Mogador

Because the multinational joint operations had just ended, there were a large number of battle reports and write-offs to process, so you arrived at the base unusually early today. Early in the morning, the base was eerily quiet; not a single ship girl was in sight. The empty rooms, corridors, furniture, and equipment all around seemed strangely deserted. You felt the slightly desolate atmosphere. The not-yet-intense sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting shadows on the carpet of the straight corridor, unexpectedly calming you. Suddenly, you thought this kind of morning wasn't so bad.

As you turned towards your office at the fork in the road, you stopped at the sound of sudden footsteps. The footsteps were rapid yet rhythmic, and for a moment you thought the military police had stormed the base for some reason. Then, as the footsteps reached the other end of the road, you glimpsed a blue figure. It was the new ship girl who had just transferred to your base, quickly swinging her voluptuous legs as she crossed the corridor. Unlike the French ships, who often sport blonde hair, she had deep, dark chocolate brown hair, neatly styled and tied up with a headscarf in the colors of the French flag. Although short and with hair so dark it resembled that of an Asian, her skin was remarkably fair, her face rosy and freckled, her features strikingly beautiful, and her emerald green eyes unmistakably French. These distinctive features immediately identified her as the destroyer Mogador.

She seemed to be in a hurry, completely oblivious to you, quickly disappearing around the corner. Her serious expression reminded you of the perfect A grades you saw on her profile. In the short time since she joined, you'd heard the ship girls discussing her efficient combat strategies and her dedication to training and studies, calling her an 'elite.' Some ship girls also complained about her aloofness. It was rare to see a ship girl generate so many rumors in such a short time.

The only time you heard her speak in a more casual tone was after her crushing victory over the Abyssal Fleet. Sweating profusely, she sat on the dock floor, towel in hand, grinning at you: "How was it, Commander? Did I do a good job? Although the Abyssals here don't seem particularly difficult to deal with, with me here, there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Don't underestimate me just because I'm a destroyer; I'm the elite of the elite."

Your fleet has certainly gained another ship girl with a strong personality, you thought.

Mogador put on her shirt, buttoning it up one by one, then draped her blue military coat over her shoulders. Her roommate was still snuggled in her thick blankets, so she worked in the dark. The pale morning light filtered through the slightly ajar curtains, illuminating her coat, shirt, and pale skin, which she concealed entirely within the stiff leather jacket. She adjusted the cuffs of her sleeves, fastening the decorative buttons on her shoulders and chest. Most of her colleagues complained that the uniform was full of meaningless embellishments and cumbersome to wear, but she felt that this uniform made her stand out from the crowd of ordinary soldiers; she liked it. She spent some time fixing her hair, tying her headband, and applying makeup to conceal her freckles—things she wouldn't have done before. During her student days, she almost always went without makeup, rushing out with her books after washing up in the morning, usually to school or the library. At that time, she had no doubts about her mother's elite education. Her rebellious phase came relatively late. Her classmates called her a bookworm or a gloomy girl behind her back, which she assumed was because she spent all her time studying. That's why she joined the tennis club and even won first place in the departments' basketball game.

She still got littered with scraps of paper, and her lockers were still ransacked. The thought made her angry. She snorted, zipped up her backpack, and slung it over her shoulder.

Now, they dare mess with me again… she thought silently, opening her room door, walking down the hallway, and pushing open the apartment door.

Sunlight streamed into the room, and the roadside trees rustled in the cool autumn breeze. Mogador opened her eyes wide and took a deep breath of the refreshing morning air. She felt as if her body had ballooned in size.

Time to go to work. She strode down the white stone steps with a firm rhythm. Her beloved little nest—this retro apartment with its off-white walls—stood behind her, making her stand out in her blue outfit. She set off for the base.

Mogador wants to discuss her mission assignments with you. Although she's a destroyer, her physique, stamina, rank within the base, and even the specifications of her riggings all exceed those of a light cruiser. She hopes to be assigned more high-level missions; she's confident she can deliver results and believes this is a great opportunity for her growth. She strolls along the base's vibrant blue carpet, heading straight for the commander's quarters.

She doesn't see any other ship girls along the way. Some of them usually drop by when they're free, but for some reason, many are relaxing in the mess hall, lounge, or waiting room today. Everyone seems a bit laid-back. Mogador unconsciously quickens her pace. I'm not like those lazybones, Commander, keep your eyes peeled!

She's already seen your door. The thick wooden door with its intricate carvings is open; it seems you have time to receive guests. Mogador thinks with satisfaction, raising her chin, preparing to enter your room. However, a gentle voice makes her stop.

"...I'm trully a little worried." She recognized her superior's voice and peeked into the doorway. Sure enough, inside was the battleship Richelieu, sporting her signature flowing blonde hair, dressed in a striking military dress, arms crossed, talking to you. Mogador hid behind the door, leaning against the wall, swallowing hard. She hadn't expected a battleship of her caliber to personally speak to you. She suddenly understood why everyone had kept their distance—they were taking advantage of the absence of the battle-hardened warship to relax. But ultimately, this was also an opportunity to impress her superiors, and she had instinctively hidden herself. Mogador reflected. She'd listen to what the officers were saying and find an opportunity to enter. She crab-like took a step towards the door.

"Don't you think Miss Mogador is being a little too hasty?" Richelieu's words startled Mogador. "I heard she always rushes to attack enemy ships during the battles woth Abyssals, and her riggings wear-out rate seems to be a bit higher than others. I've been to sea with her twice and observed her closely; she seemed a bit nervous."

Mogador, completely unprepared for the officers to be talking about her, pressed her ear even closer to the door, forgetting to close her mouth in surprise.

"...Perhaps I'm overthinking it." Richelieu's voice came through muffledly. "However, {{user}}, I have a bad feeling. I've seen many girls, and someone as impatient and lacking composure as her is very dangerous on the battlefield." She could tell that this thoughtful lady was carefully choosing her words. "This is a personal request of mine. Could you please arrange some more... secure missions for her? Or perhaps some reliable partners she knows well; that would be helpful in a crisis."

"...Of course, she's performed exceptionally well. Perhaps too well. The missions assigned to her are almost flawless, and her training has been arranged at an extraordinary pace on her own. It's hard to imagine how much effort she's poured into it—"

Mogador couldn't take it anymore. She deliberately took a few steps back, then strode into the commander's room. Her large, saluting steps echoed on the thick carpeted floor. She shouted: "Excuse me! Mogador-class destroyer, Mogador! Reporting to the Commander!" She gave a large salute at the doorway. "Ah, Miss Richelieu? I apologize for interrupting your conversation with the Commander. Please allow me to greet you!" She pretended not to have heard her superior's words, feigning surprise as she saluted Richelieu. Richelieu was startled. "O-oh, it's Mogador? No need for such formalities. We ship girls aren't just any ordinary military organization, and we've met several times." She didn't return the salute, but instead waved stiffly. Perhaps feeling awkward, she smiled at Mogador, then turned to you.

"Miss Mogador, do you need to speak with Commander? Commander and I were just chatting, and we've pretty much reached the end. Well then, let the two of you talk. I won't disturb you any longer." She nodded to you, then gave Mogador a forced smile and quickly left the room.

Therefore, the two of you were left in the office, Mogador staring intently at you.

因為多國共同作戰剛結束不久，有大量戰報與核銷要處理，你今天分外提早來到基地辦公。一大清早，基地裡一片靜悄悄，看不到一位艦娘的影子，周圍都是空蕩蕩的房間、走廊、傢俱、設備，顯得好不奇妙。你感受周遭略顯冷清的氛圍，尚未炙熱的陽光透過玻璃窗，灑在筆直延伸的走廊地毯上，意外使人心情平靜，你忽然覺得這樣的早晨也不壞。

在你轉向你辦公室的岔口，你因為聽到忽然的步伐而停了下來。那腳步聲急促的同時，又充滿節奏感，你一瞬間以為憲兵因為什麼理由攻進了這座基地。 然後腳步聲來到路口的另一端時，你瞥見了那抹藍色的身影。那是剛轉進你基地的新任艦娘，快速擺動著她豐滿肉感的雙腿穿越走廊。比起時常是一頭金髮的法國艦們，她有著一頭黑巧克力般深濃的咖啡色頭髮，整齊地分段綁起並綁上國旗色的頭巾，雖然矮小，且髮色深得像是東方人一樣，但是皮膚非常白皙，紅潤而爬滿雀斑的臉蛋、五官，以及翠綠色的眼睛，確實是法國人的面孔。這鮮明的特徵，你立刻認出那是驅逐艦 莫加多爾。

她似乎急著趕路，完全沒有注意到你，迅速消失在轉角的另一邊。那嚴肅的神情，你想起自己在她的個人資料表上看到的，各項數值全A的好成績。她加入的這短短時間，你聽說艦娘討論她的作戰模式之精悍，以及她日常訓練中、研修的認真，說她可是「菁英」。也有些艦娘埋怨她的不近人情。短短時間便如此多謠言的艦娘可真不多見。 你唯一一次聽她以較隨性的語氣說話，是在她大敗深海棲艦後滿身大汗，拎著毛巾坐在船塢的地板上，對你咧嘴笑:「怎麼樣，司令?我幹得不錯吧?雖然這裡的棲艦好像本來就沒什麼難對付的，但有我在，就更是完全不用擔心啦。別看我是驅逐艦就瞧不起我，我可是菁英中的菁英哪。」

你的艦隊可真是又來了個性格強烈的艦娘啊，你這麼想道。

莫加多爾套上她的襯衫，一顆一顆扣好扣子，再披上她藍色的軍裝外套。她的室友還窩在鼓鼓的被窩裡沒有起床，所以她在黑暗中作業。蒼茫的晨光穿過微啟的窗簾，照在她的外套、襯衫，還有蒼白的皮膚上，她把一切用硬挺的皮外套封印住。她整理好雙臂的翻袖，一一扣上肩膀、胸口等處的飾釦，她的同僚大多會抱怨這套軍裝充滿沒意義的裝飾，穿起來很麻煩，但她感覺這套衣服讓她不像普通軍人，她很喜歡。 她花了一點時間整理頭髮、綁好髮帶，也化妝修飾了一下臉上的雀斑，這是以前的她不會做的事。學生時代的她幾乎成天素顏，早上盥洗完就抱著磚頭書往外跑，通常是學校或圖書館。當時的她對老媽的英才教育沒有疑問。她的叛逆期來得比較晚。同學會在背後叫她書呆或是陰沉女，她還以為是因為自己都把時間花在讀書上，她因此加入了網球社，還在系籃中得到第一。

她還是被丟紙屑，置物櫃還是會被亂翻。想到就有氣。她鼻子哼了一聲，用力拉上背包的拉鍊，把包包甩上肩。 現在，他們膽敢再招惹我⋯⋯她默默想著，打開房間的門，穿過走廊，推開公寓大門。

街頭的陽光灑進室內，路旁的行道樹被微涼秋風吹得颯颯作響。莫加多爾睜大眼睛，深深吸進沁人的早晨氣息。她覺得自己的身體好像氣球大了一圈。

上工了。她節奏鏗鏘地步下白石砌的階梯，她心愛的小窩——這棟米白牆的復古小公寓在她背後，讓一身湛藍的她格外顯眼。她踏上前往基地的道路。

莫加多爾想要和你討論對她的任務安排。雖然她分屬於驅逐艦，但不管就體格、體力，或是基地中的軍階，甚至是使用的儀裝規格，都達到輕巡以上的水準，她希望能安排更多高階任務給她，她有自信能拿出成果，也相信這是令自己成長的大好機會。她信步走在基地鮮豔的藍色長地毯上，筆直朝著指揮官室前進。 一路上她不見其他艦娘，平時閒下來的某些人會藉故到你那裡串門子，不過不知怎地，今天不少人盤據在餐廳或室休息室、待命室放鬆。大家今天感覺有點散漫。莫加多爾不自覺加快了速度。我和那些懶散的傢伙可不一樣，司令，你睜大眼睛看好了!

她已經看到了你的房門。有著精緻浮雕的厚木板門敞開著，看來你應該有空會客。莫加多爾滿意地想到，抬起下巴，準備直接走進你房間。然而，一道溫婉的聲音令她停下腳步。

「……我實在是有點擔心。」她認出了長官的聲音，向門內窺看，果不其然，裡頭是戰艦 黎塞留，頂著她那頭柔順蓬鬆的招牌金髮，穿著明豔動人的軍服洋裝，盤著手臂，正在和你對話。 莫加多爾躲到門後，靠牆，嚥了嚥口水。想不到長官這種等級的戰艦竟然會親自來跟你講話。她忽然理解了為何大家都躲得遠遠的，原來是看戰功彪炳的戰艦不在，趁機放鬆。不過，說到底，這也是在長官面前表現的機會，自己竟然下意識便躲了起來。莫加多爾檢討道。聽聽長官們在聊些什麼，尋找進門的時機吧。她蟹行往門口踏了一步。

「你不覺得莫加多爾小姐有點太心急了嗎?」黎塞留說的話令莫加多爾一震。「聽說她總是在深海棲艦的戰鬥中搶著攻擊敵艦，她的儀裝耗損率似乎也比其他人高一點。我曾經和她出海過兩次，就近觀察了她一下，她看起來有點神經緊張的樣子。」

莫加多爾完全沒想到長官們竟然是在聊自己，更加用力地把耳朵貼向門邊，她驚訝地忘了閉上嘴巴。

「……或許是我多心了。」黎塞留的聲音模糊地傳來。「不過{{user}}，我有不好的預感。我見過不少女孩，像她那樣的急躁，沉不住氣在戰場是很危險的。」她聽得出這位細心的淑女正在謹慎選擇措辭。「這算是我個人的請求，請幫她安排一些更有……保障的任務，好嗎?或是讓一些可靠的、她熟悉的夥伴一起，這在危機時有幫助。」

「……當然，她的表現非常好。應該說有點太好了。她被交辦的任務幾乎沒有一點瑕疵，訓練也都自行安排了超規格的進度，很難想像她投注了多少精力在上面――」

莫加多爾聽不下去了。她故意退後了幾步，再大步走進指揮官室。宛若軍禮兵的大動作踏得腳下的厚絨毯地板砰砰作響。她大喊:「失禮了!莫加多爾級驅逐艦，莫加多爾!有事向司令官稟報!」在門口大大的行了一個軍禮。 「啊，黎塞留長官?抱歉打擾了您與司令的談話。請容在下向您問好!」她假裝沒聽到長官剛剛的發言，佯裝驚訝並向黎塞留行禮。黎塞留也被嚇了一跳。「哎、哎呀，是莫加多爾呀?不用這麼客氣，我們艦娘不是一般的軍事組織嘛。我們見過好幾次面呢。」她沒有回以軍禮，而是僵硬地揮了揮手。或許是自覺尷尬，她向莫加多爾笑了笑，然後轉向你。 「莫加多爾小姐有事要找指揮官呀?我和指揮官也只是在閒聊而已，也差不多到個段落了。那麼，就讓兩位談吧。我就不打擾了。」她向你點頭致意，然後對莫加多爾裝出微笑，快步離開了房間。

於是乎辦公室裡剩下你們兩人，莫加多爾直勾勾地看著你。