Dorm, Azur Lane Residential Area
July 8, 1942
7:30 AM
The Dorm was designed and furnished for the liking and comfort of the Modern Kansens. Viewed from the outside, it resembled suburban housing at first glance, though the flagpole displaying the flags of each represented country flapped in the morning breeze.
It wasn't just a Dorm, it was a house the Modern Kansens could truly call home.
In the kitchen, a large mahogany table stood, its surface gleaming in the sun rays that streamed through the windows. The table was impeccably clean, a testament to whoever had been on chore duty.
A soft humming emanated from the room. Frigate Belfast stood at the sink, washing the plates the Modern Kansens had used for breakfast. She was engrossed in the music playing on the radio.
Frigate Belfast's primary role within the Dorm was akin to a Housemaid for the Modern Kansens. She handled the cooking, cleaning, and laundry – essentially, the duties of a Maid. Her outfit and apron were not mere decorations.
After washing the dishes, she placed them in the drying rack, then spoke softly, "You don't have to wait for me here, Miss Enterprise. Go with the others, I still have some house chores to do."
Frigate Belfast addressed the waiting Enterprise-80 without turning to face her, knowing she was seated at one of the table chairs, watching her.
Enterprise-80 sat at the table, legs crossed, mug in hand, as she waited for Frigate Belfast to finish the daily chores.
"Sorry. Can't do..." she said in a playful tone. "You should be present when we greet Lafayette's return at the Port."
"Sorry, Ma'am. But my schedule for today is tight," Frigate Belfast replied as she washed the next plate.
This piqued Enterprise-80's curiosity. Her brows raised, and she asked, "Another confession today, eh?"
Frigate Belfast stopped washing and sighed, turning to face her. "Yes. Another Commander wanted to see me face-to-face for his confession."
"Hmm... let me see. How many is that now?" Enterprise-80 inquired, pondering how many of her suitors had approached her this week.
"I think he's the 6th one this week," Frigate Belfast said, unsure of the exact count.
"Damn, you've got too many suitors in a week," Enterprise-80 said with a chuckle.
Frigate Belfast crossed her arms and leaned back against the sink. "What about you? What happened to your suitors?" she asked, her tone serious.
Enterprise-80 waved it off with a smirk. "I sent Bunker Hill to deal with them."
~To Bunker Hill~
Bunker Hill-76 stood face-to-face with the Commander who was about to confess to Enterprise-80. As always, her attire and gaze were sharp, emphasized by her reading glasses.
"Umm.... Where's, Miss Enterprise? ... I thought i gave her a letter about this location---." Anxiety filled the Commander's thoughts as he had never imagined facing Bunker Hill-76.
Bunker Hill-76 spoke, cutting through the Commander's nervous rambling like cutting through bureaucratic red tape. "Miss Enterprise's schedule is tight; matters such as this will not fit into her planned schedule. As for your confession, Miss Enterprise is not interested in a relationship with anyone. She wishes to maintain her professional focus. I hope that is sufficient to satisfy your inquiry."
The Commander was left speechless by Bunker Hill-76's directness. She didn't even give him a chance to interject as she went straight to the point of her task.
"If you'll excuse me, I need to inform the next gentleman on the list. Have a good day, Commander."
She then left to go to the other location where the next Commander wanted to confess his feelings. This next Commander on the list was stunned by her; he had never encountered someone like her. She was so direct with her words, no nonsense, just straight to the point of rejection.
(Imagine Laffey-200 is the one being sent by Enterprise to these Commanders' confessions. What do you think will happen?)
~Back at Kitchen~
Frigate Belfast held her temple and groaned. She hadn't expected Bunker Hill-76 to be the one dumping those Commanders like trash.
"You could have just gone and faced them and told them why you aren't interested," she said, a bit disappointed by the brutal rejections.
"I am not going to some part of this Base to listen to a Commander's confession. I have to move from place to place for meetings and making plans for upcoming operations. Love is a luxury for the rest, not mine."
Frigate Belfast responded dryly, "Right...."
Time passed between the two, briefly disturbed by the alarm on the wall clock. It was 8:00 AM, the exact time of Lafayette's arrival.
"You should head out now, Miss Enterprise; there are things I need to do," Frigate Belfast said as she resumed washing the dishes.
Enterprise-80 sighed, unable to persuade her. "Alright, I'm heading out now. Let's just meet at the Office."
She stood from her seat, leaving the empty coffee mug on the table. She walked towards the living room, her heels clicking on the wooden floor – then she stopped. "We're still waiting for you at the Harbor."
"Understood," was the only word Frigate Belfast said. Enterprise-80 then fully left the Dorm, the door clicking shut behind her.
At the Harbor
William, JS Maya, Lucas, and Arizona arrived at the Harbor just as the returning ships were coming into view. They each held something to welcome the returning Frigate. William simply held a small French flag. JS Maya had a party popper tucked beneath the sleeve of her kimono.
Lucas, meanwhile, held his own canvas, upon which was written: Welcome Back Lafayette.
"Wow...." Arizona said dryly. "You actually made an effort with that?"
Lucas had a smirk on his face. "I could have made it better, but... some of the words needed to be left out because of certain suggestions."
"Ahem." JS Maya gave a faint cough. "I do believe we need to tone down your banter with Lafayette. Your words often border on provoking for the young Lafayette," she said in a low, soft undertone.
"When did you suddenly become her sister? That's my job as the older sibling to 'take care' of him," Lucas said with his typical dry humor.
JS Maya shot him a glare.
Arizona shook his head. "You two at it again. You two are like Tom and Jerry, and Maya is Spike (the Dog)."
"Hit the point," William said, registering the humor.
"What's with the French flag, old-man?" Lucas asked William about the flag he held in his other hand.
William chuckled, as if it were a funniest thing he could thought of. "Just wanted to remind him of his roots."
"And the French flag is the first thing you thought of?" Both Lucas and Arizona said in unison, their dry undertones perfectly synchronized.
"Guess it's better than nothing, right?" JS Maya chimed in.
As the conversation continued, an H2 Kawasaki Ninja screeched into view, leaving a trail of burnt rubber on the concrete ground.
Enterprise-80 dismounted her bike and walked towards them, her Navy jacket-like coat flapping in the wind – making her presence known and charismatic.
"How's everything?" she casually asked, her usual approachable demeanor in place.
"Tidy," William replied.
"Good... we just need to wait for Bunker Hill and Essex to arrive in time," she said, momentarily glancing at the gate.
"OH," JS Maya quickly remembered. "Here's your own popper, ma'am," she said, offering another party popper.
"Thanks." Enterprise-80 took it, examining the casual popper. It felt lighter than the ones she usually held of the same size.
"That's the only popper I could buy at Akashi's Shop that didn't use explosive powder for the casual popping," JS Maya said with a bow, a bit embarrassed by the purchase.
"Well, it's better than nothing," Enterprise-80 said, then shifted her attention to the men.
William remained nonchalant, Lucas lowered his head, scratching the back of his neck, and Arizona simply stayed quiet, trying to blend in innocently.
Just then, another screech of tires sounded. This time it was a JLTV with a mounted CROW on top – skidding to a halt on the concrete floor of the Harbor. Two women disembarked from the JLTV.
Bunker Hill-76, in her typical navy blue dress and coat, walked in as if she had just come from the most boring meeting in the world. Following her was Essex-12 in her Service Uniform.
"Sorry we're late," Essex-12's boisterous voice boomed. "Miss Ice Queen here left every Commander weeping."
Bunker Hill-76 momentarily frowned at the mention of that, clearly not wanting to discuss it, as if it were a stack of paper files being fed to a shredder.
"Damn, this early in the morning?" Lucas muttered in surprise.
"She's like a hot assassin with a pistol silencer, efficient and deadly at dealing things with precision," Arizona said.
"You're goddamn right," William said, channeling his inner Walter White.
"Great, just in time," Enterprise-80 said in greeting.
"Here's yours," JS Maya offered another popper to Bunker Hill-76, who took it without a word or question.
"Hey, what about me?" Essex-12 asked for a popper, gesturing visibly with her hands.
JS Maya concealed the rest within her kimono sleeve. "I think let's go with safety first."
"Come on, Maya, I'm old enough to hold a gun, what harm could a popper possibly do?" Essex-12 pressed.
JS Maya glanced sideways. "A lot."
...
At the Harbor Dock
FFG-65 USS Lafayette was slowly guided by Harbor Tugs towards the docking pier. Following standard procedure, Port Manjuus expertly secured the mooring ropes to the bollards, and the gangway was carefully positioned for the disembarking personnel.
As soon as Lafayette and Friends accompanied him stepped onto the solid concrete of the Harbor, he was met with a burst of popping confetti and a round of warm applause. He was pleasantly surprised that no immediate playful banter came from Lucas.
"Welcome home," their voices echoed in unison.
"Welcome back, kiddo," Lucas said, holding up his hand-painted canvas.
He was genuinely touched by the welcoming party. He hadn't expected them to put in so much effort for his return. No tears were shed, only a warm smile graced his face and filled his heart.
"Thanks, guys. I didn't know you'd put in so much effort," he said, a little embarrassed by the attention.
Right next to the group of Modern Kansens, Royal Navy Shipgirls bearing an air of royalty awaited their own returning comrade. Unicorn was held in a tight embrace by a visibly worried Illustrious. Unicorn had sustained injuries during her convoy escort duty in the Mediterranean Sea, a mission that had also involved Lafayette's abduction by Iron Blood forces.
"Oh, Unicorn, I was so worried about you after I received the news," Illustrious said, tears welling up and falling down her cheeks.
"I'm fine, Big Sis Illustrious. It was just my carelessness," Unicorn said in her typically soft and innocent voice.
"No, no. It was my fault," Illustrious said, slightly loosening her embrace to look at her.
Unicorn chuckled softly. "I'm big enough now, Unicorn can handle her own," Unicorn said, meeting Illustrious' gaze with a reassuring smile.
While these two Shipgirls shared a heartwarming reunion, another pair was locked in a moment of palpable awkwardness. Utterly awkward for both of them.
"Odd," Arizona began, his voice a low rumble. "It's only been two days since that night, yet here I am face to face with you."
"I could say the same, but I'm only here as Lady Illustrious' escort to pick up Miss Unicorn at the Harbor." Sheffield turned her head slightly, her eyes the only part of her that moved to acknowledge him.
"I didn't expect you would be here too. I would have assumed you were on some operation."
"Cold," Arizona commented, also offering a brief side glance. "I guess we both didn't anticipate this unexpected encounter."
"Agreed," Sheffield said, her voice monotone and devoid of emotion.
At the Next Generation Aegis Destroyer, Laffey-200 casually strolled down the gangway, crates of various alcoholic beverages in hand. Like a Boozy Santa Claus, she distributed a bottle to everyone present, eliciting the usual surprised reactions. Eyebrows were raised in collective shock.
"It's only July, yet I have a Christmas present," William said, examining the brand and quality of the bottle in his hand with a discerning eyes.
He glanced at Laffey-200 with a knowing look. "Please tell me it's not... loot."
Bremerton, Baltimore and the other Cruisers that were in her Fleet move their eyes sideways as if avoiding that certain topic.
"Not loot, but floating treasures," Laffey-200 said nonchalantly, completely unconcerned by the implications.
"Treasure?" everyone bellowed in unison.
"A floating treasure waited to be claimed, and I simply seized the opportunity. Such treasure would have been a waste left unattended."
A collective groan echoed across the Harbor at Laffey-200's unorthodox method of acquiring free, untaxed alcohol. Laffey-200 had apparently conducted a "Strategic Transfer of Equipment to an Alternate Location" involving unattended floating alcohol.
But, hey. Free alcohol is free alcohol.
...
AKASHI SHOP
Lafayette and Friends browsed the merchandised shelves, intending to purchase some daily necessities. Or perhaps just food.
Today marked their well-deserved day off. No duties, just the simple pleasure of relaxing after their return to their homeport. And with their recently acquired hefty salaries and bonuses, there were certainly more enticing ways to spend their earnings on shopping, but not in this particular shop with its... unique pricing strategy.
At the shop, Lafayette found himself in the mug section, where various designs were on display. He picked up two distinct mugs, his expression rather neutral as he examined them.
In his right hand, he held a mug emblazoned with the American Flag. In his left, a mug shaped like an oil barrel with the word "OIL" printed boldly across it.
"Why the design is so... specific," Lafayette uttered, his tone flat and slightly weary.
Just then, the store owner spoke, a hint of menace underlying her tone. "Do you find anything interesting? Nya..."
Lafayette turned towards the counter. There stood a green cat with dollar signs practically bulging from her two eyes.
Lafayette could practically feel his wallet shrinking under Akashi's avaricious gaze.
Akashi was their go-to, anonymous seller for items they couldn't obtain through regular channels, especially anything deemed illicit by the Eagle Union Government. She was their "One Stop Shop," and many Commanders and Officers counted themselves among her best customers.
One also had to be vigilant to keep their wallet safe from her grasping paws.
"How much for these?" Laffey-459 asked, holding up a mug adorned with a bunny design.
Akashi rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "That would be $15 each."
Lafayette furrowed his brow at the exorbitant price. He was well aware of Akashi's reputation for inflated customer service costs, but come on, $15 for each mug?
"Eh! That much?!" Javelin exclaimed, equally taken aback by the pricing.
"I could buy a better mug back on the mainland!" Hamman's voice boomed from another aisle, holding up a plain white mug.
Akashi's sharp gaze snapped towards Hamman. "Hey! If you crack that, the price doubles, nya!"
The two cats then engaged in a silent hissing match, their disagreement centered on the outrageous price of what looked like a dollar-store mug. It wasn't outright violence, just feline disapproval.
"Are you trying to rub us, Akashi?" Lafayette asked, stepping between the two disgruntled customers and the avaricious shopkeeper.
"Nyo! Akashi is not planning to rub your wallet... but might consider it!" Akashi retorted her finger pointed at his nose, though they were clearly not that surprise. "Akashi merely seeks to recoup some revenue lost from that shipment of booze that went down with the convoy when it was suddenly attacked by a Siren. Don't blame Akashi, blame the nasty Siren for the lost profits, nya!"
Lafayette and Friends exchanged bland looks. They too had witnessed that ill-fated convoy and the cargo ship carrying Akashi's precious shipment descend beneath the waves, not to mention Laffey-200's completely unregulated "Strategic Transfer" of the floating beverages. None of the Merchant Ship's crew, nor the Captain himself, had dared to impede her collection of the buoyant bounty.
"I only have $5," Laffey-459's soft and low voice cut through the awkward silence that had fallen. "Take it... or leave it."
"This is not an auction; it's my store, nya!" Akashi's voice boomed indignantly.
"Akashi... your pricing is off the roof! Can you at least lower it down a bit?" Lafayette suggested, trying to reason with the greedy green cat.
"Oh..." Akashi rested her chin on her clasped hands (though they were mostly hidden within the sleeves of her dress), and let out a low, purr. "Miss Enterprise did grant you a little bonus upon your recent return – and your shiny new title, nya~."
Her gaze flickered pointedly at the medal pin proudly displayed on his left chest, the very medal he had received along with the esteemed title of "Dragon Slayer" for his valiant efforts in besting Regensburg.
"Now... what say you, nya?" Akashi pressed, her tone suggesting the price was directly proportional to his newfound honor.
"Fine," Lafayette sighed, recognizing the futility of further negotiation. "I'll pay the rest," he offered, reaching for his wallet.
"Great doing business with you dear customers, nya..." Akashi swiftly snatched the Benjamins from Lafayette's hand and quickly deposited them into the cash drawer, her dollar-sign eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
...
Howe's Cookie Shop
Both Arizona and Lucas stood side-by-side, hands clasped behind their backs, feet precisely shoulder-width apart, their posture rigidly stern. The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall echoed in their minds like the countdown to an inevitable explosion. Their gazes were locked onto the entrance's glass door, each passing moment stretching into an eternity as they awaited the arrival of a customer.
"So," Arizona began, his voice a low drawl. "This is your job. Standing at attention, waiting in drill for some poor soul to wander in. We might as well have signed up as actual security guards if all we're doing is watching the entrance."
"No need for that," Lucas replied, maintaining his impeccable posture. "We're inside a Naval Base facility, and practically everyone here is a Shipgirl with enough combat experience to handle themselves."
"Figures," Arizona slowly nodded his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "What about the Naughty Commanders?"
A wide grin spread across Lucas's face, and he raised a mock fist to chin level. "You know what's coming?" Arizona smirked back, and the two shared a quick, silent fist bump.
After their brief, unspoken acknowledgment, Lucas asked, a playful curiosity in his tone, "So, what's your preferred alias this time?"
Arizona dramatically slicked back his hair, then slowly and deliberately announced his undercover name. "Aizen."
Lucas stared at him, his expression conveying utter disbelief at the sheer obviousness of the choice, given Arizona's distinctive jawline and hairstyle. "You have got to be fucking kidding me, right?"
Enterprise-80, ever mindful of keeping the Submarine's true identity concealed, had allowed Arizona to choose a name that didn't directly echo his previous alias as a Royal Navy Officer (Cmdr. Anders). While still technically "in disguise," his current role was simply that of an employee at Howe's Cookie Shop.
"Nope, better to use it as proper undercover," Arizona said with a wide, confident grin.
"Aizen? The villain guy from anime? Are you even onto something to even try that name?" Lucas asked, his voice laced with exasperation.
Lucas then corrected. "Aizen, the Cookie Shop Employee," he chuckles at his own ridiculousness.
"I think that's a good start," Arizona conceded, silently agreeing with the unexpected, if absurd, joke Lucas had pulled out of thin air.
"Yeah sure – I'll be Toco Lucas then." Lucas said in a chuckle.
...
Sardegna Empire – Grand Council Chamber
Two Days Earlier
The grand chamber, steeped in Renaissance architecture, exuded power and legacy. Marble pillars soared into domed ceilings etched with faded frescoes of past glories. This was once the hall where the great Sardegnan leaders coordinated wars of conquest and defense. Now, it echoed with fury rather than strategy.
Mussolini's voice reverberated with unrestrained anger at the disastrous outcome. Regensburg had been captured and was now in the custody of the Royal Navy. Two of their Battleship Shipgirls, under the command of Cmdr. Marco, had been forced to retreat from the engagement to prioritize the rescue of a downed Troop Transport Ship. And Roma was injured, her Battleship's magazine having suffered damage akin to an onboard pizza oven explosion.
It was a catastrophe. Their reputation had once again been tarnished by a mere Frigate, and with what Mussolini could only describe as the power of friendship and ludicrous plot armor, his forces had retreated like stubborn mules. Mussolini already had a hundred and one problems, and now he had to explain to Bismarck why a French kid and two British had served him defeat right in his pasta.
"Can the three of you explain precisely why we failed to accomplish one simple task, and now everything is collapsing around us like a damn domino run?" Mussolini's voice was dangerously low.
Cmdr. Marco clutched his cap tightly, his lips pressed into a thin, tense line. Littorio wore a grim expression, the severity of the situation exactly as she had anticipated. Roma, despite her injury, stood defiantly alongside the two, her right arm supported by a sling.
"Well, we were engaged in a long-range attack," Cmdr. Marco began, his breath catching slightly with the palpable tension in the room, "and our communications were suddenly and completely jammed. It was a total surprise, even though we believed ourselves to be prepared for any eventuality."
Littorio then added her own report, her voice somber. "Duke of York and Valiant also engaged us at a range far exceeding our own targeting capabilities. Retaliation was futile as they maintained their mobility while relentlessly raining shells upon us. I strongly believe it was the Modern Kansens who guided those attacks. No rangefinder currently in existence could possibly achieve such pinpoint accuracy at that distance. The impact deviations were within three to four meters of the center of mass. That level of precision at such an extreme range is unprecedented for conventional artillery fire."
Mussolini sank deeper into his ornate seat upon hearing this damning report. Not only had he suffered a humiliating defeat, but he had also been outranged and outgunned by technology he couldn't even comprehend.
"But we did find one key weakness." Breaking the heavy silence that had fallen over the room, punctuated only by Mussolini's barely audible whimpering, Cmdr. Marco's voice cut through with a crisp undertone.
Mussolini snapped his head up, his gaze locking onto the Commander. Cmdr. Marco continued, "We knew that the Modern Kansens were powerful; that much is undeniable. But, we observed that the Frigate was hesitant to use excessive force, at least against what he perceived as the rest of us – that might very well be the reason why he was initially captured by Iron Blood."
"And how does that relate to their weaknesses?" Mussolini asked, his voice a low, guttural growl.
Cmdr. Marco resumed his explanation. "Based on the reports detailing the attack on the Sakura Empire's Capital, the assault was primarily focused on military installations. This suggests that the Modern Kansens are hesitant to target civilians or conduct massive, indiscriminate strikes. Applying that observation to the Frigate's actions, his attack focused on the Troop Transport and neutralizing Iron Blood aerial assets. The Frigate could have easily rained down a barrage of 'Guided Rockets' upon us, but he didn't."
"You mean that mere Frigate... pitied us!" Mussolini's voice rose in incredulous anger.
"No, I saw the Kid's face, and we shared a brief moment of mutual assessment. I am reasonably certain that that kid didn't want this war to escalate further into our homelands."
Mussolini groaned, burying his face in his hands. "A mere Frigate had pity on us. What will the other Kansens think of us if we show such weakness?" he murmured, his voice laced with shame and frustration.
"We must use this information to our advantage as best we can. Conceal the fact that we were bested by a Frigate; instead, attribute our setback to some of the Modern Kansens in general. Their soft hearts are surely a key weakness. If they truly wished for our capitulation, they would have needed to drop a miniature sun on us at this point."
"Wouldn't that be a slight exaggeration?" Littorio interjected, her brow furrowed. "Yes, we can attempt to suppress information leaks, but we cannot be certain about the others' mentality. I observed the Frigate as well; he was just a child, but the others might not adhere to the same principles."
"Then we must avoid the others based on the meager reports we possess, and especially... that one," Mussolini said, a shiver running down his spine.
"The Höllenhound," the trio said in unison, their voices echoing the chilling moniker.
"Yes, recent Iron Blood intelligence reports indicate that Azur Lane dispatched one of its Modern Kansens to hunt down their spies within mainland Eagle Union."
Apparently, Laffey-200 had been deployed to Eagle Union as a form of highly effective pest control, systematically tracking down Iron Blood Agents with precise and controlled aggression. The spies had likely expected a SWAT Team to knock on their door; too bad for them... their unwelcome guest arrived through the ceiling, the Death Bunny herself, dual Desert Eagles blazing with terrifying American Freedom efficiency.
Mussolini shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced at an aide standing silently to the side. "What is the status of our PR Ship Research and Development?"
Count de Cavour smoothly flipped a page of her report. "Yes, Duce. Our PR Ship Development is proceeding according to schedule and timeline. Within the next month, we should have them operational on the waters."
This news slightly eased the tension in the room, but the unsettling thoughts of the Modern Kansens' unknown capabilities still lingered. Would the numbers of their Prototype (PR) Ships and existing capital ships be sufficient against such unpredictable foes, or would they simply become new targets for weaponry they couldn't even fathom?
Mussolini and the Sardegnan officials desperately hoped their PR Ships would tip the scales of power back in their favor. They were fighting to defend their own homeland, which should have provided a significant advantage. Furthermore, their proximity to Iron Blood ensured that reinforcements would likely arrive soon. The clandestine links between the two nations – hidden roads, bridges, and railways – had been secretly constructed precisely for the purpose of rapidly deploying reinforcements to the Sardegnan Front if needed.
Mussolini clung to these hopes, along with the persistent words of Vittorio emphasizing the urgent need to tighten the Empire's security. Now, the boot-shaped nation was metaphorically sprouting spikes at every end, as if bracing itself for a brutal, unavoidable combat.
Taranto Harbor
Friedrich, Ulrich, and the other Iron Blood Shipgirls stood observing the extensive damage to Battleship Roma, which sat heavily in the Dock. The Battleship had sustained a significant hit to its forwardmost second main turret. Miraculously, the resulting fire and explosion hadn't triggered a catastrophic ammunition cook-off, a fate that had befallen other ships. The turret's barbette armor had held, preventing the devastating chain reaction.
Agir let out a low whistle. "That was sheer luck. That hit could have split the ship in two."
"That shot came from Duke of York, guided by that Frigate," Ulrich stated, her tone reflecting her understanding of the tactical situation.
"Hmm..." Friedrich mused, a thoughtful smirk playing on her lips as she held her chin. "It seems we significantly underestimated that little Frigate we initially perceived as insignificant."
Mainz remained silent, her gaze fixed on the damage inflicted upon the heavily armored Battleship. She replayed their encounter in her mind, recalling his hesitation to retaliate with full force, even when he had opportunities to turn the tide against them.
Her attention then shifted to the charred remains of Elbe and Weiser, both Carriers whose flight decks were scorched beyond use by one of the increasingly familiar weapons: the guided rocket, or guided missile, as the Modern Kansens called it.
"Though he certainly didn't hold back after that initial encounter with us," Friedrich commented, her gaze lingering on the crippled Carriers.
"And he decisively defeated Regensburg. Now he bears the title of 'Dragon Slayer,' awarded by the King of the Royal Navy himself," Agir added, a hint of teasing in her voice.
"We had better be more careful next time," Mainz finally said, breaking her prolonged silence.
All heads turned towards her, the other Iron Blood Shipgirls waiting to hear her considered thoughts.
"We underestimated him due to his youthful appearance... Elbe, Weiser, and Regensburg paid the price for that carelessness. If we don't want to end up like those three, or Odin who has already fallen, we must proceed with extreme caution when facing any of them. It would be wise for us to adjust our assumptions," Mainz stated firmly.
"Mainz is right," Friedrich conceded, her expression serious. "We underestimated him, and our premature celebration has landed us here... at the Dock."
Their gazes then drifted to the other side of the Harbor, where several of their ships sat listing precariously, their keels broken from a devastating torpedo attack launched by one of the Modern Submarines. The Mediterranean Sea was proving to be increasingly perilous for Crimson Axis Shipgirls operating without dedicated ASW escorts.
The sight of their battered fleet served as a stark reminder of their hubris in attempting to abduct a Modern Kansen, especially the seemingly vulnerable Frigate. In the end, they had been met with a torpedo attack that bypassed all expectations, eliminating them from the equation swiftly and decisively.
The perceived Torpedo Attack should have targeted the sides of their ships, where their Torpedo Defense Systems (TDS) were located. However, this particular torpedo had seemingly ignored these defenses, striking directly at their keels from below. No Conventional Homing Torpedo behaved in such a manner, and its potency was so extreme that the initial explosions had violently thrown their warships out of the water.
"Kommandant Erica is investigating that incident. I'm sure she'll have solid evidence regarding the type of torpedo that hit us and will develop countermeasures against it," Agir said, a note of hope in her voice.
At the Dock, where the Iron Blood Ships sat
Kommandant Erica and several Iron Blood Scientists were meticulously examining the damage, even as repair work on the crippled ships continued around them.
"I am utterly perplexed as to why the TDS remains untouched, yet the Keels are twisted like mere paper," one of the scientists muttered, running a gloved hand over the mangled steel.
The Engineer beside him spoke with equal confusion. "The same here. Homing Torpedoes use sound or magnetic signatures to find their targets, but this... this precisely targeted the bottom keel as if it were specifically aiming for it. No weapon in our current arsenal can one-shot an armored warship and render it as useless as these."
Kommandant Erica pinched the bridge of her nose, her frustration evident. "I called you two here to provide clues as to the why and the how, not the what."
"Apologies, Kommandant, but we are as clueless as you are," the Scientist admitted.
"Forgive us, Kommandant, but we lack any detailed knowledge about this weapon. We are limited by our understanding of our own armaments. The Modern Kansens' technology is simply off the charts. Our wonder weapons are like children's toys compared to theirs."
Kommandant Erica sighed expressively, the sound heavy with concern. "Ahhh.... We had better make sense of this quickly so that I can formulate effective tactics and countermeasures. We can no longer sail the ocean willy-nilly!"
The two scientists exchanged nervous glances as they watched Kommandant Erica momentarily lose her composure, her frustration bubbling to the surface in a silent, contained tantrum.
"I think she's losing it," the Scientist whispered, his voice barely audible above the sounds of ongoing repairs.
"Ja," the Engineer murmured in agreement, equally uneasy.
Kommandant Erica took a deep breath, visibly forcing herself to regain control after her brief outburst. "Gentlemen... I require detailed reports about the Guidance System employed by that Torpedo." She paused, her gaze sharp as she turned to face the two men. "I want those reports by the end of the week, before these ships are refloated."
The two scientists stared at her in utter disbelief. While they possessed extensive knowledge of Iron Blood Technology, Weapon Guidance Systems, and even the Intricacies of a Simple Vegetable Peeler, they were now being tasked with reverse-engineering a technology they barely understood – or that might not even exist within their current comprehension. It was akin to playing a guessing game with concepts far beyond their grasp.
"Jawohl," the two acknowledged reluctantly, the weight of the impossible task settling upon them.
Kommandant Erica's demeanor darkened, shadows seeming to deepen around her eyes. A grim smile stretched across her face as she clenched her fist, a silent vow escaping her lips. "Soon... I will have that Submarine captured. I swear it."
She silently declared her ambitious plan: the capture of America's Next Generation Submarine that stealthily patrolled the depths of the Mediterranean, preying on Crimson Axis shipping.
Capturing the apex predator of America's Silent Service, a vessel that cloaked itself in the darkness of the deep and was a natural hunter of the abyss, would require far more resources and ingenuity than what she currently had at her disposal.