Author's Note:
There will be a short break next week on Summoning America as I work on outlining the end of the Gra Valkan arc. This will involve a lot of research on real world politics and political history. Chapter updates might therefore take longer, but I hope that the quality and length will make up for it.
– –
February 15, 1641
Otaheit, Mu
31st Marine Expeditionary Unit, Seventh Fleet
USS America (LHA-6)
The cool ocean breeze, the seagulls in the air, the warm sun, the huff and puff of a good cigar? Man! For all intents and purposes, this might as well have been Yokosuka. Damn near everything about this place reminded him of home, if not for the iron warships in the distance belching smoke. Like damn, was this a set for The Final Countdown 2?
Colonel Henson had seen some Muan ships here and there around the Holy Mirishial Empire, but seeing a whole fleet of these interwar-era dreadnoughts and cruisers in person was quite the sight. Almost beautiful, he had to admit. And then there were the Mirishial vessels, mixed in between. Shit, he couldn't even think of a reference for those. Most people he talked to saw their aesthetic as elven. Basic, but aptly fitting, given the golden pomp of their ships.
That wasn't even mentioning the massive Mercedes-Benz logo flying in the air. What was it, a Pal Chimera? Crazy shit like that, plus the Otaheit city skyline, plus the whole host of other weird anachronisms, all reminded him that yes, he was indeed in another world. Somehow, it seemed both normal and not.
"Sir," a voice called out behind him. "We're preparing to go over docking procedures."
If there was one sliver of normalcy in all this, it was his job. Even in another world, the USMC was still the USMC. Henson turned around, cigar still in his mouth. "Alright. Let's go."
He followed the man to the bridge. Once there, he observed the ship's captain address the communications officer.
"Raise the Otaheit Port Authority on VHF channel 6. Let's get harbor clearance and berthing procedures," the captain ordered.
"Aye, sir. Raising them now."
The lieutenant worked the comms system, and soon a voice came through the speaker. "Otaheit Port Authority, this is Port Administrator Wynton. Identify yourself and state your intentions."
Even through the radio, the man's voice was unsteady – kinda like the announcer back during the World Leadership Conference when they'd first shown up. Eh, it made sense. It was probably the guy's first time seeing their ships.
The captain replied, "This is Captain Chandler, commanding officer of the USS America. We're approaching the harbor and requesting clearance and berthing procedures. ETA: 0940 hours."
Port Administrator Wynton responded, "Ah, Captain Chandler, welcome to Otaheit. We've been expecting you. Can you confirm your vessel's particulars, please? Length, beam, and draft?"
The captain consulted the data on his console. "Length is 257 meters, beam is 32 meters, and draft is 7.9 meters."
"Right then, Captain. Please be advised of draft restrictions for approach channels leading to Berth 3. The maximum allowable draft is 9 meters. The approach channel has been dredged to a depth of 12 meters."
Henson glanced at the navigator, who nodded along at the information. Man, it was a good thing the captain and navigator knew what they were doing, 'cause parking a ship sure as hell wasn't his forte. All he knew was the basic dialogue.
