Time to patrol the high seas!

No substitute for time out on the open ocean.

They always said that back in the Academy, but now that freshly-minted Imperial Admiral Kotone Watanabe was lost in blue, she got a fresh appreciation for the majesty and temper of the sea.

She’d spent her life growing up around boats, as a card-carrying navy brat.

Turbulent waters churned beneath Intervention’s bright-red bow, buffeting her wooden deck up and down as she sliced through water like a very large, diesel-powered knife.

Seasickness or unstable footing wasn’t an issue for Watanabe; she’d clocked more than her share of time off dry land, and was familiar with how all the moving parts worked. Even if Intervention was on an entirely different scale from the small ships and tight crews of her youth.

In fact, there was no crew along for the ride on this one. Surely, the handful of reports that they were actually crewed by tiny invisible faeries couldn’t be true.

Magical power and wonder had long since faded from Autumn, ushering in an age of progress, technology, and science.

Then again, the process for constructing new ships more closely resembled sorcery than engineering, and even the greatest minds of the age could only guess as to how it all worked.

“There was no need to construct new ships anyhow, Admiral.”

As the largest vessel in the flotilla, now that they had a flotilla, it was only right that Kotone plant her flag on Intervention’s bridge. With nothing else to do out this far, Kotone turned her attention away from the viewport, towards Intervention herself.

She was met by those all-seeing, burning red eyes, framed by short-cropped white hair. While her glare was intimidating, she wasn’t much for height- though her width and displacement were obscene, especially on scale. Any physical softness she displayed, and plenty was typically on display, was countervailed by sharpness of mind, action, and purpose.

A certainty that didn’t allow anyone, especially her admiral, to object.

“I’m all you need. These destroyers will just slow us down.”

Intervention was dangerous, that much was clear. Even looking was dangerous. Kotone knew her way around boats, but not women, and the combination was distressing. Yet she couldn’t look away.

Intervention’s breasts were too massive to allow that.

Though at least she’d tossed on an actual black Imperial uniform for the occasion of a patrol. The girls remained patently obvious, forcing the material of the raincoat out so far it would have formed an overhang, if she wasn’t in fact wearing one of Kotone’s spares. The height difference afforded Intervention plenty of material, and the floppy sleeves diminished her menace slightly.

They’d get that sorted, and get in proper supplies of uniforms, uh. When they got in lots of other critical supplies that just hadn’t arrived.

It was Kotone’s fond hope that this was just a sign of her Imperial disfavor. If the frontlines weren’t getting what they needed, either, then the momentary success of their opening offensive against the democratic rabble called the Alliance was going to sputter out faster than Kotone’s attempts to talk back to her own cruiser.

“A-At least,” She offered about the four black dots on the horizon, spewing black smoke as they went, “They’ll play spotter to your sniper. Assuming we find enemies out here, you can finally test those artillery cannons on something more than target buoys.” The admiral motioned out the white-gloved hand that wasn’t holding her binoculars towards the main deck. And the pair of heavy, oversized triple-barrel navel guns resting upon them.

Topheavy in every sense, impressive.

Intervention shrugged, making things even more impressive for a moment.

“Assumption. We have no particular orders to patrol this area, because it’s so far back the rear. I would be surprised, and impressed, if the Alliance found their way back here. So impressed, I’d be tempted to let them pass.”

It wasn’t possible to tell when Intervention was kidding, because her manner was always as severe as if she was discussing the end of the world. She took the same tone for discussing the ongoing war effort, what she’d be preparing for dinner that night, or just how she planned to wring her Admiral out each night.

Right now, Kotone was thinking most about that dinner.

Intervention was, truly, a world-class maid in that regard, making MREs into actual edible food. Really, that was more witchcraft than drawing an alchemist circle of chalk on the ground, and sacrificing drums of oil and piles of cannon shells to receive a newly-minted cute ship girl.

They’d been out a while, spending precious government gasoline, and finding only lovely sights on the Meislohn coastline to snap sightseeing photographs.

Distant stormfronts rumbled and rolled through, and high waves crashed over the deck of her heavy cruiser, and her four screening elements, split into two sections.

One of whom were doing their best to ensure anyone within fifty kilometers knew they were coming.

“Miss Sunder! Excuse me, but do you have a moment to discuss things? Over.”

“It’s just ‘Sunder’, please, Fortuna. I’m not anything special… and is that a joke? We are given nothing but time out here! Until the Admiral decides we should go home. Over.”

“Ah, that is very true, Sunder. Yet this a wonderful experience! It’s our first time sailing out this far. We should treasure the memories we make here! Over.”

“That is fair, blessed sister Fortuna. We are ships, after all. This is the sole purpose we were made for, so if anything, we should be thanking our honored Admiral for it. Especially if she happens to be listening right now~ Over.”

“I agree! Over.”

Things were certainly much more lively around the base with Sunder and Fortuna running around underfoot like kids. Despite emerging, as ship girls always did, fully formed. They weren’t going to get any bigger, until upgrades and modernization came around. Both of them were still young at heart, though.

Boundless enthusiasm. For the Empire, the new world they’d been brought in to fight to control, for their Admiral, for everything.

Intervention’s complexion somehow visibly darkened at their incessant chatter.

Watanabe found it cute how much the smaller ships got on Intervention’s nerves. It got something that wasn’t a calm, rational, or logical reaction, a rare and special treat. Even if she often took out her frustrations on Watanabe for hours.

Kotone’s cheeks flushed rosy from very recent memories, and she smiled.

The other section of two destroyers were silent, aside from the occasional status checks back with command. Ace of Spades spoke for both of them, as she wasn’t mute like Jaeger was. Either by choice or disability wasn’t clear yet, but what was clear was that only the soft, pacific low tones of Ace of Spades ever came over the radio.

“Element Blue, status green. Continuing mission.”

As if inspired by the sudden outbreak of professionalism and inevitable card metaphors, Fortuna followed suit.

“Element Red, status red. Er, green. Continuing mission! Over.”

Kotone went for her bulky radio set, grinning. “Keep up the good work, girls.”

Intervention huffed in annoyance.