The massive shadow of the battleship Georgia loomed over the harbor as she eased into her berth at Pearl, her sleek frame pristine despite the recent battle. The sun had barely crested the horizon, casting golden light across the water, but the base was already buzzing. Word had spread fast—Georgia was back, and she’d brought trophies.

  The docks were lined with stunned onlookers—sailors, officers, repair crews—all staring in disbelief as the battered remnants of the Sakura Empire's Wake Isnd force were marched down her gangway. Dozens of captured sailors, officers, and even a few shipgirls walked silently under guard, heads down, expressions unreadable.

  Georgia stood at the top of the gangpnk, arms crossed, a storm brewing in her eyes.

  “Wake secured. Captives accounted for. Minimal casualties,” she said ftly as a group of brass finally emerged to greet her. Her voice carried across the pier with the authority of a war goddess—unyielding, unimpressed.

  One of the older admirals—Georgia recognized him as Admiral Kinley, one of the dinosaurs who hadn’t believed the siren threat was real—stepped forward, his face twisted in a half-frown, half-smile. “Battleship Georgia. A… surprising outcome. You acted outside operational protocol.”

  Georgia raised an eyebrow. “And you nearly let the Pacific burn because you were too busy covering your own ass to listen to intelligence reports.”

  A few gasps came from the junior officers nearby. Kinley’s face flushed a deep crimson, but Georgia wasn’t finished.

  “I didn’t wait for your permission because I didn’t need it. I acted to defend American lives and assets. Pearl Harbor’s still standing, isn’t it? That’s more than I can say for the enemy’s attempt at a forward base.” Georgia states having completely ignored the man who was about to be demoted and retired out.

  Said disgrace opened his mouth again only for Georgia to suddenly shout at a crowd behind him.

  “HEY ENTERPRISE! DOES AN UNMOUNTED GUN COUNT TOWARDS A KILL?! ‘CAUSE TEXAS’ FIVE-INCH SANK A DESTROYER!” she bellowed over her shoulder, completely ignoring the lineup of admirals now bristling with barely restrained indignation.

  Somewhere near the back of the formation, Enterprise choked on her coffee.

  A beat passed. Then, from atop a nearby warehouse roof, Enterprise's voice rang out, dry as ever:

  “Please for the love of all that is holy tell me it was not that damn anti aircraft tower!” Clevend shouts back

  A few sailors broke into ughter, and even a couple of officers couldn’t suppress a grin. Georgia, hands on her hips, grinned smugly and turned back to the brass like nothing had happened.

  Admiral Kinley’s mustache twitched like it was about to detach from his face.

  “Battleship Georgia,” he said stiffly, “this is a military debriefing, not a high school locker room.”

  Georgia’s smile didn’t budge. “Could’ve fooled me. At least in a locker room, people own their failures.”

  Before Kinley could sputter out a response, Admiral Margaret Halsey arrived, walking with the cold, practiced stride of someone used to commanding chaos.

  “Stand down, Kinley,” she said crisply. “You had your chance to lead. Georgia acted. Results speak for themselves.”

  She turned to Georgia. “I’ll take your report in private. The rest of you, go back to figuring out how not to lose the Pacific again.”

  Georgia saluted zily with two fingers, then hopped off the gangpnk with the grace of a predator. The Sakura prisoners were already being loaded into trucks, their heads still down, one or two gncing back at her with unreadable expressions. Kisaragi shuffled near the rear of the line, still pink in the face and doing everything possible to avoid eye contact.

  Georgia winked at her anyway.

  Then, to no one in particur, she muttered, “Hell of a morning.”

  ===

  Admiral Kinley arrived back at his office, the heavy silence of shame clinging to him like sweat. Half the room was already packed—photos removed from the walls, folders sealed in boxes, namepte missing from the desk. He smmed the door shut behind him, letting out a frustrated shout that echoed off the bare walls.

  Stalking to his desk, he yanked open the bottom drawer and pulled out a half-empty bottle of bourbon, unscrewing the cap with shaking hands.

  “Hold it right there, Kinley.”

  The voice stopped him cold.

  He froze, bottle in hand. Slowly, his head turned toward the door—Halsey stood there, having entered without knocking. The staff outside had gone quiet as a grave. No one was stepping between her and the man she’d just eviscerated on the docks.

  She advanced a few steps into the room, her eyes like a storm contained behind gss. She didn’t need rank to assert authority—it radiated off her like heat off a war engine.

  “You stood in that war room three weeks ago and told me the Sirens working with Sakura were a ‘myth wrapped in sailor superstition. That our intelligence reports were wrong.’ You blocked recon flights. You ignored captured intel. You refused to greenlight defensive operations at Wake. And you almost let Pearl fall.”

  Kinley tried to speak, but Halsey shut it down with a single raised finger.

  “You gambled with American lives because you didn’t want to admit the enemy had changed. You clung to your outdated models and dismissed frontline reports because they didn’t fit your neat little manual.”

  He looked down at the bottle in his hand, suddenly very small in his own office.

  “And now Georgia—a ship you called ‘untested and overbuilt’—just walked into the lion’s den, secured Wake, dragged back prisoners, and humiliated the Sakura Navy without your blessing or support. Not to mention the fact is we dont even know where she came from! A USS Georgia is not sted to be built for another 3 to 5 years, if we have room while the Montanas are if we even had room in the Yards!”

  Halsey stepped in closer, her voice dropping to a quiet, venomous intensity.

  “You may still wear that uniform, Kinley, but don’t think for a second anyone’s saluting you out of respect. It's muscle memory. Nothing more.”

  She turned to leave, but paused in the doorway.

  “When you get back to D.C., I don’t expect you to stay active duty for long. Pack up, Kinley. You’re already a memory and will probably be forgotten to time.”

  Then she was gone, the door swinging shut behind her like a final verdict.

  Kinley stood there in the silence, gripping the bottle with white knuckles—alone with the weight of failure, and the sound of a rising new war.

  ====

  Georgia sat stiff-backed in the office chair, arms folded across her chest, her golden eyes fixed on the woman across from her. The namepte on the desk read Admiral Margaret F. Halsey, but that wasn’t what had her mind spinning.

  The woman sitting there—intense, sharp-featured, with steel-blue eyes and a coiled energy beneath her sharp uniform—looked like the Bull Halsey from the files. But not. This Halsey was younger, more agile… and decidedly, impossibly, female.

  Georgia blinked, her mouth a tight line.

  “Alright,” Halsey said, breaking the silence with a low hum, “you’re staring like I’ve got guns growing outta my head.”

  “I’ve read your file,” Georgia said, choosing her words with care. “And this doesn’t match it. At all.”

  Halsey shrugged, leaning back in her chair and cing her fingers behind her head.

  “You were supposed to be a hard-charging, cigar-chewing brawler who cursed like a sailor and punched like a destroyer.”

  Halsey raised an eyebrow. “I mean, three outta four ain’t bad.”

  Georgia didn’t smile.

  “So, command wants some answers. Enterprise only shared it with those that had need to know… Future?” Halsey asks