Tenryuu spoke up for Glowworm. "She's got Leipzig and Helena watching her."
Truth was, Tenryuu's own level barely cleared the low 80s—worse than Glowworm's—so she'd been barred from going out on ASW herself.
"Even with escorts, no. Escorts are still a bit flimsy."
Hikaru hadn't spent long at the Academy, but he'd studied hard; by now he had a solid feel for shipgirl roles.
If you're talking about shouldering through a thousand spears—"though ten thousand bar the way, I go"—that's the realm of battleships; even battlecruisers fall a little short.
For long-range damage, carriers are kings. (And if others had a missile DD even one-tenth as fierce as Changchun, you'd count her class too.)
Light cruisers and destroyers, though, are escorts—retainers for the knights. They can run beside a battleship cutting a path, but they're not meant to stand alone.
Even 110-level Helena and Leipzig are "too light" against a million Abyssals; once isolated and focus-fired, they'd sink. If that's true for them, Tenryuu and Glowworm—several tiers below—were nonstarters in Hikaru's mind.
After Hikaru's hard order, Tenryuu could only sit, simmering. Her glare slid to Missouri; honestly, more than fighting, she cared about cleaning up the port's discipline.
She'd never been built for frontline work anyway—her skill boosts expedition income: pure support.
But when she tried to rein things in, Missouri simply wouldn't listen.
Tenryuu went to lodge a complaint with Hikaru; Missouri used it as her cue to play cute—because back when Hikaru promised to bring her out "soon," Bismarck had swooped in and squatted on the secretary post. If Bismarck hadn't later been summoned out again, who knew how long she would've hogged the seat?
Missouri might never have seen daylight.
So she piled on the "woe-is-me," and guilty-feeling Hikaru couldn't bring himself to scold her.
Tenryuu could only stew.
A port is just a big family, and the Commander is the head of household. Ultimate authority flows from him. If he favors you, you can get away with anything.
The root of it all: a Commander's unchecked prerogative.
Tenryuu quietly rubbed her fingers together. In her head she was drafting a "Frank Memo on the Port's First Problem."
Commander, you can't keep muddling through like this. I, Tenryuu, will teach you how to be fair, open, and just—for everyone's sake.
Tenryuu and the supply ship Vestal had no objections. Moskva raised her hand.
"I can be useful in night fighting."
"No," Hikaru shot it down—then, catching the danger in Moskva's look, added quickly: "You've got that scope. Be my eyes—spotter duty."
From the corner, Tirpitz hummed, half-asleep: "You'll be my eyes, show me all the changing seasons~"
That was from a song Hikaru had once been bullied into singing. Even a drowsy hum from Tirpitz sounded better than his full-throated version.
Moskva folded her arms and sat, silent; her legs in black stockings swung under the skirt—call it a tacit yes.
Hikaru nodded and kept marking the roster.
"Twenty-three shipgirls total. With seven kept off the board for this operation, that leaves sixteen as our main force."
Bismarck came in right on cue. "We can split mains into First Line and Second Line. Within First Line, separate the shock 'vanguard' from the holding group."
Vanguard—handpicked spearhead. Very G-Faction of her; they love "chosen" language, like Prince-Electors.
Hikaru gestured. "Let's hear it."
Bismarck glanced at Prince of Wales. "Second Line: Prince of Wales, Renown, U-47, Leipzig, Helena, Fletcher, Z17—seven total. Either their levels aren't enough, or their classes are innately lighter, or—like U-47—their strike tempo is lower while personal protection is thin. They're not suited to plunging solo into an Abyssal horde."
[End of Chapter]
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