3244. From the FOSGF (Flag Officer Shipgirl Forces) of the Royal Canadian Navy to all allied Shipgirl Formation Commanders: Please do not permit your shipgirls to deploy to Halifax or Esquimalt just to visit Her Majesty's Canadian Shipgirls Cape Scott or Cape Breton at their Shipgirl Lounges without prior authorization from the this office AND the respective Commanders of the Canadian Fleets (CANCOMLANTFLT/CANCOMPACFLT) in question.
It was a quiet day in the Atlantic as the small German squadron of flottenmädchen with the small echelon of Japanese kanmusume accompanying them after a long Indian Ocean deployment that spilled into the South Atlantic made their way in a northern vector towards the entrance to Halifax Harbour. While there was no sign of visible damage on any of them, they look worn and tired, running on very low fuel. The lone carrier shipgirl of the group, Graf Zeppelin, did have some faery reconnaissance Bf-109s up in the sky ahead of them; while their Canadian sisters were quite diligent when it came to sweeping their sectors of the oceans clear of the Abyssals close to their primary navy stations, it was just being safe.
"How soon will we make Chebucto Head, Bismarck?" Scharnhorst asked as she tried to keep her eyes open. "I need to stop and get into a nice bath soon or I'm adrift...!"
"We're still another hour away, meine Freunde," Bismarck replied as she gazed in amusement at the fast battleship that now held her port flank. "Ja, I'm really tired as well..."
"Sempai! Scout plane!" Fubuki called out, pointing up.
Everyone looked up...then gaped on seeing a Hawker Sea Fury in modern Royal Canadian Air Force colours soar over the formation from the direction of Canada's east coast base. Soon enough, the Bf-109 that Zeppelin had put up fell in alongside the Canadian aircraft. The German carrier shipgirl perked as she tapped into the conversation between the two faeries before she called up to the force flag, "Bismarck! Magnificent is wondering what we're doing here; she sent out her plane guard flottenmädchen to intercept us ten nautical miles from Chebucto."
Bismarck grimaced. "Call Magnificent back and tell her we're very heavily down on fuel and supplies and need to get into a port to rest and relax! Apologize to her for not clearing it ahead of time with her commander, but that fight near the Azores...!"
Within a couple of hours, the formation made its way into Halifax Harbour proper, a small division of Canadians - HMC Shipgirls Saguenay, Margaree, Restigouche and Saint Croix - escorting them in. Gazing the bright, cheery-eyed reborn warships who looked about the same human age as Fubuki and her sisters, Bismarck could only smile as the idea of hitting the nearest Tim Hortons as soon as she could strip her gear off at the dockyard rolled through her mind, a touch of drool touching her lips at the idea of getting her bunkers filled up with all sorts of sinful delights at those heaven-sent coffee shops. Why the people back home in Germany hadn't allowed the wonderful Canadian franchise to expand into their country, she wouldn't understand...!
That was Saguenay, who was currently acting as SCOPA (Senior Commanding Officer Present Afloat) for the team that was escorting the Germans and the Japanese to Halifax. "But, sir! Can't you protest this to the mayor?!" the reborn steamer demanded as dark thoughts of firing a flock of Limbo mortar bombs into City Hall flashed through her operations room. "Sir! They just came from a trip that took them around half the...!"
Silence fell as she took in the message from Admiralty House, then she nodded. "Aye-aye, sir. Permission to escort our friends to the Fleet Maintenance Facility?" She blinked, then her black eyes glistened with tears. "Aye-aye, sir! Saguenay, out!"
"What is it?" Bismarck asked.
A blush crossed the raven-haired shipgirl's face; when she had been reborn in her humanoid body, Saguenay had taken very much after the image of the native warrior that formed the centre of her ship's heraldic crest, complete with tanned skin. "On behalf of the Royal Canadian Navy, I humbly and sincerely apologize for the unfortunate news I bring you, Schlachtschiffmädchen Bismarck," she then formally said as she saluted the German capital ship. "Sadly, because of an incident during the last time shipgirls of your type and size came to Halifax, all the Tim Hortons restaurants in town closed down for the week in protest to the visit!" As all the visiting shipgirls cried out in shock, Saguenay bowed her head. "I am truly sorry for this, ma'am!"
Bismarck looked as if she was back in World War Two and Hood had somehow blasted a 15 inch shell into her forward magazine at the Denmark Strait. "But...how on Earth can we enjoy the wonderful teas and coffee that are made there if they're closed...?!"
"What verdammt egoistisch fool ruined it for us?!" Scharnhorst snarled out.
Saguenay moaned. "Who else?"
That made the visitors all groan in turn. "What can we do, Saguenay?" Zeppelin demanded.
"Don't worry about that part, Your Ladyship!" Margaree called out with a cute smile, making the namesake of Germany's pioneer airship developer blush at the use of the courtesy title. "I already called ahead to the dockyard. Scotty's ready to receive you at her lounge!"
That made the other shipgirls blink. "'Lounge'...?"
With the advent of shipgirls, the massive dock facilities at Canadian Forces Base Halifax had been significantly transformed to better accommodate the influx of corvette and frigate shipgirls that formed the vast bulk of the Royal Canadian Navy these days due to the inability of regular warships when it came to dealing with the Abyssals. The main element of Fleet Maintenance Facility (Atlantic) was the Prince of Wales Building, a huge square structure with 22,000 square metres of space on Provo Wallis Street just downstream from the Angus L. MacDonald Bridge. Once they were undercover, the visiting shipgirls were allowed to strip off their weapons and other external equipment, they being hoisted into repair bays by smiling longshoremen, a mixture of regular Navy personnel, reservists and civilians.
Once they were appearing as human as they had been reborn, the troupe of shipgirls made their way through a curtained door marked SHIPGIRLS ONLY/FILLES NAVIRE SEULEMENT in the usual bilingual style of Canadian military bases. Once they were through the door, everyone then gasped as they found themselves in a strangely foggy room that made them blink for a moment. "Um...do we need radar to operate in this...?" Scharnhorst began...
...before a moan that was almost orgasmic in nature escaped the fast battleship. By then, the other visitors save the four Canadians were moaning in delight as their bodies absorbed the wonderful steam that was flowing through their armour to flood all their internal compartments with sheer bliss. "Lieber Gott!" Bismarck groaned. "What IS this...?!"
A welcoming chuckle answered her. "Don't worry about that, meine schöne Schwestern," a voice that had a weird mix of Nova Scotian and British Columbian accents caused the visiting shipgirls to all blink in confusion before they smiled as a matronly twenty-something shipgirl in a white form-fitting sleeveless bodysuit came into their field of vision. On her legs were her mixed pendant number/hull classification code ARE-101 under the modified ship's crest with Royal Crown that was used to signify FMF(A). Before the visitors could say anything more, the motherly shipgirl then reached over to gently scratch Fubuki's hair. "Watashi no utsukushii shimai-tachi," she then teased in Japanese, which made Fubuki, Mutsuki and Yūdachi all blush at such close attention. "Welcome to Fleet Maintenance Facility (Atlantic). I'm the host shipgirl of this facility, Her Majesty's Canadian Shipgirl Cape Scott. Call me Scotty; everyone does. Now, it's rare for me to host capital shipgirls like you three..." She gazed on Bismarck, Scharnhorst and Zeppelin in emphasis. "...as we only have Magnificent and Québec permanently based in Halifax, but I can give you girls emergency replenishment in a pinch. Obviously, this is quite the pinch." She then winked, her red-rimmed blue eyes twinkling as she gazed on her normal charges. "So, if I can get you girls to tow our visitors to the refurbishment docks, we'll give them the chance to allow their internal systems to replenish, then get the cooks to prepare some decent food. They all look skinnier than a submarine to me!"
"AYE-AYE, MA'AM!" the Canadian shipgirls all barked out with snappy salutes...
A week later...
"Much that I am more than grateful for you in helping our girls out when they needed a quick port stop before they returned to Wilhelmshaven, mein Freud, I have to ask this," Admiral Hartmann moaned out as he tried not to break down and weep. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD DID YOUR PEOPLE DO TO THEM?!" he then bellowed out to his counterpart in Ottawa.
The Flag Officer Shipgirl Forces in the Royal Canadian Navy, Rear Admiral Francis Drake Harlan, chuckled as he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "I'm SO sorry about this, sir...!"
"I also need to know what's going on!" Admiral Gotō moaned from Yokosuka. All the shipgirl force commanders keying into this worldwide video-conference were currently gaping in shock at their German and Japanese counterparts as they described the current state of some of the best shipgirls currently in commission. "Ever since they got back to Wilhelmshaven, Fubuki, Mutsuki and Yūdachi can't stop singing Barrett's Privateers and Farewell to Nova Scotia...and they're doing it without any accent! Naka's sulking a tsunami now because those three are allowing the videos of their singing those songs to go viral; they've taken more hits than Naka's last idol shipgirl performance did! What happened to them, Harlan-san?!"
"I'd like to know that, too!" Admiral Collingwood demanded from Scapa Flow, that comment echoed from grunts from his counterpart in Norfolk. "Given that the shipgirls of my command frequent Halifax a lot, I need to know this! What the devil are your people doing?!"
RAdm Harlan chuckled. "Well, Scotty and Bretty, as you know, are the reincarnations of HMC Ships Cape Scott and Cape Breton, our Cape-class mobile repair ships from the Cold War..."
"That's right," Gotō trilled out. "Your mystics have been able to bring back the ships launched in the 1950s; you were even able to give some of your River-class frigate girls the 'Prestonian' equipment upgrades. I hear you're aiming now to give your steamer shipgirls the DDH and IRE conversions to their kits as soon as you can bring back Bonaventure."
"Yes, sir," the Canadian affirmed. "Well, to help us maintain all the frigates and corvettes we brought back to help in convoy escort on both coasts, Scotty and Bretty developed this mist form of the repair saltwater we all use for our shipgirls to allow them to rest and recuperate from any damage. Unfortunately, because we didn't get the warning of Bismarck's task force coming in, we didn't air out FMF(A) in time to receive them."
"So?" Gotō pressed.
Harlan sighed. "We found right from the start that the mists is almost as good as any of Washington's cannabis-enhanced cooking, Admiral." Here, he gazed in amusement at his counterpart from Kitsap, home port of the reborn battleship USS Washington. "It works wonders for the Flowers because they go through so much rough treatment on the high seas like they do. Once a shipgirl gets out of the mists, it's as if she was newly launched, all equipment to builder's specs!" As the other admirals all gaped as their minds rolled through the possibilities of using such a treatment for their girls, the rear admiral in charge of the RCN's shipgirls added, "At the same time, information gets cross-loaded through the mists into each shipgirl that's exposed to the mists. Now, since it's normally Canadian shipgirls that use them..."
"Oh...!" the other admirals trilled out, many nodding in stunned understanding.
"How long will it take to wear off?" Hartmann asked.
Harlan sighed. "They were in the lounge for two days since the boys at FMF(A) wanted to make sure their gear was in top shape. Give it a month."
That made Hartmann and Gotō moan...