Enterprise saw the swarm of Zeroes converge on Task Force 58. Her pilots and AA gunners were frantic to keep the swarm of planes from her and her younger charges. It had been several hours, and her Hellcats had been around the clock landing for refueling and rearming, only to take off to retake vigil. The aggressive angels and reapers synchronized with Lexington, Hornet, Yorktown, and Essex, their own birds.
“BRACE, BRACE, BRACE!” Came a sudden call from an officer on her deck. As she turned and saw, one of the Zeroes came down like a divine wind carried it. She saw it as it collided with her forward elevator. The plane's wings were sheared off as the fuselage punched through her Douglas fir wooden deck and the metal plates into the hanger deck. She screamed in pain as the elevator took flight from the explosion.
Taylor screamed as she jolted awake, the phantom pain still there. Breathing heavily, she patted herself down. She heard her engineering chief frantically order her boilers from flank to ⅓. Looking at the clock, she saw the time was 2:34 AM and heard her dad awake and moving to the room.
“Taylor, are you ok!” He said as he barged into the room, panic evident in his eyes. His 1911 in hand, he scanned the room, looking for the intruder.
“Yes, sorry. I had a nightmare, and I just woke up from it.” Taylor said with a nervous smile.
“Ok, sorry, I heard you scream and thought someone broke in,” Danny said as he lowered the handgun. He had a gentle smile on his face as he walked over to the bed. Resting his hand on Taylor's head, he hummed a soft lullaby. Taylor soon felt the last of the adrenaline leave as she fell back into a slumber.
Taylor woke up to her new Nokia ringing. Walking over to it, she picked it up and answered.
“Hello, this is Taylor,” Taylor answered slightly nervously.
“What? Don't tell me you did not memorize your dear grandmother's number, did you?” Constitution asked with mirth. Taylor checked in with her bridge crew and got five conflicting reports telling her they did not memorize the numbers.
“No, I did not memorize the phone numbers. I forgot I even had a phone until you called. In my defense, neither my crew nor myself handled phones all that much before my awakening.” Taylor responded.
“I am not offended; I was the same way when I first got a phone. Anyway, I am coming up to your house now. I stopped for some breakfast and coffee, so you don’t have to worry about anything. See you in a few minutes, love you bye.” Constitution said as she hung up.
Taylor yawned as she put on her clothes for the day. Some blue jeans and a navy blue polo shirt were the day's uniform. This is partially because she did not have any casual going-out clothes. Walking into the bathroom, she took care of her business and brushed her teeth. Looking into the mirror, she saw bags under her bloodshot eyes. Splashing her face and drying off, she walked downstairs to find Constitution in casual wear talking to her dad in the living room.
“I knew Taylor was doing good in JROTC, but for you to want to sponsor her into Annapolis and take her out for talking.” Danny started.
“Believe it or not, her name has been on my desk for a while. Straight A’s and she is fit enough to pass Marine PFT, along with a deep understanding of US Navy history. Why if I didn’t have prior business here I would have had to fight to give my sponsorship.” Constitution said with a victorious smile.
“Alright, I guess I will leave it to you ladies. Taylor, have a good time.” Danny said as he got up and walked upstairs.
“Well you heard the man, let's get going.” Constitution said getting up and walking to the door. Following the older ship Taylor found the car Piorun drove the other day. When she got in she saw an absolute unit of a human being along with three bags of Dunkin Donuts. Looking at her grandmother questioningly, Constitution snickered. “Tiffany is our chauffeur today, Piorun is running some errands for me. She will meet us at the boardwalk later today.” Taylor nodded at that, and picked up a jelly doughnut.
“Wait, his name is Tiffany?” Taylor asked with incredulity. Resulting in the other two laughing.
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In the PRT Cafeteria
Regginald, one of the PRT strike captains got a strange text from Coil. He wasn’t sure why Coil wanted NOPI to be barred from doing an internal audit; but orders were orders. Putting the phone down he jumped into the conversation some of his squaddies started. “Look NOPI has no operational authority over the PRT. The fact that they are allowed to do this is why the Navy needs to be disbanded; because there is no other answer other than the Navy is pushing for NOPI to investigate the PRT for no reason.”
Several PRT troopers stood up behind him, clearly not liking what he said. They didn’t even get a chance to say anything as a woman swiped the phone from the table. He was stunned by the audacity as she opened the phone and looked at something. Suddenly she pulled iron and aimed it at his head. She had on a pair of slacks and a Hawaiian shirt.
“So you have 3 options. One, you can surrender to the troopers behind you. Two, you can surrender to me and my assistant for the day.” Constellation said while nodding to Piorun who also had a gun pointed to the man. “Now those are the good options. But if your hand touches iron, then I swear by my floral shirt, I will end you.”
Wisely he offered his hands to the PRT troopers in the cafeteria, never seeing Constellation smirk.
“Bait is set, now for the beast.” Constellation whispered to herself as she walked out of the cafeteria, Piorun following behind closely.
“Was it wise to let him be arrested by the PRT?” Piorun asked, clearly confused.
“Sometimes to catch a pest you need the right bait.” Constellation answered as the doors closed behind them.
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When Tiffany got to the Boardwalk and let the two shipgirls out, he drove off leaving them to enjoy the shopping center. The two walked through looking for anything that might catch their eyes. Although the man who tried to sell a Yorktown-class carrier model to Taylor was a highlight, if only because he mistook Enterprise’s blush for surprise. Towards lunch the two stopped at a sandwich place and were enjoying the malarky.
“Connie, I never want to step foot in the RIG ever again. It was unsettling and the Troopers are assholes.” Piorun said, prompting Constitution to laugh.
“Well you made it just in time, we have to get Enterprise some clothes. Uniforms are on the way, but something to wear for everyday wear.” Constitution said, then looking at Taylor she continued, “Every good officer I have met has a life outside of the Navy. While I don’t expect you to try and get married, I do want you to have more friends.” Constitution then pulled out 40 dollars and placed it on the table and made to leave the restaurant, Taylor and Piorun following shortly.
Eventually the three stopped at a little boutique that hosted a well known fashion designer. A familiar and terrifying place for Taylor
“No, I do not want to be a dress up doll today.” Taylor said with a hint of panic.
“How many other stores refuse to have PRT branded clothes?” Constitution snapped back without any heat. Taylor’s head hung in defeat as Constitution had a point. When the three walked in, Parian looked up from the toy she was making.
“Oh you are back, I just finished the outfit that Victoria commissioned for you. Something about ‘Taylor needs more clothes with a naval theme, and she might not be available to come in for measurements.’ They are waiting for you over there.” Parian said, as she closed her eyes behind her mask and tilted her head to indicate happiness. She also helpfully pointed out the outfit and its spares. Taylor did not like the look her grandmother was giving her as she pulled off the jacket.
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In a comfortable corner in Kanagawa, a little bar stood with a uniquely Western aesthetic. Mikasa was curious due to some rumors she heard about the owner of the pub. After all, an American operating a bar, despite looking like an early highschooler, is interesting. But the rumors of her beating down a dozen delinquents who thought she was an easy mark was what really drew her there.
Walking through the doors she found a small girl with a mop of red hair standing behind the bar; her head bobbing to the music playing through the jukebox that must have cost a pretty Yen.
“So are you here to sing or have a pint?” came a question from the small bartender. The silhouette that formed behind the pintsize bartender was only familiar to the battleship’s crew thanks to the trip to Baton Rouge.
