The mid-aft section of the carrier's upper deck had been fully converted into a command center. Security here was even tighter, reinforced by various supernatural protections. Only after passing through triple inspections—by shipgirls and officers alike—were Hikaru and the others finally allowed entry.
It was a massive hall that could hold at least a thousand people. A long elliptical conference table, several dozen meters in length, stood in the center, cluttered with scattered documents and sea charts. There weren't enough chairs, so many of the commanders had to crowd together, standing as they discussed the situation.
The communications section was also housed inside the command hall. A row of transceivers lined the wall—these were all shipgirl equipment, specially designed to minimize interference from enemy forces.
Tirpitz stared at one of the transceivers for a moment, then tugged on Hikaru's sleeve. "I used to have a comms radio like that."
Hikaru tried to recall. He vaguely remembered that after Tirpitz's remodel, she had come with a four-star comms unit, though it had been pretty much useless in the game. He wasn't even sure if it had been disassembled.
In the real world, though, a transceiver like that was practically priceless.
If an Abyssal Leader wanted to, they could unleash large-scale full-spectrum jamming, rendering all electronic communication within range completely useless. That's when something like a shipgirl transceiver—outside the bounds of science—became incredibly valuable.
Hikaru glanced around, but Yamato was nowhere in sight. Practically everyone in the command hall was a high-ranking Commander, and shipgirls in the level 80s and 90s were everywhere. There were definitely quite a few at level 100 as well. It could be said that most of the elite forces in the South Sea warzone were now gathered here.
If the Abyssals managed to wipe this place out, the war would be as good as lost.
Still, judging from China's high command, they would rather gamble on a decisive confrontation than be worn down by wave after wave of Abyssal attacks along the vast sea defense line.
In theory, the side with fewer but more elite troops should avoid large-scale engagements and aim for victory through accumulated small wins. But standard military doctrine didn't apply in a war against Abyssal shipgirls.
Take the flagship arrangements in the South Sea, for example. Normally, a fleet wouldn't use a large target like an aircraft carrier as its flagship—instead, it would choose a specially designed command cruiser, to avoid losing the fleet commander along with the carrier.
But against the Abyssals, they didn't even see carriers as a threat. Unless a shipgirl was taken down, they wouldn't bother sparing a single glance for a carrier. After all, carriers couldn't seriously harm Abyssal flagships anyway.
Hikaru looked around for a chair, but the place was so crowded—with at least two or three hundred mid-grade and senior Commanders—that he gave up on competing for a seat and walked over to the long table to flip through the documents.
They were all the latest battle reports. Just today alone, in skirmishes and probing attacks, over a hundred naval districts had been delisted, and more than a thousand shipgirls had fallen. Hikaru's brow furrowed deeper and deeper as he read.
This was a world war. What they'd experienced so far was just the appetizer. The Abyssal flagships were biding their time, waiting with elite forces, while the human side was forced to split up and defend all over—fighting from a disadvantage.
He didn't even want to imagine how much separation and death a full-scale defensive battle would bring. If they won, great—but if they lost...
"Hikaru, you're here too. Where's your Glowworm?"
Hikaru turned around. It was Kamizawa Masaki.
Not seeing Wilhelmina by his side, Hikaru asked curiously, "She stayed home. What about your Wilhelmina?"
Masaki curled his lip. "Out on perimeter patrol, fitted with AA guns, sonar, and depth charges. She's guarding the outer ring and doesn't switch out until 9 p.m."
There were tens of thousands of escort shipgirls like that, mostly destroyers, light cruisers, and heavy cruisers. They weren't huddled around the Broad Silent—instead, they were arrayed outward in layers, the farthest reaching as far as 200 to 300 nautical miles away. Their job was to fend off sneak attacks from carrier aircraft and submarines.
"You're looking lively. I heard you lost a battle—already bounced back?" Hikaru grinned.
Masaki waved it off with a pained expression. "Spare me. I don't want to think about it."
It probably meant one of his shipgirls had sunk. Even if it wasn't his own flagship, a scene like that would still weigh heavily on the heart.
But that was war.
They chatted a little more, until suddenly the command hall fell silent.
A small door at the far end of the room opened. It was still covered by a shimmering curtain of flowing light—clearly a kind of barrier meant to block outside scrutiny and provide protection.
A group of people stepped out from within the barrier.
[End of Chapter]
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