Tomo and latched onto her midsection. Something may have gone squish. Probably nothing important. "How are you all?"

[Relikai]

Kalinin looked at Delhi with a smile. Her hairband seems to be glowing a slight red, with wisps of smoke trailing out. Normally, her radars do not emit smoke, as they are never designed for such a purpose. Today however, with such a fiery hot dish, it seems that Kalinin's nuclear reactors have encountered such a pure fuel even they cannot keep up with the energy conversion process.

The first bite was nice, tasting the fresh noodles and chewing on their texture. The prawns are large and tasty, its sweetness leaving a smile on her face. The soup was next, the coconut-based soup leaving a fuzzy sensation in her mouth. Kalinin was impressed by the noodles, assuming that the Laksa is the South-East Asian version of Japanese Ramen, her favorite dish in Okinawa Base.

This dish might be too much for Kalinin to handle at first, but she knew that, to survive in her new base, she will have to adapt. No longer will the Kirov girl be a loner, not by being stingy at food at least!

"Ah..." Kalinin started, ignoring the perspiration forming by her brow. "It's really nice! I can honestly taste your fiery passion in making this, thank you for such a wonderful meal! Hmm, come to think of it, I have not seen you much around the Naval District. Most of the time I just see you in the classrooms, or working hard in the kitchen." Taking a look around at the cafeteria, Kalinin noticed that there aren't many shipgirls around. "Why don't you take a seat? It's good to take a break once in a while... and I may... get to know you better... for a start, which base did you come from?"

[Bentus]

The Singaporean air was thick and heavy, the humidity competing with the unyielding Sun for dominance over those below. The light was nearly blinding, the heat was stifling, and even the ocean promised little relief from the ridiculous temperatures. This was, of course, a highly subjective interpretation of what many others would have classed as a tropical paradise and an ideal vacation destination. There’s also the matter that, even if someone cared to disagree, the port city was unparalleled in its strategic positioning, right on the cusp of some of the busiest shipping lanes on the planet – a vital artery feeding the beating heart of human society.

Pyotr Velikiy scowled as she exited the military car, a duffel pack containing the few belongings she cared to carry, slung lightly behind her shoulder. Chewing idly on a stick of gum, the girl brushed her short brown her from her eyes, scanning her new home with a disinterested look. Already she had come to the conclusion that the fabled Singapore weather was overrated. It made her feel sluggish and tired, lazy instead of awake and vibrant. Compared to the brisk, freshening chill of home, the climate of South-East Asia may as well have been a foreign planet for the Russian fleetgirl.

Why had she agreed to the transfer in the first place? Well, she’d been ordered to move of course, so that did play a less than minor role in her decision; but Pyotra had disobeyed orders before with a squeaky-clean conscience. Was it that she felt that she could do more good from Singapore’s vital location?

A loud commotion drew Pyotra’s gaze towards the direction of the berths on the far side of the base, the actual facilities blocked by lines of buildings. The fleetgirl sighed despite herself. Reading over her new fleetmates in the dossier, Pyotra had been amazed at how many of them had little or no actual battle experience. Sure, some of them sported fancy new hardware, but that was hardly a substitute. It was the sort of situation that would have caused Pyotra to tear her sides laughing, were she not going to be stuck pulling the extra baggage herself. Yeah, the girl figured that the admiral could use all the help that he could get. Of course, that still didn’t explain why she’d willingly be the one to take the bullet and help out.

Pyotra sighed again, realising that she still probably didn’t fully grasp the situation that she’d gotten herself into, and dismayed that she didn’t really care. They could have been sending her to the deserts of the Middle East - or worse: America – and she still would have gone in a heartbeat despite her better judgment.

A slight smile broke out onto Pyotra’s face, betraying the excitement that silently bubbled just below her hull. It had taken one look at the roster of the ships stationed here to seal her fate and doom her to a tour in Singapore. Taking a brief glance at the small map of the base that she’d been provided, Pyotra orientated herself towards the cafeteria. A minor detour wouldn’t hurt, and after all, the new girl getting lost on her way to signing in was hardly an unbelievable story. Besides, Pyotra suspected that she’d find her quarry there easily enough: her sister had always been a bit of a heavy eater.

The youngest of the Kirov-sisters had been overjoyed when she’d heard that her sole remaining sibling had come out of modernisation, but stung when they hadn’t been immediately reunited. Although she’d be loath to admit it, and probably aggressive to any who’d suggest it, Pyotra had truly missed Kalinin, watching the other classes of fleetgirls with disguised envy. Silently, she had imagined what it would be like to see a pair of Kirovs once again stalking the seas, relishing the chance to have a sister of her own.

Opening the door to the cafeteria, sure enough Pyotra saw the unmistakable figure sitting behind a menacingly large bowl of noodles. The battlecruiser was talking to another girl, and Pyotra leaned against a pillar with folded arms, content to wait for her sister to notice her. There was a brief flurry of nerves: the girl didn’t know if her sibling had even been informed of her transfer. Would she find it a pleasant surprise? There was a moment of self-doubt, but Pyotra brushed it aside – there was no point dwelling on it now.

[Rupudska]

snip

Blub. Blub. Blub. A few metres behind the two Indonesian ship girls, a small metal tube with a lens slowly rose up from beneath the water surface and spun around, before stopping at the corvette. A rudimentary periscope for a certain submarine girl, Yono.

"New contact, bearing 350. Bung Tomo-class corvette Bung Tomo sighted. Yono surfacing for tactical hug attack. Long Live Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un. Out."

Yono is a very, very stealthy midget submarine girl. The petite Korean huntress was trailing Bung Tomo as part of her daily stealth training and worrying slight obsession with corvettes. The periscope used to have the (North) Korean flag attached to it at the top. It's still there, just at half mast.

She's improving.

Yono set off just after dawn following her prayers to the Great Leader, Dear Leader and Supreme Leader at her personal shrine to get a head start. Breakfast can wait until later (though the satay's pretty tasty) and eleven knots is not enough to pursue the other ship girls. Several hours of stalking later, she found her prey. Keeping right beside Bung Tomo, so as to avoid her wake, the kanmusu gradually rose up, until the time came to strike.

"Selamat Pagiiiiiiiiii!" Yono cried as she leapt onto Bung Tomo and latched onto her midsection. Something may have gone squish. Probably nothing important. "How are you all?"

Unbeknownst to Yono, she too was being followed by a submarine.

A much larger submarine.

Alabama, to be specific.

"Hmhm, the North Korean girl is up to her usual antics, it seems." Playing (and 'playing', or trying to) with the corvettes seemed to be as much of a hobby of Yono's as following the other ship girls around was a hobby of Alabama's, and for much the same reason - because they could. Bama was no Virginia class, but she was far from unstealthy, and decades ahead of the midget submarine in that department.

Sadly for Alabama, stalking people was about the only non-electronic entertainment at her disposal. She couldn't even go on sorties besides patrol, since the United States Navy had thus far refused to fork over its non-nuclear Tridents to the Kanmusu fleet, despite the painfully obvious fact that they would never be used against humans.

[Sonitusia]

"Wanjir!" Bung Tomo cried out, half-surprised and half-annoyed by the small submarine. In fact, small was an overstatement. She was tiny for a sub. They didn't call these things midgets for nothing after all. She had noticed a small blip on her sonar for some time, but had mistaken it for a fish of some sort. But then again, this girl had been doing this act routinely, apparently trying to practice her stealthiness.

Using the situation well, Abdul completely ignored the midget submarine's assault on her fellow teammate, taking the skies in full view and sighing in delight at its beauty. Bung Tomo on the other hand struggled to get the girl to let go of her boobs, but to no luck.

"Sial, biarin aja kalau gitu..." she muttered, patting the North Korean's head in play defeat. She actually enjoyed the Korean's company, as she reminded her slightly of South Korea. Only slightly.

Just get rid of the Communist thoughts and love for Kim Jong Un and she'd be a cute little submarine.

"Selamat pagi Yono, we're just finishing up on our shift," Bung Tomo finally replied, to which Abdul nodded along. Suddenly however, a helicopter fairy poked Abdul's shoulder, and she looked behind her into the watery depths.

"Tomo, we're being followed by a larger submarine than Yono now."

---

Entering the cafeteria with a spirited grace, Queen Elizabeth looked upon the current occupants with a warm smile. No, don't get this wrong, we're not talking about the Queen Elizabeth, but the ship who's name she shared. Her blonde hair was neatly styled, her uniform devoid of wrinkles of any sort. She was royal military, fashioned to become the role model of a fleet of modern vessels.

However, her smile betrayed it all. She exhibited glowing happiness, a soul filled with joy ready to spread it upon her fellow comrades. All this was well contained within her, but the supercarrier simply had to open her mouth sometimes to make others smile with her.

"Delhi, may I have some of your delicious kari?" she asked, taking a seat next to her Russian comrade, of whom had her usual portion. "Good day to you, Kalinin. Do well in practice I presume?"

[United Kingdom of Poland]

While Queen Elizabeth was making her big appearance a small girl squeaked her way into the cafeteria, just beating the closing door. She wore a standard issue USN uniform with her brown hair in a pair of pig tails. This was the USS Zumwalt, namesake of her class and the first of three. Much like the Queen Elizabeth she was suppose to be the future of naval warfare with 32 ships in total. Unfortunately technical issues, monetary concerns, and a shift in the Navies thinking meant downsized the order.

Zumwalt slide herself into a seat away from the other ship girls. She felt that the others thought of her as a failure like the humans did. She had already resigned herself to the fact that she was nothing more then an oversized fast attack boat, only useful because her stealthy design let her ambush abyssal forces in hit and run attacks. She nibbled on a protein bar, not wanting to interrupt the other girls conversation.

[Sonitusia]

Looking over, Elizabeth noticed a small destroyer had somehow sneaked past her when she had sat down, and said girl was now trying to eat a snack bar without anyone looking at her. Well, that action failed completely, as Queen Elizabeth waved towards her, calling out, "Zumwalt, why must you separate yourself? Come sit over here!"

She pulled the side beside her, smiling temptingly, not wanting to take no for an answer. 'That girl's always thinking so low of herself.' she thought to herself, slightly shaking her head without losing her expression. Queen Elizabeth herself was still lacking in combat experience when she was still a normal vessel, but she didn't want to feel at a disadvantage with anyone and worked hard to gain more and more knowledge at sea.

[Relikai]

"Oh, hi, Elizabeth. Practice has been great, thank you. I hope you are taking well to this place too?" Kalinin replied as she took another sip of curry. As Zumwalt 'zoomed' into the cafeteria, a FleetGirl caught her attention. A... familiar... FleetGirl... a... Kirov?

"PYOTRA!!!!" Kalinin screamed at the top of her voice, slamming the table which rocked the bowl of curry as she leap out of her seat. Ignoring the shocked expressions of the other patrons, Kalinin sped towards the figure leaning by the pillar at full speed. "THEY DID NOT! THEY DID NOT TELL ME THEY WERE SENDING YOU HERE!" Kalinin half screamed, half wept as she held her younger sister in a huge embrace. Normally quiet and reserved, there was only one person in all the world who could bring out this form of personality in Kalinin. If her other two sisters were to be active, perhaps it would be four.

"Pyotra! Oh goodness!" Kalinin gave her one more squeeze, before taking her hands. "Come come, I must get you acquainted to some of my friends first. Don't worry, they are nice people." Leading Pyotra to her table, Kalinin bowed to the FleetGirls as she gently led Pyotra to her side. "Queen Elizabeth, Zumwalt, and Dehli, this is my sister, Pyotr Velikiy, of the Kirov-class. Please treat her well."

[Sonitusia]

Elizabeth tilted her head forward in greeting, happy that Kalinin's sister had joined them on base. It reminded her of her sister ship that had yet to be completed, Prince of Wales. She was excited for the result that would be given, hoping that her sister would be someone enjoyable to be with. However, looking on Pyotr's face, it seemed that she still had small doubts hidden within her, most likely due to external reasons rather than something bad actually happening.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Queen Elizabeth said.

[United Kingdom of Poland]

"Are you sure you want me over there." Even as Zumwalt said this she got up and moved over to the table. She knew very from the look Elizabeth was giving her that either she would move over there on her own free will or she would be dragged over there by the carrier. She had barely sat down when Kalinin greeted her sister ship, a new arrival named Pyotr Velikiy.
"N-n-n....nice to meet you," she squeaked.

[Bentus]

Before Pyotra could respond to the ecstatic cry of her sister, the other vessel was upon her at full ramming speed. The Kirov felt herself winded as Kalinin barrelled into her, enveloping her in her vice-like embrace. “Privet, sestra.” Pyotra responded, her voice sounding forced as her lungs struggled against the external constriction. “It’s good to see you too.” The battlecruiser usually would have bristled at such a scene, but her sister was an exception. Pyotra smiled as she allowed herself to be pulled over towards the other girls.

The first one to introduce herself was the Queen Elisabeth, the neatly kept hair and perfectly clean uniform doing as much to make the woman identifiable from a mile away as her noble posture. After that was the smallest of the girls, who seemed to be putting in a titanic effort to force words from her throat. Pyotra raised an eyebrow curiously at the small craft, but didn’t mention anything in particular. The Kirov class nodded in greeting towards the Aircraft Carrier and who she suspected was Delhi, taking a seat next to her sister at the booth. Extending a hand out towards the young destroyer, Pyotra flashed the other girl a smile. “Zdrastvooyte. Didn’t expect to see a Zumwalt-class – you were all the rage back in the day.” Suddenly, the battlecruiser’s stomach growled noticeably, the insignificance of airplane food starting to make itself known.

[Stormwrath]

Docks

Kongō and Kirishima looked at their own shadows and saw that they didn't block Archer's sun at all. Hardly. "Don't worry about your personal space, Archie," Kongō began using nicknames again. She yelled boisterously, "The sun's up in the sky and the day is bright! You'll have a tan as rich as cooked meat in no time! By the way," she turned to Almirante, "Is the Admiral here?"

Almirante replied, "I saw him return from the city while I was resting on the hammock, Senorita Kongō. He's probably back in the office right now."

Yes. This is the opportunity she had been waiting for! Kongō speedily began dashing in the direction of the main building — her speed causing Almirante to get back up and dust clouds to form behind her, which would probably further ruin Archer's day. "Almee! Archie! Kirishima! I'll see you at the mess haaaaaall!" She cupped her hands to her cheeks and began to fantasize again as she ran. "Ah, Teitoku! I don't mind you touching me, but there's a time a place for everything!"

Kirishima waved at her sister. She turned to Almirante and said, "Now that I think about it, I'm hungry. Wanna come? Myōkō and Chokai are probably there already."


Admiral's Office, Main Building

It may look like the Admiral had rather simple tastes when he decorated his office. The room had a dominant color theme of dirty white and a rich variety of brown, with the velvet floor displaying a pattern of lines intersecting each other at perpendicular angles. Near the double doors was a hatstand that held his hat. Two cabinets containing his silverware collection flanked the two green armchairs form across the carpet, and picture frames hung on the other side of the room. Beside that was his liaison's desk, which had a computer on it. A ceiling fan with Southeast Asian motifs was spinning above his head lightly. Behind the simplistically modern chair that he sat on was a large window that overlooked the docks and the rest of the Naval Station. On his desk was his name tag, a little flag of Singapore next to it, his lampshade, the pen case next to that, and some paper documents on the other side of the desk. In the middle of the desk was an inbuilt touchscreen that functioned as his computer.

The Admiral wore a white uniform that was pinned with awards and tiny medals, indicating that he was a decorated naval officer. He looked rather youthful for a commander, even though he was in his mid-40's. He's a silent person, and never one to raise his voice — often times when he would speak he would appear to mutter. However, in spite of this, he was respected by his subordinates and his fellow senior naval officers around the world because of his intellect and his tactfulness. That being said, it was by no accident that he was assigned to Singapore.

His head tilted up as the double doors sounded with a knock. "Come in," he said. One of the doors opened, and a young adult woman dressed in blue entered the room. She wore a large beige sunhat that rested on her long and flowing black hair. Her skin was white as ivory. Her uniform alluded to the kind of dresses that American ladies wore back in the 30's and 40's, though the reduced skirt length was a more modern take on the classic. She also wore white thigh-high socks and blue sandals. This was Iowa, the Admiral's secretary ship and the command ship of the Pacific Fleet Girls. In her hand was a blue clipboard containing a report on the mission. Saluting before him she began, "Admiral," she spoke with a graceful tone. "I have come to give you the report of the Third Force's reconnaissance mission."

Iowa gave the clipboard to the Admiral, and he opened it and began to read the typewritten document. His eyes bounced left and right like a ping pong ball, indicating that he was a fast reader — either that or maybe he was just skimming through the document. The paper stated of the size of the Abyssal force guarding the colony, what kind of Abyssals were they, what may be their motives in the region, and other things. "I see. What are your recommendations, Iowa?"

She advised, "The Abyssal colony in Tarawa appears to have been newly established by the aliens, and it may be a while before they can complete their installations there. They are supplied by a fragile supply line coming from their forward base in the Caroline Islands, something we can cut off easily. Thus, I recommend we coordinate an attack on the base with a carrier force from our fellow Naval Station in Okinawa and two guided missile destroyer groups from our own."

The Admiral raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that would be very prudent," he replied, "since the distance from Singapore would be great, and the required fuel for this mission may be excessive. Besides that, the task of liberating Saipan from the Abyssals and using it as a forward base is still the greater matter at hand."

Before Iowa could answer, a faint noise of someone shouting the Admiral's name came from behind the double doors, growing louder and louder in an energetic and whimsical crescendo. That could mean only one thing — Kongō was on her way. Bursting through the double doors with a loud bang, she found the Admiral at last and ran towards him to glomp him. Iowa turned her head to look at the destroyer. "Burning… LOVE!!!" She leaped over his desk — dodging the battleship by a couple of inches — and tackled the Admiral and his chair to the floor, hugging him with the tightest hug that she could give. "Oh, Teitoku!" she cried fondly. "Teitokuuu!!!"

"K-Kongō," the Admiral attempted to get himself free of her bear hug. "Can't… breathe… too… tight…"

"Oh!" Kongō got off of him and helped him up. "Sorry about that." Getting the chair back up she asked, "So, did you see how I did, Admiral?"

He stretched his back and felt something tender on his left obliques. "Argh, yeah," he lied. "I believe so." Kongō jumped with joy at his reaction. "Anyways, I can't have a conversation with you currently, since I am in the middle of business, but I assure you that we both will have time to talk."

"You better promise that while crossing your heart, Admiral!" she raced out of the double doors. The Admiral couldn't help but smile. Iowa commented to him, "She's a very energetic girl, isn't she?"

"Yes," he replied. "I remember when you first arrived at the Naval Station — you were like her in a way."

This made Iowa blush a little. Clearing her throat she got back to the matter at hand. "Back on point, we could ask the Port Moresby Naval Base to accommodate our ships so they can be able to engage the Abyssals at Tarawa."

"I'm sorry, my answer is still no. We have to take back Saipan from the Abyssals before we begin to engage against other Abyssal colonies scattered throughout Oceania." Passing a dark green folder to Iowa he continued, "These are the battle plans I have outlined for the attack on the island. The rest is up to you."

Iowa received the folder and opened it, revealing a series of papers outlining how this operation was going to be carried out. "Understood," she closed it. "I shall inform the ships participating to make ready."


Mess Hall

The hall was full of Fleet Girls of all varieties and classes. It was perhaps the noisiest place in the entire Naval Station by now, as the combined sound of several Fleet Girls engaging in conversation and the sound of food entering mouths would drown out even the loudest of Kongō's quirky yells. Resupplying Fleet Girls with ages ranging from 12 to 21 would be particularly hard for the staff, since they were noisy to begin with, but they were already used to all of this.

Getting a plate full of rice and curry, Kongō found a table where Delhi, Kalinin and Pyotra were accompanying two new faces in the mess hall. Kirishima, Myōkō and Chokai were right next to them. "Oh!" she noticed the new destroyer and the new aircraft carrier in the group. "You must be the new faces here, right?"

[Shyluz]

Delhi stared at the sudden arrival of a horde of shipgirls who were sure to mock her, be it lack of experience, or her outlandish appearance compared to the rest of the Fleet Girls. Naturally, she want'd to get out of there and back into the kitchen, where she was safe. When she looked into the kitchen door, she saw the boss staring right back at her with determined eyes. Forcing her to hold her line. She turned again, beet red and with... steam? Coming out of her ears. For a different reason than Kalinin. She gave a bit of a bow towards the new shipgirl, Pyotra before grimacing and bracing herself. "I am Delhi, d-destroyer class." She said, relatively unshaky considering her body. "Please d-don't hurt me." She continued, hiding her face behind her arms.

[Sonitusia]

Queen Elizabeth visually sweat dropped, her face becoming humored when she was called a 'new face'. "Kongou, just because I haven't been sortied in battle yet doesn't mean I'm new here," she insisted, still smiling but now awkward. Still not being officially commissioned, Elizabeth felt like she was constantly being teased by the fellow fleet girls. Not to mention one reason she was still under trial was due to the incapability of the American made F-35 fairies. She'd have preferred using Harriers at least for the time being so she could set sail, but her commanders wouldn't let her go until the jets were ready.

She gestured towards Pyotra. "That's the new face I'll have you know. Now, Delhi, I absolutely must have some curry, please bring some!"

[Tracian Empire]

A little stressed and anxious, a certain Russian shipgirl was walking on the hallways of the Singapore Naval Base. K-141, better known as Kursk. Being in such a place was really strange for Kursk, who had spent most of her days, just like the ship whose spirit she had in the cold Russian naval base of Vidyaevo, and this was her first time being in a foreign naval base. Who knew what were her superiors thinking when they had sent here here, but of course, for someone in her situation, he wasn't going to complain about it.

Unfortunately, she was a little lost. And it would be clear for anyone looking at her that she was lost and a little scared. She was already attracting enough attention, with her small Russian accent, and with the black eye patch over her left eye, that was really contrasting with her long, white hair, and pale skin. Her right, red colored eye, was looking around, trying to find the way back.

Eventually though, she managed to find something that looked like a mess hall. Out of ideas, she opened the door, remaining blocked right after entering the place. It was just... so nosy, and so filled with people. Unknowing what to do, she remained quiet for a few moments, before she finally gained the courage to speak.
"E-excuse me...", the white haired Russian submarine said with a low voice, her Russian accent being clearly present, despite her attempts to speak normally."I-is.. this the mess hall?"