Bongshorts: Delight Is A Good Girl

The following morning Devonport Naval Base was awoken by a great, thundering cry of, “OHHH MY GOOOD!”

The culprit was determined to be Cornwallis, but when pressed for answers, all he’d do was point and sputter in the direction of the crew barrack lavatories at HMS Drake.

The night before had been curry night.

“Is this what the Royal Navy is reduced to?” Cornwallis wondered aloud as he made his way to the cookhouse. “Certainly, you’d never have seen that sort of foulness exhibited in -my- day. Why, they’d have rounded up those responsible and–”

He was rudely brought out of his train of thought when a ginger blur collided with him at speed, almost toppling the old battleship.

“Who–what?!” he choked, only just keeping his balance.

“Hiiii grandpaaaaa,” Delight chirped happily, having wrapped her arms around Cornwallis’ waist like one of those tiny simians in the colonies. Much like them, she didn’t seem particularly eager to let go anytime soon.

“Good morning, Delight,” Cornwallis greeted with a heavy, leaden sigh. His own fault: he should have been on the lookout. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d let go of me?”

“No,” Delight drawled airily in her lilting, sing-song voice.

Cornwallis looked down to regard the little destroyer. She’d somehow gotten it into her head that he was her grandfather, and wouldn’t really explain her reasoning to him–at least, not in any way that made much sense. Dainty had gotten her to stop pestering him on the trip back home with Bond, the Commander and the Specialist, McLeod. Unfortunately, like a switch had been flipped as soon as they had made shore, Delight had begun to act up again.

He wasn’t sure why he fascinated the young girl so. As far as he was aware, he was certainly old, some might even whisper outdated in terms of his design–the nerve. But aside from that, he was drawing a blank as to why Delight pursued him so. Was it born out of some kind of attraction? The thought repulsed him and he discarded it immediately. Delight called him ‘Grandpa’. That word had meaning, and he -knew- that meaning, he was certain. For whatever reason, though, he couldn’t drudge it up.

So, for the moment, he stood there with a ginger destroyer attached to his leg like a limpet and humming some bizarre tune to herself. He noticed a pair of security staff pointing and sniggering, who were quickly silenced with a flinty glare. Once they had passed on by–barely suppressing grins, Cornwallis noticed with some consternation–he turned his gaze back to the humming destroyer.

“Delight…” he began.

“Yeees?”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Nooo.”

“Do you want to?”

She tilted her head, considering the question. Then, without warning, she let go of him and grasped hold of his hand, tugging him in the direction of the cookhouse.

“Oh! Oh!” She cried, “They have a really nice breakfast they do for us here! There’s waffles and pancakes and syrup that tastes kind of funny but you get used to it, it’s nice…”

The rest of her excitable babble was lost as she dragged Cornwallis to get something to eat. The old warship, already resigned to his fate, simply let it happen. In short order, he and Delight found themselves in the queue for food, Cornwallis balancing two trays in both hands as the ginger destroyer stubbornly clung to him.

“Got yourself a fan, big guy?” one of the chefs joked. Cornwallis said nothing, his face an expressionless mask.

Moments later, Mr McLeod joined the queue. He looked, in Cornwallis’ own opinion, like something had chewed on him for a few hours before spitting him out. His hair and clothes were a mess and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in at least two days. Cornwallis reflected that if he were Royal Navy, he’d have been severely reprimanded for his scraggy appearance. He wearily picked up a tray and slapped it down on the rails next to Delight, who turned her head to face the newcomer.

“Hi Ben,” Delight greeted with a bright, goody smile and a friendly wave.

Slowly–so slowly at first that, for a moment, Cornwallis wasn’t sure if the man had even heard Delight–Mr McLeod turned to face Delight, his expression souring as if he’d suddenly started sucking on a lemon.

“…Delight,” he greeted with a stony face. He blinked, and raised his gaze to meet Cornwallis. McLeod man tensed up a fraction–almost imperceptibly so–but eventually, he nodded slowly in greeting.

“…Cornwallis.”

Cornwallis paused, wondering if the man was still fretting about what he’d shown him the other day. Probably was. Understandable, though, considering.

“Specialist,” Cornwallis greeted with a nod of his own. “You seem… tired.”

The corner of the Specialist’s mouth twitched, though Cornwallis wasn’t sure whether it was in a grin or a frown.

“I got ambushed by Effingham early this morning,” he explained. “Wanted to talk to me about some crazy, hare-brained idea concerning Spartan.”

“What kind of idea?” Cornwallis asked.

McLeod opened his mouth, and then paused, as if considering. After a moment, he stopped and shook his head, “You want to know; you can ask her. She doesn’t seem all that big on keeping secrets.”

“You would know better than I,” Cornwallis replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

McLeod snorted, and moments later, Delight tugged at his shirt, “Grandpa, the queue’s moving, we’ve got to go if we’re going to get any of the really, -really- nice stuff.”

“Grandpa?” McLeod inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

“She started calling me that shortly after I found you the other day,” Cornwallis told him with a sigh as Delight pulled him along.

Minutes later, they were sat down. Delight possessed a mountain of pancakes and waffles that she absolutely -coated- in golden syrup and was happily digging in. Cornwallis, by comparison, had elected to take a more modest breakfast of toast, eggs and a small selection of ham in spite of Delight’s suggestion that he try the waffles and the syrup. He was still getting used to the idea of this whole ‘eating’ thing, but he wasn’t entirely against it if he was honest. Some of the food he’d been served so far had been delicious; and he was fully aware that there was much, much more to sample.

Unfortunately, Delight proved to be a very quick eater, as no sooner had Cornwallis finished his eggs than the little destroyer was pestering him once more–this time in order to show him around Devonport. He’d barely been awake longer than a few hours and already he felt exhausted. Once more, he pondered her curious obsession with him.

Once more, he drew a big fat blank.
***
Wishing that Delight would lose interest long enough for him to beat a retreat after having eaten so much proved to be an ultimately vain hope, unfortunately. Like a limpet she remained attached to him as they left the cookhouse, and she began to give him an impromptu tour of Devonport which was proving to be even less informative than the one he’d had upon his arrival. Delight, he suspected, had either not been here long herself, or had mostly confined herself to one particular section of HMNBD.

“–and that’s the barracks there,” Delight chirped, pointing to the building where the enlisted men were quartered. “I’ve never been in there but I bet it’s nice.”

“I’m sure,” Cornwallis muttered.

Delight stopped. She turned and looked up at him, still clutching his arm with both tiny hands.

“Are you not having a nice time?” she asked. She sounded almost… sad?

“It’s not that,” Cornwallis sighed, “It’s just–”

“Good,” Delight beamed, cutting him off. “Not having a nice time just isn’t nice, and there’s plenty of things to do here.”

And just like that, an idea sprung to mind.

“Hey, Delight?” he ventured carefully. Once again she looked up at him, her face a perfect portrait of innocence. He felt a momentary stab of guilt as he quickly worked out what he’d need to say to pull this off. She was so trusting. He had very little doubt that she’d wander off the edge of the harbour if he gave her a reason.

“Yeees?”

“Have you ever been into Plymouth at all?”

“Plymouth?” she tilted her head, confused.

“The city outside Devonport?”

“Ohh, -that- place. Mr Holloway doesn’t normally let us go out there, but that’s okay. I have a nice time here too.”

“Don’t you want to see it?”

Delight paused again, placing a finger on her lips, contemplating the question.

“Yeah,” she hummed, “I’m sure it’s really nice out there.”

Well, she’d taken the bait; time to reel her in.

“So do you want to go with me, then?”

“-Really-?” the wattage on Delight’s smile could have powered an entire city. Her eyes were wide with scantly-repressed excitement. That feeling of guilt returned in force. He almost didn’t want to go through with this. “You’ll come with me?”

“I will,” Cornwallis nodded. “But I have some things to take care of–alone! Things that I need to do alone,” he emphasised as he was sure Delight would suggest they go together. “But once I’m done, I’ll come and get you. You just need to wait…” he trailed off, thinking of a good place to leave her. Regardless of how scummy he felt about doing this, he didn’t want to leave her out if the weather was bad.

Eventually, he settled on a bench that sat before a row of trees. It was a moderately warm day so she wouldn’t be cold and if it started to rain, she could seek shelter underneath the trees.

“Right there,” he pointed. “I’ll finish my tasks, and I’ll come back here to pick you up.”

“Okaaay,” Delight hummed in, well, delight. She skipped over to the bench and plopped herself down, looking up at Cornwallis with a beaming smile. The old battleship suppressed a grin as he waved goodbye to Delight and made his way back to his room. He had quite a lot of reading to catch up on and he might actually get some of it done now...
***
Delight’s world was a simple one.

There was nice–and there was not nice.

Nice was nice. It gave her nice feelings; made her laugh; made her feel warm; made her feel safe. She got those feelings around Dainty, and Mister Holloway, and Effie; and Spartie; and Beddie; and Avenger–who gave her a lollipop one time–and Pandie; and those funny foreign girls with the nice accents. She even got them from other people on the base, like that grumpy-looking Mr Ben–he always looked really funny. So did Glorie, now that she thought about it.

She giggled and thought about her upcoming day out with Grandpa. She’d never been outside Devonport except to go out into the water with the others. Sometimes nothing happened and she’d simply drift along and embrace the way the wind caressed her hair. Other times, things weren’t so nice. It got noisy, and sometimes she hurt. Sometimes others got hurt. She hated seeing that. It wasn’t nice.

But she didn’t have to worry about any of that today. She was going to spend all day with her grandpa. Maybe he’d get her a present like the ones she read about in her picture books? The idea thrilled her and she kicked her legs excitedly and rocked from side to side. She could hardly wait. How long did Grandpa say he’d be, again? She shook her head; it didn’t matter. Delight was a good girl. She’d wait right here for her Grandpa no matter how long he took.

Then all of a sudden, her vision went dark.

Delight blinked and raised her hands to her eyes, and found there was a pair of hands covering her eyes.

“Guuuueeeeess who!” the voice chirped.

“I guess Effie!” Delight said with a laugh. Effie had a really funny voice; she’d never mistake her for anyone else on the base.

“Yoooou’re right!” Effingham cried. “And you know what that means?”

“What does it mean, Effie?” Delight giggled, remembering the routine.

The next thing the little destroyer knew, Effingham had removed her hands and lowered them to trail along Delight’s flanks before diving in and giving her the tickle attack of a lifetime.

“TICKLETICKLETICKLETICKLETICKLETICKLETICKLETICKLETICKLE!”

Delight squealed and laughed as Effinham’s assault intensified, rolling onto her side in a futile effort to escape. Effingham was quick, though, and after a solid minute, Delight was left breathless and tittering. The tall, blonde cruiser wasn’t finished yet, however, as she scooped her up and spun her about like an amusement park ride.

“Whoooosh!” Effingham hissed, and Delight laughed in glee before she was hugged tight to the older girl’s ample chest.

Delight liked Effie. She was always smiling, which was really nice, and she had been super-duper nice to her from the moment they’d met.

Finally, Effingham lowered her back down to the ground. “So, what’s shakin’ squirt?”

“I’m waiting,” she replied happily.

“Waiting? For who?” Moments later, Effingham’s eyes widened in shock as a possibility struck her. “Has some bloke asked you out or summin’? I’ll bet they ‘ave, the pervy sailors,” she started to roll up her sleeves. “Point ‘em out! I’ll give ‘em a kickin’ they’ll never ruddy well forge–”

“I’m waiting for Grandpa,” Delight said, stopping Effingham in her tracks.

“Grandpa? Who…?” she trailed off, thinking. “Wait… you mean the big, old bloke we brought back from that one sortie?”

Delight nodded.

“Uh… all right then?” Effingham pulled her sleeves back down, but still appeared considerably confused. “Why Grandpa, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“Well,” Delight began, parking herself back on the bench and swinging her legs, “all the girls in those picture books Dainty got for me have a mummy and daddy, right?”

Effingham’s expression grew brittle.

“Oh…”

“And they’ve got a grandma and a grandpa too, right?”

“Ooohh…”

“And he’s really old, right? But he’s also like us; so he’s -got- to be my grandpa,” she looked up at Effingham, who shifted about, appearing strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Don’t worry, I’ll share him with you; he’s your grandpa too. It’ll be nice.”

Effingham raised a hand behind her head and scratched awkwardly, very much unsure of what to say. Eventually, though, she lowered it, took a deep breath and muttered something that Delight didn’t catch, followed by a slightly louder, “Lawks, where’s that old girl when you need her?”

The blonde cruiser flicked her gaze back to Delight and sighed, stuffing her hands back in her pocket.

“Bollocks to it, I’ve no idea how to handle -this-,” she declared, and then abruptly changed the topic. “Don’t s’pose you’ve seen the grunt at all?”

Delight cocked her head, “Grunt?”

“Ben: new guy who came before the old new guy who also looks like he’s been suckin’ on sour grapes the last… oh I dunno, forever?”

“Oh! Him,” Delight nodded enthusiastically. “I saw him at breakfast. He didn’t eat with us but it was still nice.”

“Aaand I don’t s’pose you’d have seen where he’d gone after you’d eaten?”

“Nooo.”

“Bugger. Ah well, s’no hassle for now, but if he walks by, tell him I’ve gotta see ‘im ‘bout summit, all right?”

“Okaaay.”

“Cool, all right then… uh, see you around, squirt.” Effingham then gave her a wave and spun around on the heel of her left foot before tromping off, no doubt to hunt for Mr Ben.

Delight looked away from Effingham’s retreating form and up at the sky. It was a nice day; not too hot, but not cold either, and she smiled in satisfaction and anticipation of her upcoming day out. She wondered where they would go. Maybe they’d go to a park and frolic about? That’d be nice. Or maybe they’d go to a sweet shop; that’d be even more nice. Maybe on the way back he’d give her a piggy back ride! That’d be extra-super-duper nice!

A pair of Navy officers passed her, and she smiled widely at them as they went on by. One of them, who was more senior in rank, gave her a friendly grin and a little wave in return. The other ignored her. That was fine. Maybe he had other things to think about.

Then she heard a sound that froze her; chilled her like she’d been dipped in the coldest, darkest lake at the very edge of the world.

It was an echoing, droning howl, like that of one of those great big cars they used, but no car engine could possibly make such noise as was currently reverberating throughout her world right now. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two officers look up. The noise grew louder. Closer. Delight felt her breathing quicken. Her vision began to blur.

She knew that sound; remembered it well.

“No…” she mumbled breathlessly as her chest rose and fell with increased frequency. She was starting to hyperventilate. Unaware of her plight, one of the two men swore and turned to his fellow officer.

“Get me a phone! I want to know what the -hell- that -bloody- plane is doing over a military installation!” the other man he’d spoken to nodded and ran off. All the while, Delight’s vision was beginning to dim. She was shivering and icy beads of sweat ran in rivulets down her body.

Nonono. That was a bad sound. Nonono. She’d heard that sound before–

–a sudden, ripping pain stemming from her forecastle. Then came fire–burning like nothing she’d ever felt before. The sea rose up to claim her and she tried to keep herself above the lapping waves that whispered so sweetly and so horrifically to her–

–it had gone dark for the first time. She remembered that feeling. She hated it. It wasn’t nice. She never wanted to go through it again. That sound was very not nice. It brought pain; promised it.

Nononononononononononono.

The Navy officer, who had thus far stood glowering up at the buzzing horror with his hands planted firmly on his hips, tilted his head. He turned around and looked down at Delight, and his expression became one of concern.

“Hey, uh… little Miss shiplady? Are you okay?”

Nononono. She was not okay. This was not nice. She had to get away. She had to run. Nonono, this was not nice at all.

Before she was even conscious of it, she was up on her feet and racing away. She didn’t know, and didn’t care, where she might end up. Just as long as it was away from that awful noise. She was vaguely aware of a voice calling out to her but she tuned it out. All that existed was her and the noise. Tears streamed from her eyes as she ran. She stumbled and tripped in her panic, and picked herself up again to continue her flight, heart thump-thumping in her chest as terror enveloped her completely.

The little destroyer ran and ran and always, the noise persisted.

When, finally, her senses returned to her, she found herself under a bridge. She was exhausted, soaked in sweat, and her pretty blue sundress clung to her body like a suffocating second skin. She didn’t feel very nice at all. She felt miserable and terrified, and the noise was still out there. To her diminished relief, it was softer and quieter now. But it was still out there. Still hunting for her.

Tears once more sprung unbidden and Delight hugged herself tightly. It was cold down here. It wasn’t nice. But if she left then the noise would find her again. So she had to stay. She hated it.

“Leave me alone…” she hiccupped. “Please.”

The noise persisted. Her heart stopped as it seemed to rise in pitch for a moment before returning to its previous, agitated buzzing. She trembled and started to sob. This was really, -really- not nice.

“Mister Holloway…” she choked, hoping the weary, but kindly admiral would be there to soothe her with a few words of encouragement.

But he wasn’t.

“Dainty…” she whimpered, hoping that her dry, sardonic sister would be there to pull her to her feet and ask if she wanted to read one of those funny picture books in their room together.

But she wasn’t.

“Grandpa…” she snivelled, hoping the big old man with the fuzzy beard would be there to scoop her up and tuck her into bed like the ones she read about in her books with Dainty and say something that would make all the un-nice things go away.

But he wasn’t.

“Anybody…”

But there was no one there.

“I’m scared…”
***
“Get up.”

Cornwallis awoke with a start and promptly slammed his head against the head of his bed.

“Sonofabi–!” he stopped as he realised there was a figure standing over him. Craning his head upwards, he found Dainty staring down at him in all her freckled glory.

She did not seem particularly happy.

“Effingham told me that you and Delight were going into Plymouth today,” she said, folding her arms. “That was six hours ago.”

Cornwallis said nothing, fully aware that there was very little he could conceivably say that would convince Dainty he hadn’t blown off her sister to read up on these fascinating and strange modern times. He also realised that one of the magazines he’d been given on cars was lying open on his chest and, slowly, he raised a hand to shift it along out of the destroyer girl’s sight.

Naturally, Dainty was having none of it; eyes narrowing dangerously at him before he’d moved an inch.

“What you’ll do…” she began, her voice low and promising much threat if unheeded, “is go to her, tell her that you’re very sorry for keeping her waiting, and spend what remains of today with her here. Then, you’ll tell her that you’ll go with her into Plymouth -tomorrow- as well and so help me, if I discover you don’t…” she trailed off.

“Is that a threat, girl?” Cornwallis inquired, slowly picking himself up and rearing up to his full height, towering over the destroyer.

Dainty scoffed, “What, you think you threaten me just because you’re big?”

Cornwallis blinked, and in that near insignificant span of time, Dainty had summoned her fit-out; guns and torpedo tubes all brought to bear. She glared up at him, brown eyes full of scorn and defiance.

“You aren’t the biggest thing I’ve fought,” she growled. “You’re not even the biggest thing I’ve -killed-. Make this right or, make no mistake, I -will- find a way to make your life here a living hell.”

With that, she de-summoned her equipment and took a small step back but didn’t leave, waiting for Cornwallis to make the first move. A heavy, tense silence settled over the room, neither occupant so much as twitching as Dainty’s smouldering brown eyes locked gazes with Cornwallis’ frosty blues.

It couldn’t go on, however, and finally Cornwallis broke the deadlock with a heavy, leaden sigh.

“Fine, I suppose I should throw the girl a bone–she’s probably been waiting in that spot for hours now.”

Dainty’s eyes narrowed even further, but she didn’t comment on the remark and stepped aside to let him out of his room.

Naturally, she followed him all the way to the spot he’d asked Delight to wait some… huh, it actually -was- six hours ago. Longer than that, even. They rounded a corner and followed the path that led them to a little courtyard in between two barrack houses, where Delight waited for a trip that wasn’t happening. Once more, that cutting sensation of guilt returned.

…

The bench was down a destroyer.

Cornwallis couldn’t see Dainty, but he had little doubt that she was even now attempting to burn a hole through the back of his skull out of pure loathing.

“Oh, relax,” Cornwallis waved her off dismissively, “I’ve been here all of a handful of days and even -I- know she’s not the sort to run off like that. She has to be nearby.”

“… And if she’s not?” Dainty’s voice was so low that the old warship almost didn’t hear her.

Cornwallis refrained from answering that question, at least not until he could decisively determine where the bugger that strange little girl had disappeared off to.

“Delight!” Cornwallis called. He waited a moment, bracing himself for the tackle-hug that he knew was headed his way.

But it didn’t come.

“Hmmm,” Cornwallis hummed, raising a hand to his chin, deep in thought.

He really didn’t have any way out of this one.

Fortunately, he was spared Dainty’s wrath when an MP passed on by and, recognising that -something- was about to down from the venomous expression the young girl wore, decided to intervene.

“What’s going on here?” he inquired, his expression neutral, but Cornwallis detected a note of wariness in both his posture and tone of voice.

Dainty kept up her death-gaze for a moment longer before dialling it down as she faced the MP, “The big loaf there,” she jerked her head in Cornwallis’ direction, “appears to have lost my sister, Delight. Perhaps you know her? Kind of looks like me? Blue sundress with a flower print pattern? Always smiling and humming?”

“Ah,” the MP nodded, “her. Yeah, I know of her. Bit of a ruckus raised earlier by a couple of sailors concerning her. And a search too.”

“What?” Dainty’s confusion was all too clear to see. “-Search-? Why? What happened?”

“Few hours back a Cessna flew overhead–brass was shitting itself trying to figure out how the fuck -that- happened–and shortly after, we get a call saying your sister just -bolted-. Ran right off. We’ve been scouring the base for her the last two hours now but we’re pretty confident we’ll turf her up soon; she can’t have gone -that- far.”

“Really? Soon?” Dainty asked pointedly, folding her arms a little too quickly if you asked Cornwallis. In a way, she reminded him of McLeod when he’d shown him his kind’s little secret the other day, trying very hard to keep her cool. “What basis have you got for that, hm? Are you going to tell me you’ve combed the -entire- facility and only have to check a few more places? Are you going to tell me you’ve -also- got a perimeter up on the coast in case she ran out to sea? What’ll happen if you -don’t- find her ‘soon’?”

The MP blinked, clearly not anticipating such an assault. He raised his hands and gestured for her to calm down, “Easy, easy, we’ll find her. Just have to–”

“Has no one learned -ANYTHING- from the -last- time this happened?!” Dainty roared. “She’d be terrified out of her mind! She wouldn’t stop, she wouldn’t slow, she’d just keep going until she’s away from the sound of that bloody plane engine!” Suddenly, she wheeled around to face Cornwallis again. “You! You’re the cause of all this! You are coming with me to find her and we will not bloody stop until we have! Any bloody questions?”

Cornwallis, taken aback by Dainty’s sudden outburst, simply nodded along.

“Good, now come on; I have a few ideas where she could have gone.”

As they turned to begin their search, the MP reached out for them, “Hey, hey! I can’t just let you go off like th–”

“Oh, tell it to someone who cares!” Dainty blew him off with a dismissive wave before haring off. Cornwallis gave the MP a pitying look before shrugging and following the destroyer in search of her sister.
***
When night fell, there was still no sign of Delight. Devonport had been searched over twice and still there was no news of the little destroyer. Dainty was practically beside herself, evident in the way she second-guessed every idea regarding her whereabouts. Eventually, Holloway had ordered her back to her quarters. For a chilling moment, Cornwallis thought she would refuse.

Then Warspite had stepped in.

A short, private conversation had followed. What exactly had been exchanged between the two of them, no one knew, but Dainty was willing to be escorted back to her room. Warspite was picked for that particular duty in case she had a change of heart.

So too, was Cornwallis.

They had walked in silence all the way until her room, when Cornwallis had said, “You’re really worried about her.”

“You’re not?” she muttered darkly.

“Of course I am,” Cornwallis replied indignantly, “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen–”

“But it has anyway,” Dainty cut him off sharply, before shooting him another poisonous glare. “That girl’s thought of you as honest to god -family- ever since you appeared. Why, I can’t fathom for the life of me as all you’ve ever given her in return is ignorance and now, this.”

Cornwallis bristled, “I never -asked- for her attention, girl.”

Warspite chose that moment to clear her throat, reminding the pair that she was still there.

“Is there something I should know regarding the current situation?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

Cornwallis sighed, “I… may have told her I’d take her into the city for the day and told her to wait.”

“While he blew her off to read some dumb magazine,” Dainty added, folding her arms and fixing the old battleship with another pointed look.

“Yes! Fine!” Cornwallis cried, throwing up his arms. “I did! I admit it! But I never -once- imagined that anything like -this- might occur!”

“Which makes it all better, right?” Dainty growled.

“Enough.”

Warspite hadn’t raised her voice an iota, but the level of authority injected into her tone was such that it instantly cowed both of them.

“Cornwallis, I’m considerably disappointed in you,” Warspite said to him, her expression stern, before turning to Dainty, “but this aggression must cease immediately, Dainty. It aids no one–least of all your sister.”

Dainty opened her mouth, no doubt to retort, but whatever she was about to say withered under Warspite’s gaze. She settled for folding her arms and harrumphing instead.

“That’s hardly the attitude,” Warspite said with a frown, “but, considering the circumstances, I don’t suppose I can fault you too much.” She looked back up to Cornwallis, “You should head back and continue to help out with the search effort. I’ll remain with Dainty in the event she decides to do something rash.”

“As you say,” Cornwallis acknowledged with a sombre nod. Before he turned to leave, he fixed Dainty with one last look.

“For what it’s worth, Dainty,” he told her, “I -am- truly sorry, and we are going to find her.”

He didn’t wait for a response, simply carrying on his way out of the shipgirl quarters.
***
“All well and good giving off a noble spiel,” Cornwallis grumbled as he wandered through the dimly lit streets, passing a massive car park and a small football field, “but no one has any clue where that little ragamuffin might be.”

He stopped and cupped his face with both hands before dragging them down.

“Oh my God,” he groaned, feeling as old as he appeared. He’d been at the search for two hours now, and unless Delight had somehow developed the ability to camouflage herself like a chameleon, she couldn’t be in Devonport. They had also verified through security footage that she hadn’t run off into the English Channel.

So that just left Plymouth.

Unfortunately, Plymouth was a very big place, and there wasn’t any easy way of conducting a search with Devonport’s sizeable complement of MPs without tipping the bloodhounds in the press off that something was amiss. Thus, the search was primarily up to him and the shipgirls.

He groaned again, continuing down the road. A short row of trees lined the edge of the pavement to his right, and beyond them was a river that fed into Weston Mill Lake, which itself fed into the River Tamar that fed into the Channel. Before him was a part of the railway line that ran through the dockside area. As he passed under the bridge, he felt a great rumbling, which was soon followed by a great, keening howl as a train sped on by overhead.

“Oh my God!” he groaned again as he pressed his hands to his ears to drown out the screaming locomotive. A hundred years of technological achievements and those awful contraptions were just as hellishly noisy as ever. It soon passed, but as he lowered his hands to regain his senses, he thought he caught something else.

It sounded like a whimper…

Immediately, he determined the direction: it had come from the riverside, from behind one of the bridge supports if he had to hazard a guess. It was dark out there, however, and he manifested his fit-out with a thought and activated his searchlights, which cut through the darkness like a spear tip through flesh.

“Delight?” he called out, cautiously making his way through the treeline. He ducked under a low branch and walked carefully down the riverbank towards the source of the muted cry. In short order he reached the abutment and peered around the corner.

There, huddled up to herself in a dirt-streaked blue strapless sundress, was Delight. She was shaking so much Cornwallis could almost -feel- the vibrations in the air, and even though her head was buried in between her knees, he could tell the poor girl was having a miserable time.

The sight was… shocking. Was this the same girl who was so eager to see him that she almost bowled him over each morning? Was this the same girl who went about each day with a dopey smile and nary a bad word to say about anyone? All at once the guilt returned in force, almost crushing him. How on earth could he have driven such a pure creature to such a state?

“You poor thing,” he croaked, approaching her and taking the shivering destroyer girl into his embrace. Good God! She was -freezing-. “It’s okay. It’s okay… grandpa’s here now.”

“G-g-g-grandp-pa?” she called. Her voice sounded so small; so tired; so utterly unlike the girl he’d seen just earlier this same day.

“I-I’m c-c-cold,” she whimpered.

“I know,” Cornwallis nodded, as he lifted her up, cradling her in his thick, muscular arms. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you nice and warm soon enough.”

“I-I-I…” she stuttered.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

“I-I’m s-s-s-sorryyy,” Delight moaned. “I d-d-didn’t w-w-wait f-for you. I’m a b-b-b-bad girl…” she choked, and began to cry.

That was it. Cornwallis felt his heart rend. He’d caused this–however indirectly–and this poor, naïve, kind creature couldn’t even muster up an iota blame for him. He felt a tear leak from the corner of one eye, and almost crushed her against him in an effort to hug her even closer.

“Don’t be daft you silly thing,” he murmured, barely stifling a sniffle. “You’re a good girl. Far too good for the likes of me.”

Delight didn’t reply, and Cornwallis noticed that she had fallen asleep–or passed out. Panic froze him, until he saw–and felt–that her breathing was steady. He released a shaky chuckle as he stepped out from the treeline and began the walk back to Devonport.

 “Good girl.”