*Meanwhile, on the other side of the world*

"So, the United States has summoned its first pre-dreadnought?" Naka watched Akashi as the repair ship went through with her checklist.

"More like a natural-born. Still, such as caused quite the stir. They are certainly playing her close to their chest. Though after that incident, I can't say I'd blame them for trying to keep her out of the public eye," Naka winced at Aksahi's statement. She'd seen a video of South Dakota and Washington carrying the damaged pre-dreadnought between them on stream.

"Natural born? For a ship that old? That's exciting. I wonder how the Americans taking her arrival?" Naka's legs kicked lazily was Akahi removed the stethoscope from her ears. Her being a natural-born would explain why the Americans were being cautious.

"With trepidation, it seems. Of course, I can't blame them for that, either. The star of such ships has long since fallen. To make them useful in the modern era would be, intensive, to say the least," Akashi hummed. "Last I heard, Vestal a few other repair ships had been tapped to come up with a functioning design."

"Regardless, you're clear. Though you'd better hurry. Last I checked, today's summoning ritual is in less than a half-hour," Akashi turned towards her, though Naka looked at her in confusion.

"You aren't coming?" Naka picked up her things, opening the door slightly. "I'd think Admiral Goto would want you to be there?"

"As much as I would like to, Admiral Goto and a few of the other members of the Admiralty want me brainstorming ideas as well. America isn't the only nation with pre-dreadnaughts," Akashi sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I have my concerns about the resources necessary, but I can see their reasoning. Especially given how close she is."

Mikasa. Naka knew who Akashi was talking about. The last pre-dreadnought steel hull left afloat in the entire world.

"Then I wish you the best of luck, Akashi."

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I approached the two bickering former colliers like how one would approach a tiger. Quite frankly, I was lying about how I had an idea. Well, not quite. I had a plan. Just probably not a good one.

"You're Langley, right?" I approached, towering over both ships. Vestal in her oil-stained overalls, and Langley in what looked like an old fashion teaching outfit. Both ships stopped, turning to look up at me.

"Yes, I am. And you are?" Langley's eyes narrowed, much like an annoyed teacher glared at the problem student in class.

"She's Kathrine, the reincarnation of the USS Kansas," Vestal spoke up as I nodded. Langley's gaze flicked back to Vestal for a moment, before returning to me.

"So you are," she said after a moment of gazing at me. "I'm guessing that this is what they've had you busy with, Vestal?"

"That is understandable. I wish you good luck and swifter progress."

And with that, the carrier was gone. It took a few moments for the sound of work to resume, beginnings to fill the air with a drone I hadn't noticed vanished.

"She's abrasive, isn't she," I crossed my arms, frowning slightly. She left in a hurry though. Langley certainly wasn't subtle about her jab by any stretch.

"Try not to judge her too much for it. The Admiralty doesn't want to risk the grandmother of the entire carrier force," Vestal shook her head. "She takes it pretty personally."

"Ever considered trying to get her a hobby of some kind? Help take her mind off things," I offered, shrugging my shoulders.

"Believe me. I've tried," Vestal let out a sigh. "Langley's old, and she's stubborn. Both of us are older still, so it's not like that should be a surprise."

"Still thank you for that," Vestal nodded. "She wouldn't have stayed too long, but I think she'll stop bothering me for the foreseeable future."

"Really? You just said Langley was stubborn, after all," my eyebrow raised. If she was that stubborn, she wouldn't give up that easily, right?

"Yet you're the oldest between the two of you. Trust me. This is far from the first time she's been willing to put her wants on pause for a vessel that's older than her," Vestal chuckled, a warmer smile gracing her features. "It's a seniority thing. Don't let it bother you too much. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your tour with your cousin, but I must return to my work."

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"That was something," Lucas muttered as we left. I mean, he wasn't exactly wrong. He wanted to show me around his place of work, not get involved with whatever that was. Vestal seemed pretty quick to forgive Langley though.

"Is it usually this exciting?" I turned towards Lucas, as he wiggled his hand.

"I can see why you think it's exciting, but honestly, I'm kind of used to it by this point," Lucas shrugged. "Though I'll admit, I've never seen Langley disengage quite like that before."

Yeah, that was certainly something to think about. Langley had some issues, though I certainly understood the reluctance to let her into a proper combat zone as is. But there had to be something someone could do to make her feel useful. Maybe even some type of distraction hobby? Vestal said she'd tried before, and I certainly didn't doubt her. However, there had to be something that could grab the old carrier's interests.

Maybe old movies, or shipbuilding, or something like that. Surely, Langley had to have an interest in things beyond carrier operations. Some type of simulation game, perhaps?"

Wait, was making bottled ships something shipgirls did?

"You okay?" Lucas placed his hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, I was just contemplating, is all," it was time to put a pin in my train of thought. There was time for that later.

"You're thinking of helping, aren't you?" Lucas was less asking a question, and more stating a fact.

"Hey, I'm stubborn too, you know," I chuckled, rubbing the back of my head.

"Alright then. Let's get your tour finished up, Miss Stubborn," he teased as I let out a snort of amusement.

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"This is where all the steel hulls are," Lucas waved his hand out over the docks, with numerous ships floating in the water. From a distance, they'd looked imposing. Seeing them up close? None of that had been lost. Even one of the smaller ships tied up was larger than I had been. Which was to say nothing of the largest vessels, the carriers.

"That one right there is the Lincoln," he pointed at one further down the docks. It was a towering behemoth of steel, probably weighing in at several times my own weight. That was a humbling thought if nothing else.

The more I looked at the ship, however, the more it felt like something, or someone was looking at me. Wait? Is that? Someone was standing on the edge of the flight deck?

"What the?" I muttered, squinting to see if I could make out more of its features as it'd legs hung over the flight deck, kicking back in forth. But with the angle I was standing at, all I could make out was a blur with a hat, before vanishing into thin air.

"Is there something wrong?" Lucas was mimicking my squint, hand right above his eyebrows.

"There was a person. On the flight deck," I stammered out, pointing towards where I had seen the individual moments before. "Did you not see them?" How? We were both staring right at it. How could he have missed it while I haven't?

"Some of the shipgirls mention seeing a figure from time to time. Admiralty wants sightings to be reported and logged, actually," Lucas frowned, jotting down a note, likely for later reference.

"Really? Do you have any idea why?" I honestly could probably make a few educated guesses on that front.

"Summoning. Nimitz and her sisters are close to forty years old now. Seeing as the Midway's have all been summoned, the Navy has been trying to see if we can pull any of the United States class carriers back, and barring them, the Forrestal's and Kitty Hawks. And given how we still have some of the steel hulls, the Nimitz."

Well, I was right on the money with that one. Of course, I wouldn't exactly mind more allied carrier power. But I was guessing none had shown up yet, either.

"With Lincoln, I suspect they think that more frequent appearances mean she's closer to being ready for a summoning," he frowned, looking up from his piece of paper. "Not entirely sure I agree with that logic. Given how Missouri ended up arriving, there's certainly a connection, but I'm not sure they're going up the right tree with that one."

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

A wince went through my body. I remembered that whole mess well enough. Really early in the war too, just around when shipgirls started showing up. Especially with people's concern about the Abyssal's making it into Pearl Harbor proper?

That mess was a few brave souls away from a disaster. Losing an entire state would have been a considerable blow, and likely would have given the Abyssal's yet another stronghold in the Pacific. One that could be used as an easy location to organize attacks against the West Coast.

"Okay, so I've shown you the dorms. I've shown you where I work, and I've shown you the docks. The next thing on our menu should be," he looked at my stomach as it let loose a rumble. "The mess. We should most certainly go to the mess hall."

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I had experience with mess halls back in Florida. But this? This was honestly more akin to a military-style food court than a mess hall. Destroyers scampered around human workers and sailors, who were, in turn, weaving their way around Battleships and carriers.

"Maybe we should come back when there are fewer people," Lucas frowned as I pulled out my phone from my pocket, face twisting into a slight scowl. A little past noon. Peak rush hour, I'd have to imagine. Getting food was probably going to take a bit, given the lines.

However. Well, the gurgle of my stomach was answer enough on that front. I could handle waiting in line for something to eat.

"I'll be fine," I shrugged. "I just need something to eat sooner rather than later. Should have brought something to snack on."

Okay, yeah, that might be a good idea for the future. Though I'm not entirely sure how much a simple snack would do to hold over a shipgirl appetite. It'd probably take more than an apple or two. Food for thought.

"If you say so. I'd recommend trying to arrive either an hour before or an hour after," Lucas nodded. "I mean, it's still busy. It's just not, you know, this busy."

Which was, well, fair. Expecting a base of this size to be quiet was probably a bit much. Even during nighttime hours, I'd imagine things were still busy.

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"You know," I paused for a moment, making sure I'd swallowed all my food. "Most of the time when I eat like this, people keep giving these weird looks."

"We're used to it. Sure, it's sloppy, but shipgirls do need a lot of food. So it isn't too strange seeing you inhale your food," Lucas shrugged.

"Inhale? Am I really eating that sloppy?" I frowned at the mostly eaten steak before me, alongside the nearly diminished side of mashed potatoes.

"Not you, specifically, but I've seen it happen," he gave me a look as I raised my eyebrow. "And don't think I'm joking about shipgirls inhaling their food. Because there are a few cases where I'm being literal."

"You're pulling my leg," I rolled my eyes. Shipgirl appetites were more than meme'd to death on the internet, but there was no way one could breathe in food like some type of black hole.

Lucas merely gestured with his head to the figure that was sitting behind him at the next table over. I didn't recognize her. I could tell she was a carrier. One of the Hornets? They both looked similar, in terms of uniform and hair color. The only reason I could tell she was a Hornet was due to her dapper suit.

Okay, but where was he going with this? I watched, as she tilted back a bowl, full of greens, right into her mouth. My jaw must have unhinged itself in shock if the look on Lucas's face was anything to go by.

"Did she just drink a salad?" there was no way that just happened. That had to be the grossest violation, of I don't know what. Whatever that was, it simply couldn't be the domain of physics alone.

"It's practically the Hornet special," he chuckled, shaking his head.

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Our last major stop of the day. The repair baths had been exactly what I'd expected, as was where the training ammunition was stored. Just scaled-up versions of facilities I've already seen. Still important to know, just in case.

"This is where the shipgirl related classes are," Lucas waved his hand. I could only stare at the building before me. It looked so, out of place. There was no way it should on a naval compound. Okay, maybe parts of it did. The flack guns on the roof saw to that.

"They managed to fit a multi-story school onto the grounds of a naval base. I can't even," I sighed, my hand almost reaching my face. What were they even using the multiple stories for! Just use one and be done with it!

"It's more efficient, in terms of space. Even if it's less used nowadays, we had to utilize most of the floors on this thing," Lucas looked up at the top floor of the building. "Though back then it was used more for social education, rather than training for combat operations that shipgirls didn't initially get training in."

"Like anti-air formations and anti-submarine warfare, right?" U-boat hunting certainly went back into my day. Though I didn't recall having any personal experience. Then again, I don't think battleships got in on the submarine-hunting thing, even back when.

"Correct. There is certainly more than that, though," he opened the door just enough for us to slip inside. "Though I don't think you'll be giving any prizes for which of those two you're going to focus on."

"Of course," I grinned. Anti-submarine warfare was without a doubt important and brushing up on ways to stay safe as a slow-moving target such as myself would be wise. But. I shuttered. Getting utterly trounced by planes was not an experience I cared to repeat.

"So, do you know who's in charge of the classes here?" my eye's shifted over towards Lucas.

"Well. Langley's in charge of teaching and training the carriers, though this shouldn't surprise anyone," he paused for a moment. "Relevant to you? Generally, any one of the Atlanta's is at least involved in one way or another. Either directly teaching or as an assistant. Though it's mostly San Deigo and Juneau in the latter role."

"Battleship-wise, we do have a few of the older standards involved," Lucas frowned for a moment. "Usually, it's a cycle depending on who's on base at any given time, so it's very mix and match, which I think can be said for just about all the other classes."

"And anti-submarine warfare?" I asked, looking down towards my cousin.

He paused for a moment. "I'm not sure on that one, honestly. One of the destroyers or light cruisers, I'd think. Maybe one of the destroyer escorts."

"Really?" blowing his arm gently. "That doesn't exactly inspire confidence."

"Hey, in my defense, I haven't been on this area of the base for quite a while," Lucas raised his arms in mock surrender. "Besides, I don't think there's an incredibly famous ship known for anti-submarine work. There's New York if you believe the story of her running over a submarine, but I'm not sure how much that counts."

That was a fair point. There were a few famous submarines, yes, but far less in the way of famous submarine killers.

"I think most of the classrooms are empty right now, though, so think I can show you where each of the classes is," Lucas grinned, elbowing my back.

"You can't remember some of the teachers, but you can tell me which classroom corresponds to what class. Should I be concerned about this?"

"Oh, you of little faith."

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"So, did the two of you have fun today?" Lauren smirked at her husband as he wiggled into the passenger's side, as I stretched in the back, careful not to dent the roof.

"Yeah, I think we had a good time," a yawn died in my throat, my body being content to stretch out a bit more.

"Agreed. It's good to hang out like that again. We haven't done it in forever," Lucas turned to face me, a goofy grin on his face.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have more time for that in the future," Lauren grinned. "However, the kids are currently awaiting your arrival at home. I'm sure they want to spend more time with their favorite cousin as well."

Indeed. I'd managed to get that laptop down with me for a good reason. Not exactly powerful, but it'd work for my purposes. It could handle my games, if barely. Eren would be more than willing to join me on that front.

Music began to flutter through the air as we approached the gate.

"We are Number 1!"

"She's got the mic! Floor it!"

Hey, she's pretty good at this. I wonder what she'll be singing tomorrow?