I blinked once. I blinked twice. This made much more sense than practicing with live rounds or even blanks, but still. Really? This worked?

I continued to stare, completely flabbergasted at my crew, as they loaded the paintball rounds into my hull. There were even paint load torpedos I could stock up on, even though I was told not to. No point practicing with them given how my torpedo tubes were going to be plugged up. A shame. I'd scored a kill with those things, against all odds. As I found out later, they'd been damaged when I jumped out of the plane, too, meaning I actually could do more to aim them normally.

"How exactly, do these paintball rounds handle being fired out of a canon?" I wondered around, eyes turning toward Admiral Kenneth. He honest to goodness shrugged in response. So, SMSB strikes again. It already pilfered the clothes I brought. And it better not have taken what I had at home too. The thought of losing all my shirts and pants? Parish it.

And if it had? Well, Johnson was a lunatic of the highest order, but he was right about life and what one should do with lemons. But that was, well, a problem to be solved in the future, if it ever became a problem at all.

"Hey, hey hey hey," one of my fairies, my captain started speaking. They'd loaded up on everything, and of course, prepared the new dummy rounds. I nodded, doing my best to convey my satisfaction, though I didn't respond with words. I wasn't exactly sure how I felt talking to them yet, let alone in front of other people.

Of course, I wasn't sure how I felt about them living inside me, either. Well, my feelings, one way or another, probably didn't matter. We were going to be together, after all, so being on good terms with my crew was, well, the natural thing.

"I'm completely loaded, sir," I saluted, probably incorrectly, if my father's distant snort was anything to go by.

"Very well," Admiral Kenneth nodded. "I do believe the training course would be next."

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The smell of salt filled my nose, as did the lapping of the waves in my ears. This was nice, floating in the water, relaxing.

Not being shot at or have bombs dropped on me. An absolute pleasant change of pace, though one I probably shouldn't get all that accustom to.

There was just one more preparation before I got to try out the firing range. Even if I couldn't practice with my new Bofors, my crew was still chomping at the bit to try the new five-inch guns.

"Sorry. We had to make sure this was waterproof," Admiral Kenneth handed me a headset, like one of those used by dispatchers. Because, yeah, morse code wasn't exactly the swiftest form of communication used these days. And sadly, a radio was probably only going to be coming along during the retrofit, alongside fire control and radar. Alongside the rest of the electrical systems. Whenever I was going to be getting those.

Which meant we were going to be eyeballing this. Oh well. My crew had no experience with more advanced technology anyway. And getting everyone retrained would likely be a long term endeavor. At least they could get some practice with the new five-inch batteries.

I headed out a little way. Not too far, but just far enough where I couldn't mistake whether or not Admiral Kenneth's voice come coming from the headset.

"Is everything functional, Katherine?" I heard him through the headset.

"I hear you loud and clear, sir," I responded, ignoring a slight twinge at the back of my mind. It's probably nothing.

"Good. See those targets?"

"Yes sir," I nodded, looking towards the mass of nets and targets. Some were simple floating bullseye, bobbing up and down in the water. However, more than a few of them were cut-outs of various Abyssal's. I'm pretty sure most of them weren't to scale, but regardless, that was a bit neet. Definitely would prefer hitting those over the simple bullseye.

"You can start running the course at your discretion."

"Yes sir," I paused a moment, getting all green lights across the board, making sure the paintball rounds were loaded, before making my way towards the start. Then my casement and five-inch guns cracked to life, releasing a deluge of shells in a rippling wave. Most of my shots missed, water erupting around the target like geysers, but a few hit home, covering it in variable splotches of paint.

A target further away found itself under assault from my larger batteries, the twelve and eight-inch guns releasing their salvo's. Many more geysers followed though I could still make out a massive splattering of paint towards the base.

On my left, my crew was reporting another target, point-blank range. I turned my head, just to make sure I wouldn't miss, before firing, unleashing a full blast of everything I hadn't already fired. Five, seven, and eight-inch guns fired in unison, a devastating near full broadside. Even then, I had to wince. A few shots went wide even at such proximity.

All right, so what's my next target? I scanned the area, trying to find another victim, only to notice something. Rope, ahead! Turn now!

I felt my rudder shift, beginning to pull into a turn, but it was far too late for that. Even at my nearly glacial pace, I still slammed into the numerous nets that served as the boundaries of the training course. For a moment or two, I struggled, trying to use my shipgirl strength to at least spare myself from being manually freed, but fortune was not on my side.

Well. This stunk.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

For the second time in just as many days, it was South Dakota that came to my rescue. Of course, I was thankful it was under much less dangerous circumstances. Even if this was infinitely more embarrassing.

"And up you go," she pulled me up to my feet with nearly a bit too much force, though I managed to keep my balance. Barely.

"Thank you," I smiled, silently praying to somebody that I wasn't blushing like an idiot with a crush. "Though we must stop meeting like this." South Dakota paused, before letting a chuckle.

"Of course. I won't be able to keep saving you when you get transferred after all," I had to turn part of my face away because if I hadn't been blushing before, I certainly was now. "Though I don't think I've seen someone get caught in the net before."

"It jumped out at me," it was an excuse, and a poor one at that. It hadn't worked in my previous life, and it probably wasn't going to work now.

"More like you were too focused on your guns," South Dakota paused for a moment. "Though, seeing as you don't have any fire control systems."

She clicked her tongue, almost in thought. Did fire control make firing guns that much more simple? Or maybe it was more akin to just being more efficient? Micromanaging and all that?

"Okay, we should go a lap or two," wait, what? How did she arrive at that conclusion? I mean, sure, I might be multitasking a bit too much, but I failed to see how that would solve the problem. But it wouldn't hurt to try either.

"I'll take point. And don't worry. I won't go top speed, either. I'll make sure you can keep up," South Dakota teased, as a felt a bit of heat rise off my face. I don't know if it was because I was just about as fast as a turtle stapled to a tree, but I should be able to keep up here.

Even if the younger battleship nearly had ten knots on me at the best of times. It took but a moment for me to fall into position behind her, however, before resuming firing. I was jealous watching her bean the farthest targets with unerring accuracy, while I could maybe peg it with a shot per salvo from my main batteries.

If that. Seriously, I couldn't even hit the broadside of the barn like this. And god, turning properly in such a confined area was awful! I barely made the turn, even with cutting my speed to about half.

Stolen story; please report.

"Holding up okay?" Dakota turned her head towards me, as her secondaries slathered a target in paint. I felt my crew try to pick up the pace to match her own salvo's, though they were as used to the new equipment as I was to being a ship.

"I feel slower than a turtle stapled to a tree," my mouth twitched downward, nearly forming a scowl. At least my casements were proving accurate, but that was simply due to them lacking range. They couldn't hit the farther targets. No matter how much I'd like to try. Something told me that might become a problem.

"That's certainly an interesting phrase," she chuckled, my lips twitching up slightly, as I fired my main guns again, this time pegging my target with two shots.

Damn. World of Warships made this seem way easier than it actually was. Of course, that was probably the entire point.

"Not bad," South Dakota nodded. "You're improving." Part of me grinned at the bit of praise, though another claimed it was simply because I'd gotten closer. I certainly hoped it was the former, but improving that quickly? Probably either down to closing distance or luck.

I fired another salvo, hitting another two shots. Then again, maybe not.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Sorry, but my head is killing me right now," I whined, rubbing my temples as if felt like the inside of my brain was on fire.

Thankfully, Admiral Kenneth was merciful, relieving me after my second run through the course, this time by myself, saying that he would look into it. Though I suspected he already figured out the answer.

Probably a union of me being recently awakened, and the fact I had to pull out a mental protractor every time I wanted to fire my guns. The former was probably a common issue, but the latter? Based on what I knew, I was the oldest reincarnated to date. Combined with the fact if I remained in my original body I'd be probably most of the way through my thirties, if not outright pushing into my forties.

Wow. That's a freaking scary thought. If I factored in the year I'd spent in service as Kansas? I'd be pushing into the fifties and sixties.

I shook my head, throwing off the train of thought. Yeah, no. I already felt old enough some days. No need to make myself feel positively ancient.

Still, I would give an arm and a leg for pain medicine right now. Ironic, given yesterday, but I'd already popped in some earlier in the day to no avail, so I was dealing with it the old fashion way.

Or as it's otherwise called, being too stubborn for my own good. It was either that or stick my head into a repair bath to see if that did anything, but that just sounded dumb. Plus, there were still signals making their way through my inflamed frontal cortex. Chief among them pangs from my stomach. I wanted to eat an entire cow right now, and nobody was going to stop me.

"You sure seem grumbly today," I shot Joseph a dirty look. Something was up. His posture was off. No, off wasn't exactly the wrong term.

Smug. My brother looked smug. Not exactly the most uncommon expression on him some days.

"Of course I'm hungry. I went without lunch," I shrugged, though made sure to remain on guard. He was aware of something I was not. Either that or he'd found something embarrassing. Regardless, I wasn't taking chances. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

"For once, I believe you. You look positively famished now, and that's after you nearly eat your weight at breakfast," I raised an eyebrow. Sure, I'd eaten quite a fair bit of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, but my weight? Joseph had to be exaggerating. Even if shipgirls tended to eat a lot, eating more than a hundred pounds of food in a single sitting?

That didn't seem right. That level of voracious appetite couldn't be natural.

"Though I don't think you'll have to worry about it," Joseph paused for a moment as I pushed open the door to the mess hall. I should have paused with him. Maybe it would have saved me. Perhaps not.

"Surprise!" I blinked, yes, partly because I was just that. Surprised. It looked as if every shipgirl on the base was there, with the tables set up as all you can eat buffets. Was this a party? For me?

"Now, go have fun," it was a gentle shove, which shouldn't have been anywhere near enough to move me anymore, let alone make me stumble forward through the door.

Help. Help. Help.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Admiral Kenneth smiled, despite having his face buried in paperwork. It was good to know Kathrine was likely enjoying herself right now. Most of the shipgirls had planned to have the welcome party yesterday, but due to his actions, it had been postponed.

Of course, that had just given them more time to prepare. Though he had to make sure there was no alcohol. Kathrine, was, legally, still too young to drink. Even being a shipgirl wouldn't change that.

And something told him alcohol was going to be a future problem. Maybe not with Kathrine, but certainly with her sisters. Ultimately, at this point, it was only a matter of time before the other Connecticut class battleships were summoned. And likely their summoning would be the harbinger for the arrival of other pre-Dreadnaughts. He didn't know for sure, but he wouldn't be betting against himself.

That was part of the reason he was already putting Kathrine through training. He needed to have at least some idea of her capacities, and thus, the capacity of other pre-Dreadnaughts.

Knowledge that he hoped would help keep them safe, as their operational range, one way or another, would likely be drastically different from larger and more modern battleships. Frankly, attempting to use them in such a role would be wasteful, if not outright dangerous.

Still, Kathrine had done respectably. Getting caught in the net aside, she was acclimating well.

That wasn't to say there weren't problems. As much as it pained him to admit it, the casements were one of them. While flooding was likely far less likely to be as much of an issue it'd historically been, their range was, well, lacking. He'd gone back and checked the targets. Kathrine had been adamant about concentrating her larger batteries on the farthest targets. Excluding her newer armaments and casements.

The former was explainable. The later? Likewise explainable, but for all the wrong reasons. Of course, he should have expected such. Casement gun emplacements had been phased out of ship design, and for good reason. Part of him had hoped that the oddities of shipgirls would overcome this flaw. But he supposed casements would simply have too many flaws, both in practice and design.

Still, such information would prove more than useful for those in the lab.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Thankfully, the party had died down shortly after midnight, allowing much of the base to get a decent night's rest. Eventually, however, the base did stir back to life, staying clear of the parties' aftermath to the best of their ability.

"This explains her sleeping habits when she was little," she watched her daughter snoring slightly, head resting in the crook of South Dakota's elbow. The rest of her body lay against the side of the larger battleship. Or at least, that's what she assumed her daughter's body was. It was hard to tell, seeing as several smaller girls were using two as pillows and beds. Including one with long blue hair gently slumbering away on her daughter's stomach.

Her husband nodded, likewise looking at the sleeping pile of ships with an amused expression on his face, before pulling out his phone.

Yes. There would hardly be a better opportunity to take embarrassing pictures.