Operation Rumor Mill

by DeltaDestroys01

A codebreaker and his ship girl companion are tasked to hunt down and destroy siren superweapons that are holding humanity in a deadlock. Though these superweapons are secretive in their own right perhaps something more sinister will get to humanity first? Or maybe there is a link between threats? Rated M to give myself breathing room in the creative process; adult themes mainly.

8. Chapter 8:The Battle of Windward Passage

I would really like to thank the people who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. I wish I could meet all of you. But enough of that let's get on with the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Azur Lane or any other properties I make references to.

"Almighty God, most merciful Father, we make our address to thy Devine Majesty that Thou wouldst take the cause into thine own hand, and judge between us and our enemies."

-Chaplain aboard the HMS King George V the night before engaging the Bismarck

Chapter 8: The Battle of Windward Passage

Commander did as he was ordered and reported to Rear Admiral Slade's office at the appointed hour. As he entered the outer office that had the secretary ship's desk, he found West Virginia giving Nevada a run down of the things she was going to have to do as the acting secretary ship for the week or so that the fleets were gone. Both battleships stopped what they were doing and looked at the entering officer. He wished them both good morning and they returned it. He asked if the Admiral was already in. West Virginia nodded and gestured for him to move on ahead. He knocked on the door and was invited in.

He saluted and said, "Good morning Admiral."

The only pleasantries that she would spare him is by saying, "Good morning, Commander. Let's get right down to business." She stepped out from behind her desk and approached a map of the surrounding sea that was hanging on the side of her office.

She gathered in her hand a few different colored pins for reference and she began her strategy for the upcoming battle, "As I'm sure you can guess the main advantage that we have in this is that we have advance warning and thus, time to prepare for the Siren fleet. Thanks for that, by the way." Commander nodded to accept her gratitude and she continued. "It seems that the Sirens are wanting to destroy the convoy that is coming up from South America," she placed a few arrow-shaped green pins that pointed northward on the map coming from the south to move between Cuba and Haiti, "so that they can lure the fleet anchored here at South Point out and destroy us. What I have planned is that the main fleet under myself with Hornet, Lexington, West Virginia, and a handful of smaller escorts will hold off of the eastern coast of Jamaica, sailing around the western tip of Cuba to get there." She placed a large blue pin also pointed northward. "At the appointed time, about twelve hours before the Sirens intend to be launching their first strike against the convoy," she placed a red pin, "we will launch our first air strike and force a carrier duel. Since we are only up against mass production ships, I don't expect it to be too much of a problem for ship girls, but still, we have to be careful. Do you follow me so far?"

"Yes, I follow you, but I see a few big things that can go wrong."

Slade had anticipated this because she hadn't explained everything yet. In fact, she would be concerned if he didn't find fault. "What do you see?" tested the more experienced sailor.

"If the main fleet gets spotted and then reported by a Siren patrol or submarine, the element of surprise is lost, and the battle becomes that much harder. I can decipher submarine deployment orders, to guide us through the proverbial minefield, but I get the feeling that I won't be attached to the main fleet off of Jamaica. How are you going to avoid detection?"

Admiral Slade smiled and replied, "That's exactly what I hoped you would say. As part of the main fleet, we will have an escort carrier named, "Bogue," who is our local sub hunting expert. She's quite talented at detecting and sinking submarines in record time. We might not get into position as finessed as your fleet, but Bogue will see us through. Now, I expect that the Sirens will then divert their whole attention to the main fleet, thus letting the convoy go. We're going to fight them, and they're going to fight us, and we're going to win. The question then becomes, 'By how much will we win?' But before we get to that, what else did you see?"

"Why the western tip of Cuba? It'll take you right into the enemy's path with neither side being prepared."

"I'll explain that with your job." Slade then grabbed one last blue marker and she continued with her explanation. "The second fleet under yourself is going to sail separately from the main fleet, going along the northern coast of Cuba toward your post in the Gulf of Gonave, which makes up the west coast of Haiti, specifically you will be posted just off the north shore of Gonave Island in the middle of the gulf. Right here," and she speared the poor map one last time, "But, if for one reason or another you don't feel comfortable off Gonave Island you don't have to worry too much about finding another spot, Siren submarine patrols don't go into the gulf hardly at all. But it goes unsaid, I expect you to get into position unnoticed. On that same note, I except you to maintain radio silence at all times. The main fleet taking the western path means that if either of us gets detected, which I feel is unlikely given the timing, it won't compromise our whole strength and more importantly it won't compromise how lightly defended the base will be while we're out. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am. But what am I doing there? And aren't the Haitians—or Jamaicans, for that matter—mad about foreign vessels in their territorial waters?"

Slade was able to dismiss Commander's concerns by reporting, "That's where the politicians are finally doing their jobs. As the largest navy fighting the Sirens in the Western Hemisphere the Eagle Union can sail just about anywhere it pleases in the Americas. But as for what you're doing, your mission is to mop up any fleeing Siren ships, but conditionally. If the Sirens flee north, east, or south, you are to pursue them and destroy them, while the main fleet keeps up the pressure, or breaks off to sink the others, should the Sirens divide their forces. For this purpose, you are going to be assigned a fleet that is much faster than the main fleet, but we'll get to what ships specifically are under your command in a bit. If they flee west, the main fleet will do the pursuing and you will return to port. Do you have any questions or comments?"

Commander thought for a moment and then a concern came to mind, "Are we going to do anything with the Convoy, like warn them or divert them?"

"Once the fighting starts, I intend to order them to divert for Puerto Rico in the east. I would divert them to Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic or Kingston in Jamaica if there were less ships in the convoy so it could fit in those harbors. Anything else other than the ships under your command?"

Commander shook his head, feeling that the plan was straightforward enough, "No, ma'am. I understand what's going on."

Slade smiled just a bit and said, "Good. The ships under your command are the obvious Nashville, who is the flag ship of your fleet, you will then have her sister Honolulu, then Denver and Memphis. Indianapolis and Northampton will be your heaviest guns. Then you will have four destroyers: Laffey, Charles Ausburne, Aulick, and Cassin. This should be more than enough for anything that comes up. Is that everything?"

Commander thought and then asked, "I can guess pretty easily what the best-case scenario is, but what's the worst-case scenario?"

Slade's gaze darkened and she said, "Worst case, other than everyone sinking, is that this is the beginning of an event."

"An event?"

Slade explained, "Every now and then the Sirens will make a more concerted push against human fleets. These offensives are called, 'events.' They usually get palmed off to whatever ship girl command is unfortunate enough to discover the event first. An event is nothing but trouble. Is there anything else?"

Commander held his hands in front of himself to show non-confrontation but there was a question on his mind that he felt would be best asked now. "I have a question of a personal nature. Is it alright to ask it now?"

Slade looked to the clock in her office and thought for a moment. They were ahead of schedule so far. She motioned for the younger officer to follow her back to her desk. She sat down, and so did he. She reminisced of their last meeting in her office. Things could have gone so much worse than they did, but still for some reason she felt the need to help the fledgling officer in front of her desk, even if he could order her to do just about anything. She considered what worked and what didn't when ship girls wanted to talk to her about personal matters. She opened her mouth and said, "Right now, I'm just Keisha Slade. The Rear admiral is out. So, what's going on Las Vegas?"

Commander thought that Slade would be guarded for what he wanted to ask. He'd wager that what he would say would hit a bit close to home for the rear admiral looking at him. He shoved any nay-thoughts to the side and asked, "I want to know; what is your opinion on ship girls? Are they human in your eyes?"

She didn't have to answer. But nevertheless, this man had put in words one of the questions that Keisha Slade had been tackling with on and off for nearly a year and a half now, since she got assigned to this base. What did she think of ship girls? If she were honest, she tried not to think that much about it. Ship girls are ship girls. Isn't that answer enough? But are they human? Can they be human? She really wanted to believe that they could but there was something off. Something different, that could never be compensated for. With her thoughts presently undecided she returned the question, "Well, what do you think?"

"I think that they're human. I see too much humanity in them to say anything else," said the commander plainly. Slade envied him for a moment. He could see clearly, yet she couldn't.

Keisha Slade was a naturally reserved woman who played her cards close to her chest. When it came to military action, she was known to be quite shrewd and decisive. But in this moment, things of the heart aren't best helped with shrewdness and decisiveness has fled her. She decided to start throwing things against the wall to see what stuck. She started, "I don't know. I really don't know. I mean, I want to say yes. I wish I was as sure as you are. I wish I could say for certain that they are human. But…God," she paused before deciding the best way to proceed, for some reason stopping didn't occur to her, maybe because she hasn't had anybody to discuss this with before. She continued after a minute of thought, "I'm such a hypocrite. My great granddad was a Harlem Hellfighter, fighting under another country's flag because his own didn't want him under theirs. My granddad served in a segregated marine corps in World War II. My dad, for serving thirty years in the marines, never could get above the rank of Gunnery Sergeant. And here I am. A black woman that's a Rear admiral leading ships that are now living beings. I'm just like the white officers that spitefully led my own family. It doesn't make sense." And she trailed off.

Commander would have normally been content to wait and watch but he felt that he had to help. He said, "I think that one of the greatest questions of all time is, 'Can people really change?' I think that they can. I think that they can learn too. I think I can speak for the both of us when I say that there is still much to learn and even more to change."

Slade got back on track, she had to admit to the inferior officer, "You're right. There's much to do. Did you always think like you do about ship girls being human?"

"No, I didn't. But that changed when I saw Nashville and Honolulu meet on the dock a few days ago. I saw the spark that made me understand what was in front of me."

"I guess, I just haven't had that spark," admitted Slade, "But I really wish that things could change with how my regulations say I have to treat them."

"You're referring to the scrapping, right?" confirmed Commander.

"Yeah, that's it. I and many have filed complaints to the navy. Can't they see it's not helping?" Then Slade looked at her clock. They didn't have any more time to keep chatting away, as much as it interested her. She sighed heavily and said, "Commander Las Vegas, the Rear admiral just got back. We should get moving."

Commander checked his own watch and confirmed that the time to get final checklists and fleet assignments done was nearly upon them. Both stood but the admiral said one last thing before he moved for the door. She said, "Thanks, Commander. You've given me a lot to think about. Maybe, you aren't as bad as I first thought."

Commander smiled and lightly joked, "I do aim to please."

XXXXXXXX

The walk to the mess hall, where everyone had been ordered to gather, was dead quiet. Commander suspected that Slade had things on her mind, while West Virginia and Nevada didn't offer anything probably because Slade wasn't. He didn't mind the quiet, so it stayed.

They arrived to find that the mess hall was populated with about thirty people, but not thirty voices. Still, West Virginia called out, "Attention Admiral on deck!" All rose and saluted.

Slade saluted back and said, "Please be seated." She also gestured for West Virginia, Nevada, and Commander to sit down too. They did, and she got started, "As you all know, this is when fleets get assigned. There will be two; the first fleet will be under myself, and the second fleet will be under Commander Las Vegas. So, here's the assignments," she took out a sheet of paper and started to read off, "In the first fleet there will be Hornet, Lexington, West Virginia, Bogue, Pensacola, Vincennes, Helena, Montpelier, Atlanta, Craven, Hamman, and Eldridge. West Virginia is the flagship. In the second fleet there will be Indianapolis, Northampton, Nashville, Honolulu, Denver, Memphis, Laffey, Charles Ausburne, Aulick, and Cassin. Nashville is the flagship. The rest of you are going to remain here on medium alert, in case the Sirens try anything while the rest of us are gone. Nevada is the acting secretary ship so follow her orders. Are there any questions?" There were none so she gave her final order of the occasion, "Okay then. It's about 0815. Both fleets set sail in forty-five minutes, so complete any final preparations that need to be done and be on your hulls by 0900. Do you understand?"

The ship girls of Naval Station South Point and their guests chorused, "Yes ma'am."

"Good. You're all dismissed," she ordered, and she saluted one last time, which was promptly returned. And those assigned to leave went towards the docks.

Arriving on the docks the first fleet followed Slade all the way until she had arrived at around West Virginia's gangway. Then she dispensed with an order or two that was too far away for Commander to hear and they separated to do their final preparations. Commander looked around briefly as he approached the gangway to Nashville's hull. The second fleet was following him. He supposed that it was standard procedure. After arriving at Nashville's gangway, he stopped and turned around, not knowing what was expected of him. He saw Nashville smile. It's like she knew how much her smiling put him at ease. He opened his mouth, courtesy of the confidence his friend gave him, and said, "I get the feeling that this is an informal little meeting, so I'll keep this simple. Our destination is in the Gulf of Gonave in Haiti. We've been ordered to sail along the northern coast of Cuba to get there. So, what's the ideal cruising speed for every-," he cut himself off, a new idea coming to mind. He continued, "On second thought, I have a question. Is in uncomfortable to have rigging active at all times?" Nobody answered, so he said, "This is a general question. Any one of you can answer."

Denver decided to answer. She replied, "It's not uncomfortable at all. Why do you ask?"

He smiled a little and explained, "I was wondering if we can get all nine of you aboard Nashville's hull. That way we can hide our numbers with only one hull in the water, move more stealthily, and through no fault of yours," he waved between the nine he was addressing, "Nashville does have a pretty high cruising speed. I want thoughts. Feel free to tell me, 'no.'"

Honolulu answered for the group by saying, "It's possible to store our riggings in a physical location without it being on us. So, if there's a place where we can store our riggings, we can move freely around on board and your question about comfort becomes irrelevant."

Commander stroked his chin and said, "Interesting. I didn't know you could do that. Okay then. Any objections to doing that?" Nobody objected, so he gave his order, "We'll leave the port like normal but once we lose sight of land and any other non-military vessels, I want all of you to come aboard and we'll get you lot situated. I'll give you all a rundown of what our mission is then. Are there any questions or comments?" Nobody spoke so Commander made a joke hoping to loosen some tongues. "Don't speak all at once okay?"

Amused smiles went around most of the fleet and it was the perpetually tired bunny eared sometimes sober Laffey answered, "Never heard of traveling in one hull before, probably."

Denver seconded that, "She's right, I've never heard of that before. I think it's pretty clever."

Commander congratulated himself in his mind but outwardly he said, "Excellent. In that case I leave you all to getting your final preparations done. You're all dismissed." Salutes were given and the fleet separated leaving Nashville and Commander. Then he realized something, so he turned to Nashville and started to speak, "Oh crap. I just had a thought. I should have run the idea of having the fleet travel on your hull by you first. I'm sorry. I'll run stuff like that by you from now on."

Nashville grinned and was reminded why she liked having her commander. He didn't have double standards. In this instance she remembered her apology for not reporting the convoy off Panama, and here he was giving his own for, "inconveniencing," her. She said, "I didn't raise any objections, so it'll be alright. But I appreciate that you'll float ideas like this by me in the future. Now come on. Let's get our own checklist complete."

She started up gangway and she snapped up. Commander asked, "What's up?"

She whipped around and excitedly requested, "Can I ask you to wait here while I grab my camera and radio my sisters for a photo before we set sail?"

Commander smiled to himself and consented. Nashville zoomed off for her camera. Nashville got back first, and she turned her camera on and did a last-minute check of the settings. She had been tweaking them all last night, familiarizing herself with them. Helena and Honolulu came at the same time and Nashville rushed over to practically drag them along to speed them up. Once in a spot that she considered appropriate she handed her camera to Commander and asked, "Can you take a picture of the three of us?"

He smiled and nodded. Nashville was joyous as she went to stand between her sisters, throwing her arms around them. He didn't even have to tell them to smile. Once he saw that they were ready he said, "Alrighty then. Here we go," and he snapped the photo. A quick inspection later and he said, "It's one for the album."

Then Nashville surprised him, and in all honesty what she said next shouldn't have. "Awesome. Thanks, so much Commander," and she let her sisters out from under her arms, "Now can one of you snap a photo with me and my commander?" Honolulu looked surprised, but Helena didn't, so the latter collected the camera and motioned for Commander to replace the sisters where they stood. He approached and Nashville realized that throwing her arm around her commander might not be proper. Who was she kidding? The commander was her friend, so she would treat him as such. He got close enough and she threw her arm around his shoulder. He was surprised again, pleasantly so. His own arm naturally fell to rest on her shoulder, all the while making sure to remain respectful. Helena noted that she didn't have to tell them to smile. Still, she went through the typical semantics and snapped the photo.

She gave it a once over with Honolulu. Both of them saw something, it looked like the commander and their sister was a couple, but they didn't comment on that. Instead, Honolulu said, "I think it looks great. But I really should be getting back to what I was doing." She gave Helena and then Nashville a hug and said goodbye. Commander got a, "See you later."

Helena also said goodbye to Nashville and gave her a hug but then she asked, "Nashville, can I talk to your commander? Alone?"

Nashville didn't know how she felt about that. It seemed okay on the surface, and this was her own sister, but she didn't like the alone part. What could this be about? She would have to grill Las Vegas about it later. She gave the go ahead, said her goodbye, and ascended her gangway.

Commander turned to Helena and her face took on an expression of sadness. She said, "Commander Las Vegas, can you please promise me that no matter what happens, you'll take care of my sisters?"

Commander was concerned now and replied, "What's this all about? You'll be able to take care of them yourself once we get back."

She shook her head slowly and said, "I want to be sure that they'll be okay. I didn't survive World War II. So, I couldn't take care of them then, and if I sink again, I want, no, I need to be sure that they'll be taken care of. Can you promise me that you'll do that?"

Commander considered the humble request from a fearful sister and replied softly, "I promise that I'll take care of your sisters. To the upmost of my abilities and to my last breath I'll take care of them," Helena let out a sigh of relief, but Commander had more to say, "But in return, I want you to promise that you won't sink. Sounds good?"

Helena smiled, some of her fears allayed. "That sounds good to me. I promise I won't sink."

Her smile wasn't too convincing. So, Commander had to press the advantage. "Listen to me very carefully. Everything is going to be okay. It might be hard, but we'll pull through."

Helena knew that there were tons of reasons why this commander didn't know what he was talking about. Anything goes in a battle. And ships with her luck often go to the bottom. But she found herself believing the commander in spite of all this. She was calm now and felt courage build within her. Is this how Nashville feels when he talks to her? Whatever the case may be, of all officers that could have possibly been here instead of Las Vegas, she was glad that it was him. She trusted him, even though she had known him for less than three days. But she had taken long enough, she still had things to do before they left. She said, "Okay Commander, I believe you. But I should get going now. Goodbye and smooth sailing."

He smiled to her and said, "Same to you. I look forward to seeing you in another week or so." Helena walked away for her own hull and once she was out of sight Commander ascended Nashville's gangway and walked to the bridge to get this operation started.

XXXXXXXX

With the arrangement that had been made for the fleet to travel aboard Nashville's hull they made very good time to Gonave Island, arriving there after only a day and a half of sailing. During that time a few things occurred. Commander had endeared himself to most of the fleet already aboard. The only ship girl that didn't speak to him was Northampton. It didn't seem to the commander that she hated him, but rather preferred quiet. So, he didn't find it his duty to force her. The collective fleet had been surprised how things operated aboard Nashville. Commander and Nashville passed much time jovially laughing and spending time together. It helped them be more comfortable. This comfort was further assisted when Commander and Nashville decided that the fleet would be treated more as guests than anything else. Commander was able to distinguish himself as a cook to the ship girls who had never had a, "home cooked," meal.

Privately though, things were not all peaches and cream. Based on the reports gathered, Nashville and Commander could determine that both fleets were well within the range of the superweapon's lightning bolts. They also found that these lightning bolts were not sudden instances, they came from storms and were hugely noticeable for a few seconds before they struck. At least they seemed to be out of range of the freak vortexes. If the superweapon could strike this far out, why weren't more ships sunk? How did it aim? What were it's limits? Hopefully, the battle would give some insight. And hopefully it didn't sink anybody or even become a player on this field. Then concerning the cult, they couldn't ascertain anything immediately useful, so on account of it's inherent creepiness they matter was shelved for after the operation, when a more thorough analysis of it's sonnet could be conducted.

So, with nothing to do but wait and watch for a couple days they found their own routines. Card games became common among the passengers while Nashville stayed alert on her radar and other sensors. Commander made sure that their cover was never blown by monitoring the radio intercepts, guiding them through submarine patrols. But about six hours before the operation was slated to begin with the first fleet launching it's first strike, things started to go wrong.

Nashville and Commander were on the bridge, metal music playing softly as they both went about their business. Nashville felt something, it was the huff-duff. It detected radio traffic from the north-west, towards the Windward Passage that they passed through to get where they were. She reported, "Sir, huff-duff just detected a lengthy radio message from the Windward Passage."

Not a second later the intercepted message appeared on Mr. Bond's holographic display. "I just got it," replied the codebreaker. He took a look at it. The format didn't lend itself to any standard orders. These were special. "It doesn't look like a submarine or raider order, let me probe it with my known keys and try to brute force it a bit." He did. With each passing minute he was able to cross one key after another off the list. His apprehension grew. He prayed that it wasn't what he thought it was. He finally tried a brute force attack on the cypher. It didn't work. It seemed that this operation just got a whole lot more hazardous. He solemnly looked to Nashville and she looked perturbed. He reported while trying to conceal any fear in his voice, "It's the code of the main Siren fleet. I can't decipher it."

Nashville's eyes widened. She had gotten used to having Las Vegas around, so that they were able to know what the enemy was going to do. But when that advantage evaded them, she felt more vulnerable than she had in a very long time. She wasn't able to respond. Commander asked her, "Do you detect any fleet on radar?"

She shook her head, "It's possible that the islands are blocking radar signals."

Commander thought for a moment. Their new biggest priority was to find the location of the enemy fleet and it's composition. He considered what Nashville said. The Siren fleet wasn't on radar, so it had to be presently behind some island, either Cuba or the northern peninsula marking the end of the Gulf of Gonave. She said that the message came from the northwest, so that made the peninsula due north of them unlikely.

His thought froze, something occurring to him, they might die if they fight this enemy. He didn't want to die, he wasn't ready to die, and the thought of it happening filled him with a fear he hadn't experienced before. He started to panic in silence. His breathing picked up, his heart started to beat it's way out of his chest, and he started to sweat. He would have lost himself to despair if a tender voice hadn't reached out to him, "Commander…Las Vegas… You there?" His eyes snapped to Nashville's. She was smiling at him tenderly. "You just realized what's at stake huh? And I don't mean anything strategic. You know that we might die." He nodded numbly, terror still in his heart. She walked over to right in front of her commander, her friend, and she started to speak, "I still remember what you said that day when you asked me to be your friend. You said that I didn't have to be alone and that you meant it when you said that we're in this together. So, let me say this because you don't listen to your own words. You're not alone in this. I'm here with you until the end, even if the end is on the seabed or in a victory parade. So please," she leaned down and put her arms around the fearful officer, "don't be afraid. We'll need each other if there is to be any hope now or in the future."

He hugged her back and his fears ebbed away like the receding tides. Confidence, and even courage, took fear's place. He calmed himself down, and Nashville was able to notice this, he said, "Thanks, Nashville. I can't say thanks enough. I feel a lot better now."

"Good," she retorted as she broke off the embrace, "We're all gonna need you in top shape to win this. And no, running is not an option, so what we need to do is get a plan together of how we're gonna beat the Sirens."

"Okay then. Do you think that we can be sure that the enemy fleet's objective is to form up with the fleet that Slade's force is about to engage?"

"Intuition says that they are. What else is important enough to warrant a top security code?"

"Good point," conceded Commander, "Well, go on the intercom and give the order for the fleet to assemble here on the bridge. Our map here on the navigation table will help us plan this."

Nashville wasn't surprised that Commander wanted to include the fleet in his planning. She went on the intercom and gave the order, "There's been a development in the situation. Commander Las Vegas wants y'all's presence on the bridge." Nashville felt as the fleet started to move from their various idle locations from inside her to head for her bridge. Commander stood from his chair to move it out of the way so that the whole table around the navigation chart could be clear. He started to stroke his chin, looking for a plan.

The ship girls of the fleet trickled into the bridge. Any amount of jovial energy was lost as those entering saw the commander's serious expression. A few minutes passed, and they were all present. He decided to start the explanation from the top, "A few minutes ago, we detected an encoded Siren message from the Windward passage that we passed through to get here. This encoded message used the main Siren fleet code, so I wasn't able to decipher it." A few concerned or downright fearful looks went around and then Commander continued, "But, given what's going on, it's safe to assume that their objective is to join up with the Siren fleet that will be attacked by the main fleet in about six hours. We weren't detected and we can assume that Admiral Slade wasn't either, so we know that the Sirens still don't know that we're here. In order to make sure that the enemy carrier fleet isn't reinforced, thus possibly overwhelming the main fleet, we're going to engage the reinforcing Siren fleet between here and Cuba, either driving them off or sinking them. Are there any questions so far?"

For one of the few times since he had met her Northampton made her voice known, "Do we know what types of ships are in their fleet? And how many?"

Commander replied, "We don't know either of those. But once we get them on radar, we can at least answer how many there are. But anyway, I ordered you all here so that we can get a plan together for how we're gonna do this. Now come on, gather around." He waved them over to the navigation table that he stood over. It was a pretty cool electronic interface that was actually a screen that showed the map, instead of a physical map. They gathered around and he started to elaborate on his plan once he was sure that everyone could see the table, "We expect that the Sirens are going to make the logical choice in order to join up with their aircraft carrier fleet by sailing along the southern coast of Cuba." He drew a red arrow on the touch screen going along said coast in a westward bearing. "The first objective that we have is to stop them from going in the direction that they want. In order to do this, we're gonna divide this fleet into two squadrons. The first squadron is going to sail out ahead of the enemy fleet to cross the, 'T,' and destroy the lead vessels who will be so kind as to serve as a makeshift barrier to stop the fleet behind them as they are sinking." He drew a blue line in front of and perpendicular to the red arrow, and then continued, "The second squadron will be flanking the enemy from the south which will force them against either our guns and torpedoes or the Cuban coastline." He drew another blue line only this time parallel to the enemy fleet. "This flanking maneuver is going to be covered from the enemy broadsides by the sheer rate of fire given by the first squadron. Now onto the more specifics."

Before he moved on, he looked to the assembled ship girls, trying to determine who would be best to lead the second squadron. He didn't know Indianapolis or Northampton well enough to expect leadership, nor did they strike him as leader types. Honolulu was too independent. Memphis too prideful. Nashville was with him in the first squadron. The destroyers were the same as the heavy cruisers, except maybe Charles Ausburne. But he had a better alternative. He started up again, "The first squadron is going to be comprised of Northampton, Honolulu, Memphis, Nashville, and Indianapolis. The first squadron's formation is going to be in that same order as we cross the, 'T.' And Memphis," she turned her attention from the map to Commander, "I expect that a well-timed and accurate torpedo spread from your part will be instrumental in halting the enemy. But fire those torpedoes on my order only." She puffed out her chest and gave a big nod. He then looked to the destroyers, pointed at them, and said, "You lot are in squadron two. Your objective as the flanking force is to close with the enemy for a torpedo run. Prioritize capital ships, nobody here has guns big enough to sink them as reliably as a torpedo. Aircraft carriers are the highest priority, followed by battleships. From there fire as you see fit." He looked at Denver and smiled, "Denver, Can I trust you to lead squadron two?"

The knight of the sea looked surprised. She looked down at the map for a few seconds. Her eyes rose to meet the commander's. They were filled with determination. She said with confidence, "You can count on me, Commander."

Still talking to Denver, he explained her specific duties more, "Outside of leading squadron two you are to cover the destroyers as they make their torpedo run from the smaller ships, or any of the larger ships that aren't falling to squadron one. The order that squadron two is going to sail in is as follows: Charles Ausburne, Cassin, Denver, Aulick, and Laffey. Does everyone follow so far?"

The fleet said in unison, 'Yes sir."

"Excellent. Now, once we get them where we want them, I expect that one of three things can happen. First, if they decide to stand and fight, both squadrons are to prioritize evasion as we whittle down their numbers. If they turn tail to flee from the direction they came from, we'll pursue them up the coast in the same L-shaped formation and expel them the area. But we'll stop pursuing once we get through Windward passage. Finally, and what I expect the most, is that they'll attempt a break-out at the corner of our, 'L.' If this happens, we'll use our collective speed to cut them off and shepherd them, conveniently flanking them on both sides by the now divided fleet, into the Gulf of Gonave, where the battle will become us taking potshots at fish in a barrel, until they are completely destroyed. I'll give the order as to which we will be doing. And I trust that the accuracy of all involved for this double flank will avoid friendly fire incidents. Are there any questions for this part?"

"No sir." stated all.

"Okay then. We'll sail for the operations area immediately following this briefing. We will be heading there as we are now, all in Nashville's hull to throw off possible suspicions until we spring the trap. After all, who would be dumb enough to take on an entire fleet in one cruiser? But once we get started it is paramount that everyone gets in position as fast as possible. The lowest top speed on this bridge is just over thirty-two knots so it shouldn't be a problem. Can anyone see any flaws in this plan?"

Nobody answered for a few seconds. Commander high-fived himself internally before he said, "One last thing. There are reports of freak lightning strikes sinking ships in this area. But they only appear in storms and are apparently quite noticeable before they strike. Pay attention to the north if the weather turns sour, and if you see a bolt that even might be coming your way, drop what you're doing and evade it the best you can."

"Lightning bolts?" asked a now somewhat suspicious Honolulu. Everyone looked at him as if he grew a second head.

"There is no known explanation. Regardless, there are friendly reports of it happening. For all we know, the Sirens have something up their sleeve." This was the most that Commander was going to say without oaths of secrecy, so he left it at that. "Can anyone think of anything else?"

Silence ruled the bridge of the Nashville. So, Commander gave the order, "Let's get going. Nashville," she perked up and listened, "Set course for Guantanamo Bay. We have enough head start that we can go at cruising speed to not arouse so much suspicion."

XXXXXXXX

And so, they sailed. The united fleet had requested that the passage be undertaken with all aboard on the bridge. Commander consented, and so did Nashville. The only problem was seating, but it was a minor issue. Three hours into sailing toward the Cuban coast Nashville got Commander's—and everyone else's'—attention by saying, "Sir, the radar just picked up the fleet. I count thirty ships. While I can't tell you the exact composition, I definitely detect three ships that are big enough to be battleships or aircraft carriers."

Commander thought for a moment and said, "The plan still stands. Maintain your present course. However, to all here, if there are any better ideas than what we have right now, this is the time to voice them." Nobody did.

Five minutes later Nashville had something to report, "The radar detector just picked up enemy radar. They know that we're here."

Commander asked, "Have they done anything in response to our presence?"

"No sir. They're maintaining course and speed along the coast. I think that they either aren't taking us seriously, or they think we don't know that they're here."

Commander looked around to all present. They were looking back at him. He wanted to ask if there were any other ideas on the bridge that might get them out of this situation. Confidence and determination showed on the faces of his fleet. He wondered briefly what his face showed. But ultimately, he understood that try as he might, he couldn't run from his own story. This was it. He ordered, "Maintain course, Nashville."

"Aye sir."

An hour from the start of the battle the Sirens attempted to move the obstacle that had come before them without giving themselves away. A radio message was intercepted from the Siren fleet. It used the standard Azur Lane cypher. Commander groaned. He was going to have to tell somebody about the security breach. The message was orders to vacate the area and report to the convoy south for escort duty. "Should we respond sir?" asked Nashville, "I think it will be suspicious if we don't."

"You're right," conceded Commander, "Any ideas of what we should tell them?"

Honolulu laughed softly, "We should tell them to fuck off."

Muffled laughter floated around the bridge. Commander didn't even have to think, "Do it." If this was to be his last practical joke, at least it was a good one.

The message was sent, no response was received. So, they waited and sailed. The Siren fleet changed speed to go faster, not that it mattered for them. If commander or anyone had to guess, that meant that the main fleet was starting it's battle. It was fifteen minutes before they would spring the trap when Commander started to speak to all present, "I'm not much for speeches or pep-talks so I'll keep this brief. You all know what the job is, and you all know what the stakes are. So, I'd like to give one last order before we get started: survive. We left Miami with ten ships so by God, we better get back there with ten ships," he paused looking for inspiration, which came so he proceeded to say, "Be of good courage my friends. We are prepared, and the enemy is not. We are determined to fight for our home and world, and they are not. I know that we can do this. Now, clear the bridge. Get your riggings and standby for my order to deploy." They saluted, chorused affirmatives, and left the bridge. He looked to Nashville and said much more quietly, "If this goes south and we don't make it out, I want you to know it was an honor to have met and served with you, even if only for a short time."

Nashville put on a courageous face and retorted, "Wow. You're dramatic. It'll be fine. Just you wait and see."

Fifteen minutes passed. Radar had the Sirens at just over the horizon. They hadn't fired yet, probably hoping to close then sink their obstacle to attract less attention and minimize the risk of a distress signal being sent. Little did they know that this would be their undoing, for it would cost them their range advantage. Commander turned to Nashville and ordered her into battle, "Let's do this." She was hyped. Commander took up the microphone for the intercom. He gave a one-word order to the fleet, "Deploy."

Nine rigged ship girls, the unsung heroes of humanity, vaulted over the railing of their flagship and rushed to their positions. There was no fooling the Siren fleet anymore. These humans were looking for a fight. Commander had commented on the slowest speed in the fleet still exceeding thirty-two knots but north of forty knots were being reached by the ship girls who were using their rigging.

As the fleet were spending those precious minutes to get into position Commander did not let Nashville float idle. "Get a firing solution of the lead enemy. Load armor piercing ammunition." Nashville said nothing but she complied. Her turrets, all five of her six-inch triple turrets and two of her five-inch double turrets rotated to take their aim. The enemy was well within her effective range, so such careful aiming was not necessary. She checked her radar to get the range. All of the things that she needed to take into account were done. She felt her turrets load. She got excited. So did Commander. He had never seen Nashville's broadside before. They were crossing the enemy's, "T," perfectly. He gave the order. "Start with a salvo, then continue with rapid fire."

Nashville obliged and a cacophonous boom and a dense cloud of black smoke erupted from her broadside. They wouldn't have time to see the shells land. Not that it mattered, she knew the range, and she had shells to load and fire in the next six or so seconds. She finished loading and fired again but started to lightly stagger each of her guns so that she could maintain the, in her opinion moderate, fire rate of what was ordered, rapid fire.

Commander looked out in front of him. He saw the three ship girls in front of him do something that amazed him just as much now as when he first saw it leaving Miami. All of their riggings burst from their persons in brilliant displays of small flying wisdom cubes to form their own hulls. With the grace of dancers, they leapt from the water aboard their hulls to begin the plan. He picked up his radio transponder to give the order over Nashville's firing. "Squadron one, open fire." Turrets rotated.

What may have been considered an oddity of shipbuilding when compared to the other navies of the world was the Eagle Union habit of arming their cruisers with more naval artillery and forgoing torpedoes, with exceptions. Considering this, squadron one, comprised of two heavy cruisers and three light cruisers had nearly seventy artillery pieces between them. These pieces ranged in size from five inches to eight inches. No other navy that sailed the seven seas could bring this many guns to bear on this few number of ships. And in this moment, the Sirens knew that. In a few seconds, they would feel it too.

The first united salvo of squadron one was so loud it made Commander's chest feel as if he had been punched. It was an incredible feeling. Just then, Nashville's first salvo landed after about fifteen seconds of flight. It hammered into the destroyer in front of the enemy fleet taking it's front two turrets out of commission and setting a fire aboard from the showering sparks. Her subsequent shots did even more damage and the vessel stopped, started to list, and slowly sank into the water. There was one part of the barrier.

The first shots from the enemy landed among squadron one. This was concerning because it meant that they already had the range figured out. At least because of the well-executed tactic of crossing the T they could only bring their front turrets to bear, while seventy guns stared them down. Commander noted that some of the splashes were enormous. There was no way something less than a battleship could make splashes that big. He gave an order to the squadron over the radio, "Vary your distance with the enemy, but not so much to fall out of formation. They have our range already."

Sporadic, "Yes sir," came to him from his fleet.

As if the rest of squadron one had somehow knew where Nashville was aiming, the volley from the five cruisers landed among the front ranks of the enemy but didn't bother with the already sinking destroyer. Another destroyer was knocked out and sinking, a light cruiser was dead in the water and burning, while a heavy cruiser was on fire but continued with the charge, a final heavy cruiser was missed.

Commander understood that these opening salvoes would determine who won the battle. So far, it seemed to be going well for his fleet. But the Sirens would soon capitalize on the still open flank. He checked the radar looking for squadron two because the window was too obscured by Nashville's firing. "Where are they?" he asked aloud to nobody in particular. His vigilance was rewarded when to his view showed up five blips denoting ships. Squadron two had gotten into position and was rapidly closing to go through with their torpedo run. Relief flooded Commander's mind.

Squadron two's arrival couldn't have come a moment too soon. A scream from Memphis dominated the radio for a sharp moment. It reminded Commander of his mortality. He shouted into the transponder, "Memphis! Damage report!"

"Nothing serious Commander. A battleship's near miss just shook me and sprung a slow leak. Damage control is on it. I'm still A-Okay to fight!"

"Copy that," he said plainly before turning to Nashville and shouting a question, "Does radar pick up any planes?"

"No sir! It looks like they only have battleships! I think we can pull through with this!" responded Nashville. Both Commander and Nashville understood that enemy planes in the air would be bad news for the operation. Lady Luck had smiled upon them.

While the firing continued Commander referred to the radar display again. There were more sinking vessels at the front of the enemy fleet but there weren't enough to stop them. They had to pick this up. He turned again to Nashville to give another order. "Nashville! Continuous fire! Let them have it!"

Continuous fire was a trait afforded only to the Brooklyn-class of light cruisers in the Eagle Union Navy. With fifteen guns aboard this was an option with a higher fire rate than rapid fire. As quickly as possible shells would be loaded and fired. Then it became a question of simple mathematics. Firing ten projectiles per minute per gun provided 150 rounds per minute of six-inch shells. A shot would be fired every four-tenths of a second. This fire rate beat out bofors anti-air cannons. This was the reason that Commander and Nashville decided against torpedoes. They wanted to allow her to spread her wings. She hadn't been able to do this since the second world war.

Nashville grinned evilly. She had waited a very long time for this. "You got it, Commander!" she called out. Her fire rate picked up even more than before. Shots rang out almost at fast as Commander could blink. This carried on for a few seconds and Commander stood there, dumbfounded. Such incredible power was right before him. He now fully understood why the navy was so careful with ship girls. Things could go really bad really quickly with them. He stopped himself from this train of thought. Nashville was his friend. So were all the others in his fleet. He trusted them, and in return they trusted him. He would look out for them, like any good friend or good officer would. They were human, how could he think anything else? They just had a gift, a curse, not afforded to anyone else. And that was the way it was meant to be.

He recovered his wits and checked to see if the barricade was forming. It was, but an ugly problem reared it's head. An enormous geyser of water erupted from nearby Nashville. She made a startled noise and Commander made to peer through the smoke at what had fired at them. It was a battleship. A second blast of black smoke came from the capital ship. It sure looked to Commander like it was coming his way. It was. Only this time, it exploded on a lattice of hexagonal light. It was Indianapolis's Pandora Box! "Nice save Indianapolis! We owe you," declared Commander into the radio. On her ship the ship girl in question grew sheepish for a man that wasn't even in her presence. She didn't think to respond, favoring to maintain firing.

Where was squadron two? "Denver. There is still at least one battleship I see afloat. Report on your progress. How many battleships do you see?"

Denver's voice crackled over the radio, "I see three battleships sir," his stomach sank, "but the destroyers just released their torpedoes in one united volley. The enemy isn't getting anywhere we don't want them."

"Excellent, Denver. Keep up the good work. Make sure the destroyers make it out alive," he switched channels to connect with Memphis, "Fire your torpedoes, Memphis. It's time to stop them cold."

"Aye aye, sir. Feast your eyes on this performance!" declared the light cruiser. And she fired her spread that was aimed for two heavy cruisers that had taken upon themselves the duty of leading through the wreckage of their sinking allies.

The ranges had come together perfectly. As it turned out, Memphis did have some substance with her bombast. She fired a spread of three torpedoes. Two of them detonated against the charging heavy cruisers. They stopped dead in the water. One of them started to nose down into the depths, it's bow in shambles, and it's firing had stopped, probably favoring damage control efforts. The second cruiser was hit just behind the bow in the forward fuel tanks. It didn't explode but it started a blaze of hellfire. It wouldn't survive. It too stopped firing. At the same time, squadron two's torpedoes started to come into play. Two geysers taller than the frontmost battleship's mast rose from beneath it's water line. It slowed yet remained a threat, despite a list to one side. It kept firing, even though one turret had stopped functioning. The second battleship was missed completely. The third battleship wasn't as fortunate as it's allies. Aulick landed two torpedo hits on the front end. Laffey landed three hits on it's rear end. It was Laffey's second torpedo that was the turning point of the battle. It tore through the armored belt of the battleship and punctured it's rear magazine. A few seconds passed and an explosion lifted the forty-thousand-ton vessel out of the water in a monstrous fireball that reached hundreds of feet into the sky. Needless to say, it was loud, louder than anything most present had ever heard. The ship was torn in half and it began to sink.

So far, the battle had gone splendidly. The Siren fleet had been stopped cold by squadron one's shellfire and Memphis's torpedoes. All the while, squadron two had damaged one battleship and sank another. All this was done without significant damage to anyone involved. What was once thirty ships was now reduced to just over half, and most of those remaining were at least lightly damaged.

Whoever, or whatever, was in charge of the Siren fleet made a choice. In unison, the surviving ships of the Siren fleet started to turn one-hundred eighty degrees. They would retreat through the one opening afforded them, the one they came from. An unforeseen problem met Commander's eyes. The damaged battleship wouldn't keep up with it's allies and as such would be the impromptu rear-guard. That wouldn't sail with him. He gave an order to squadron one, who had by now moved onto their own choice targets closer into the enemy fleet's center, "Target the already damaged battleship. It's the last thing in the way keeping from us pursuing and destroying the fleet as it retreats," he then addressed the fleet as a whole, "We're gonna pursue the enemy in the present L-formation until they pass through the Windward Passage."

Squadron one obliged him with shells instead of words. But with Nashville something odd started to happen to her. She felt tingly, like something she had never felt before. She focused on it and knew exactly what it meant. It was one of her abilities as a ship girl. She turned to her commander and said, "Commander, I just found out what one of my abilities is! Give the order and I can fire even faster."

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Alright. Let me see it."

She smiled smugly and announced, "The fastest guns on the sea!" Then something that should have been impossible happened. Her fire rate did increase. In fact, it seemed to have doubled. Commander was shocked to behold 150 shells per minute become 300. It lasted for about fifteen seconds. Numbers were crunched quickly in Commander's head. In these fifteen seconds seventy-five six-inch shells were fired. Smoke obscured the view that he might have been able to have on the damaged battleship as it turned slowly, unable to keep up with the rest of it's fleet, but to the attestation of all present seventy guns did the job just right. It sank without any fanfare on it's part.

The battle had now become mobile. Because the retreating Sirens weren't able to pour concentrated fire to back up the blockade made with their fallen comrades, squadron one was able to avoid the still half-sunken ships in their way as they advanced. Squadron two remained in a constant flanking assault and made repeated torpedo runs on the last remaining battleship, damaging it and causing it to lose speed. It was Charles Ausburne and Cassin that were able to deal the death blow, ripping off the bow and watching it nosedive into the ocean. Now all that remained as the fleet fled along the Cuban coastline was an assortment of cruisers and destroyers. Ships that slowed down with damage were chewed to bits by squadron one. All the while Denver's guns, and the destroyer's torpedoes made impossible any idea of breaking out in any other way. The "battle" would continue for another two hours. The last surviving destroyer would sink only about another ten minutes of sailing south of where Commander had intended to break off the pursuit.

The firing stopped naturally, as all ship girls realized that they had run out of targets. Commander picked up his radio transponder. He said, "Victory is ours, ladies." The fleet started to cheer over the radio, but he wasn't done yet. "I want damage reports," he stated, and he went down the list of his fleet. Nashville, Honolulu, Indianapolis, and Aulick were undamaged, save for scratches to paint. Memphis's leak was under control and a few of her electrical systems had been knocked out. Northampton had a few smashed secondary guns, and her anti-air was reduced considerably. Denver, Charles Ausburne, and Laffey had light damage to their superstructures. Cassin had the very tip of her bow chipped away and her main gun's rotating mechanism was jammed.

All in all, the battle had gone nearly flawlessly. But one thing bugged Commander to no end. Why didn't the Sirens involve their superweapon? Getting their fleet picked apart sure seemed like the ideal time to crank it out. He'd have to question this later. But for now, he had one last order, which he gave, after checking in with Nashville who was flying and cheering with joy, "Now that it's all over and done with, we can get a celebration going aboard Nashville. Come on back." Now he just had to think of what he was going to tell Slade when the battle came up in conversation, and an explanation as to why he moved without orders. But that would come later.

Hey what's up all you beautiful people? I'm glad that you're here. I do have some stuff to say but before that I have an announcement to make before a lot of you loose interest in my author's notes. I've been able to keep a relatively brisk pace with my chapters but starting this week my university's semester is getting started again. So, my uploads are going to slow way down. I just won't be able to dedicate three or four hours to writing every day. I still have no idea how long you will have to wait between chapters, but I'll still get them out as fast as possible while maintaining a writing standard that makes me happy. But onto other things. So, this was the first major battle that I have ever written in the first fanfiction that I have ever written. Please tell me what worked. In fact, please tell me what didn't work. I really want to get better for these moments of action. But anyway, I see a few comments.

Zander22122, thanks for commenting. I gotta say, you made me laugh pretty hard once I googled your quote and found that I had made a Die Hard reference. I swear it was unintentional. But about naming characters. The only character with a randomly generated name is Roscoe's surname. Everything else is from my head. So, with Johnson I wanted a stereotypical all-American white guy name. Johnson came to mind with no further ambitions for the character. Then the joke about Johnson's johnson suddenly appeared on my screen and I rolled with it. Then you pointed out my unintentional reference. It's like a joke that keeps on giving. Thanks for pointing this out to me.

Wow Dario6595, thanks so much for writing what you did. Hearing stuff like that means a lot to me. Mentioning the Alicorn gives me an idea. Thanks for suggesting it. For some reason I had forgotten how awesome the Ace Combat superweapons are. It's funny really. I remember getting a secondhand copy of Ace Combat 4 when I was nine or ten and of all things to remember I remember being hyped like crazy when I sank the Battleship Tanager in the mission, "Invincible Fleet." Imagine how insane I went when the battleship's captain came up in a game that came out in my college years. I love Ace Combat. And don't ever worry about writing something too lengthy. That's something another reader taught me. If it isn't let out into words, your ideas are doomed to be forgotten. But seriously though, thanks for the Alicorn recommendation. It's nice to meet another shikikan and ace. We might not say it where I'm from but cheers to you too.

That's all I have to say about that. Take care friends. If you are having a bad day I hope it gets better, and if you are having a good day I hope it gets even better.