The Second Battle of the North Sea
Standing on Captain Klimov's bridge, Hermione and Bellatrix watched as a light drizzle and steady fog cover restricted visibility to 5km. It was said to ease as they went into the night; the mist and the fog had brought on what were already like night-time conditions, though.
Into the heart of this, the helicopters had travelled. They were not generally designed for all-weather operations, and the flight to the Shetlands had been executed earlier in the day. A small but significant part of the force had gone down or been lost, not guided in to safe landing on an island before they crashed. A few of these, the squadron had recovered survivors from, but most of those so unfortunate had died without facing the enemy.
The deck rolling under them underlined the tension. The boom of the guns showed how close to land they were. A speed run of eight hours duration had carried the squadron to within range of Baltasound on Unst, the northernmost of the larger islands within the Shetlands. Automatic 13cm guns on the destroyers were making short work of continued resistance around the airfield. A few minutes before, Bella and Hermione had been standing on the bridge wing, throwing Bombarda Maxima at the defenders as well, but the fading light made it difficult for even magically enhanced vision, and it had just ended up interfering with the radar-directed gunnery, anyway.
Captain Klimov stepped over to them, checking his watch and shaking his head softly. "Perhaps I will ask you to go back out, if they don't manage to suppress resistance near the Sound soon. The A-40s are circling, they're running low on fuel. We need to get them down if the men are to have enough ammunition for continued operations."
"I can," Bellatrix's eyes flared. "But it's a matter of choosing your poison. The enemy is in close enough contact that we're bound to cause collateral casualties."
"I know," Klimov nodded, his voice quiet, eyes intense. He turned back to look through the bridge windows, spackled with rain, toward the green lowlands and the brown rock of the island. They were only slowed to 10 kts, circling off the island, because four attack submarines were guarding the position further out. The crack and flash of the shells hitting shore was dim and distant, compared to the recoil of the guns through the hull, invisible as they were mounted aft on the Admiral Ushakov.
"If you'd stay ready, though?" Because, if it was necessary to keep the mission successful, of course they'd risk collateral casualties.
"Of course we will, Captain," Hermione offered with a taut smile, and pushed Bellatrix away toward the bridge wing. She was narrowing her eyes thoughtfully, sharply.
The scream of fighters overhead could distantly be heard. Su-27s operating at long range with drop tanks from the Norwegian mainland, they were supported by A-50 AEW birds, also capable of refuelling them. There had been two air battles over the Shetlands already, but they were just from patrols of fighters launched out of Scotland; they had yet to be hit hard by one of the enemy's naval strike forces, which boded well.
They could both hear one of the other officers step closer to Captain Klimov. "We're out of time, Sir. Yes, it could be a few more minutes, but we're just cutting the margin too close."
He shot a look toward the two witches.
Bella didn't even turn around. "Just tell them to land," Bella instructed. "I'll take care of it. "
The mustachioed officer closed his eyes for a moment, and exhaled with a puff of breath. "Signal them that they will be coming in against opposition," he instructed.
"It's not about suppressing the enemy," Bella murmured, slipping her wand out. "It's about getting those machines to land safely."
Hermione's eyes widened just in time, because glove in glove, a wave of Bella's wand tore them away from the bridge of the Ushakov and deposited them on the shore before the Baltasound.
For the first time since 1998, Hermione stood on British soil. She was certainly unready for it. She was also unready for the dancing gesture, the whipping wand. "Bombarda Maxima! " An enormous explosion tore through a target as Bella, now standing with Hermione behind the enemy lines, could fire into them from enfilade to avoid their own troops.
Hermione shielded her from the burst of machine-gun fire that was immediately directed from the west with a quick Protego. Then, swinging around in front of her, Bella directed a column of flame in the direction of the fire. It was abruptly silenced.
A different droning noise could now be heard, turbofans at low altitude instead of the fast movers at high altitude. "All together, Hermione, with a shield."
"Right, Bella." The brown-eyed witch pressed herself, shoulder to shoulder, with her lover. They combined the power of their Protego, Protego Perpetua, and with blue energy crackling from their wands, conjured forth a square shield in the sky, approximating the position from which the gunfire of the defenders still issued.
It caught the first of the man-portable surface-to-air missiles. The missiles were the real threat, as the Beriev A-40s, the only jet-powered amphibious aeroplane in the world, descended on the bay, one after the other. Six of them, bringing supplies down to the VDV men who had executed a daring helicopter assault across the North Sea.
It was a whirl of motion. Bellatrix braced on Hermione abruptly. The shield faded as its scale exceeded the ability of two witches to maintain, but then, with a snap, she interposed it past each red dot as first one, then twice, thrice, four times, MANPADs were launched against the landing aeroplanes. Hermione quickly adapted her own stance, shifting to defend them with a quick series of shields against machine-gun and mortar fire from the remaining Morsmordre troops, leaning into the ground and centring herself. She realised that Bellatrix was using her as a brace to compensate for the fact that all of her magical moves, the ones that she had developed long ago, the motions to call forth magic—in fact, Bella had been negatively impacted by the loss of her arm in a subtle way. It wasn't the exact same weight as the old one.
In all of the battles they had fought in so far, Bella had been metaphorically relying on Hermione like a shield-bearer fighting alongside of her, and covering her weaknesses. And now, in their first battle back on British soil, having returned to the fight as a couple, Together, Bellatrix had grown to trust Hermione enough to lean on her outright.
Lean on her literally, in battle and danger. Hermione bore down, braced herself, braced the brilliant madwoman she had come to love. Promised that she would never let her down.
Gave her all the cover she needed, until the last of the amphibians was down on the Baltasound, the water of the long sound churned up with the landing of the six in tight succession. Off-shore, the crack of the guns from the destroyers and frigates still sounded, but with them was the bright columns of light climbing into the foggy darkness, of surface-to-air missiles rising to engage targets.
Another air attack, Hermione grimaced. They really needed to go. "We did it, Bella, we did it, and we need to get back! "
"One more good hit on the troops," Bella cried, snapping off another spell. "You apparate!"
Hermione nodded, spun back with her hand on Bella's, sighted the Admiral Ushakov, speeding up but also turning, her wake broad and combing white breakers in the fading light, as Captain Klimov tried to keep the ship in the same place for them even as he increased speed to make himself a harder target.
Bellatrix sent a final Bombarda Maxima into an uncovered mortar battery, and with a snap of magic and a sickening dislocation, her body continued through its motion only to fall against Hermione as they now stood on the heeling deck of the Ushakov, the inclinometer sharply learning to port as she turned and accelerated all at once.
"Captain, the Witches are secure aboard!"
"Come about to course One-Five-Zero and ahead full!" Hermione could hear Klimov's voice inside the bridge. "Signal lights to the squadron only—we are underway on one-five-zero!"
"Signal lights only, Captain!"
Captain Klimov shot them a look as Hermione helped Bellatrix onto the bridge, behind them, some of the sailors swinging one of the big signal lights toward one of the destroyers, working the shutters to blink out a signal in morse code. "Forgive me, General, Colonel, but I would like a warning next time."
"It was the only way to let the transports land," Bellatrix shrugged as she helped herself back up to a standing position as the ship's heel eased off—she was steadying out on course—and a grin twisted her lips. "Anyway, you did everything right. We were under air attack?"
"A squadron of Tornadoes, we weren't sure if they were after the fleet or the troops—it wouldn't matter, anyway."
"Let me know if we come under air attack again, Captain."
"I can only do that if you're aboard the ship, General," he smiled faintly. "I was a submariner, before my brief retirement. I'm not used to people leaving my ship!" He turned away and muttered, softly – "especially so that the computers must be reset. Twice."
Bella sniffed.
"We'll be retiring then, Captain," Hermione interjected, before something like 'impertinent muggle' came out of Bella's mouth, especially since she was bemused by Klimov's humour. Hermione had started to sense when what she called pureblood syndrome was about to happen. "Five hours to be in position to engage Azkaban, yes?"
Klimov reflexively checked his watch. "Yes, Colonel."
"Thank you." Hermione tugged Bella down to the Admiral's suite appropriated for her. Helped Bellatrix through. Closed it again.
"Sleeping draught?" She asked, nipping over to the enchanted sway-proof rack filled with potions and draughts.
"Make sure it will have me wide awake again in four hours," Bellatrix answered, spinning and sitting on the bed.
"Of course. Bellatrix," Hermione said as she turned away to work. "I want to apologise."
"Pet?" Bella glanced up with a guileless innocence which in her was the happy place of the same expression which could change so quickly to gleeful madness.
"I didn't appreciate, until today, just how much losing your arm had actually cost you. Your balance, the natural flow of the spells you had built up over so many years. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I took the attitude that you were just being vain and petty. It didn't occur to me that there might be other consequences that you might be hiding."
"...Where's the 'but', Pet? I can hear it!"
"Well, you could have told me," Hermione said, turning toward Bella and smiling as she walked up with the draught. "...Right?"
Bellatrix snatched the draught quickly from Hermione's hands… And then kissed her. "I didn't think you'd care. Or worse, you'd pity me. Because let's be clear, Hermione. It's true, but don't pity me, because I don't deserve it. Oh I WANT to be pitied for it," she laughed, "but I don't deserve it. "
Hermione watched Bellatrix drop back to the bed, and prop herself up as she drank the sleeping draught. Then she went back for her own, still watching Bella. "Fair," she acknowledged with a smile, a real smile.
"Good. There's enough pity in this relationship as it is."
"Why do you say that?" With the beginnings of a sleepy yawn, the younger witch walked closer, standing over Bella, pressing close up alongside and reaching out to hug her head. Bellatrix leaned into her hips with a sigh.
"When the whole world knows you're my wife, you'll never have a day of peace again. My lust to possess you – is always warring with the knowledge that I am an anchor around your neck."
Hermione started to softly cry. "Thank you, Bella. But stop worrying about it. Just like you, I made my own damned choices."
Bella cackled. "Then we both make terrible choices, pet."
In the end, even though the bed was much too small for two people, they both slept in it, anyway.
"The Nimitz taskgroup has the Denmark Strait. Still no sign of any enemy force," Palliser reported as he stepped back in to the chart-room. With the Inflexible at stations, the entire crew—except for the Witches and Wizards, who remained in their robes and trusted their magic—was in their anti-flash gear, Captain included.
"Thank you, Captain. What is our current course and speed?"
"We're steering zero-one-zero, M'lord. Two-five knots." Palliser paused for a moment. "Anything from Thule?"
"They say they have sighted nothing. They send wizards up on brooms." Blaise shrugged diffidently. The government of the all-wizard island of Thule south of Jan Mayen was aligned with Voldemort, but being pureblood wizarding ground, their refusal to let a muggle garrison on the island had been accepted, and of course, the ghastly conditions on Jan Mayen meant its garrison was more or less useless.
But both men were playing a game for formalism's sake, for the sake of keeping everyone where they needed to be, right until the moment that they didn't need to be there anymore.
There was just one problem, really. They had no idea how much of the enemy force was in confidence to the plan. Therefore, at a minimum, their air defences had to be constantly ready to repel attack… And their ASW forces had to be top-notch.
The plotting table showed the problem clearly. There were at least eight Victor IIIs—Project 671 attack submarines—positioned between the Morsmordre forces and the Russian North Fleet taskgroups in the Norwegian Sea. They were not intentionally pressing hard to find or attack them, but there was a risk, due to the absence of information—the reality of the situation with their admittedly treasonous communications—that those submarines were hunting for them. Behind them were at least three Akulas, Project 971s, and two Project 945s, Sierras. At least four of the Oscar SSGNs—Project 949—were also somewhere in the mix, carrying two dozen P-700 missiles each.
The sharp sound of a Typhoon hitting the trap aft echoed distantly up to the chart room. Engines were screaming forward on another one in the rotation ready to be catapulted off. Around them were the ten surface ships in the escort group, dispersed at 7km intervals—nuclear dispersal range. One hundred klicks away, the Relentless was pacing them to the west.
Two games at once. Blaise stepped back and thought about it. Until it didn't matter anymore, he had to pretend he was a loyal servant of the Dark Lord. So he had to execute a serious engagement. The enemy had executed a daring airborne assault on the Shetland Islands. They had detected a large cruiser force to the east of the islands, which had closed to the point of providing gunfire support. There were two Russian carrier groups to the north of them. There was one to the southeast, the Baltic Fleet force, already in the North Sea. The land-based aviation would have to deal with them regardless.
With the Americans for support, it was four on two. It helped that there were no satellites. That meant there was no precise intel on the location of the enemy. The fact that they had not yet found and engaged them made sense in context. At that point, one of the American carriers was to the northwest of Iceland, one to the southeast. Right where Blaise and Palliser wanted them.
I need to draw this out as long as possible. "Bring both taskgroups to course one-three-five. Inform Admiral Mattheson that we are going to launch a night attack on the cruiser squadron supporting the aerial desant against the Shetlands. He needs to advance to the north with his carriers. He should assume that the enemy is not within fifty kilometres of the shore of Thule, but no more than that."
"Of course, M'lord." Palliser paused. "We'll be in a position where we'll have no choice but to launch a heavy attack on the forces on the Shetlands, if we're to be convincing, if the operation hasn't materialised by about ten hundred hours tomorrow morning. There is a risk that Minister Thicknesse will directly order you to use the tactical nuclear weapons on the Belfast against the VDV division on the islands. The MinKol personnel there, M'lord, are the ones who are supposed to support us when the time comes."
The Belfast, accompanying his taskgroup; the elderly cruiser reactivated for the sole fact that her 152mm guns—bored out to 155mm—were big enough to handle nuclear shells. "I'm aware, Captain." Blaise looked cold. He had to be cold. "We will accept the risk. We may not need the support, if we must keep our cover until then, it will help all of us."
"Understood." Palliser pulled down the flash mesh over his face and went for tea, while he had the chance. Blaise followed him. That was one that united muggle and wizard, in this moment.
That, and a full appreciation of what they might have to do to men who were technically on their side, but didn't know it yet.
The main invasion convoy had left the Trondheimsfjord that morning, and headed southwest through the protected internal waters of the Trondheimsleia, the deep-water protected channel carrying as far south as Kristiansund. It was the actual collection of heavy Russian and some Scandinavian amphibious landing assets, along with a few converted civilian Ro-Ros of the largest type. The smaller converted civilian Ro-Ros were held back at Ålesund, and it was from Ålesund that a smaller group of amphibs had departed only to return again and rendezvous with the main force, after forming a diversion.
Once the two forces together, with a single destroyer leading the escort, surrounded by a large number of Project 1135 frigates, Narcissa and her staff had gone out to join the Mitrofan Moskalenko. Since it was an amphibious flagship, there was no need for an undignified transfer via helicopter to avoid risking issues with the electronics. She apparated.
Now they had everyone. Draco, Larissa, Luna, Tonks, all within the staff and operational planning spaces aboard the very large LPD, displacing 14,000 tons at full load. With them were 25 tanks, 45 BMP-2s, and about six hundred troops. Two Ka-52 attack helicopters were carried as deck cargo, to fly off before regular utility operations with the smaller onboard helicopters began.
Narcissa felt that the dozen MinKol wizards and witches she was with were a greater Russian support to her ambition than all of that rot. But she did appreciate the hot tea aboard, the wood décor in the planning rooms—even if it was all fake and actually plastic (actually, the fact the muggles could do that was admittedly sort-of impressive. She'd have to ask Andy about fake wood later). The food? Well, she could certainly appreciate it.
Four of the MinKol wizards were up on deck, providing air guard against an air attack on the convoy. It made the most sense for those wizards who were guarding against air attack, to be on the amphibs on the civilian ships—it meant that the escorts would have their radars unimpeded, and both could be used at once.
What consumed Narcissa's attention at the moment was the position of the so-called Surface Action Squadron. With it, her sister had slipped away to the south, deep into the North Sea. But Narcissa had a charm from long ago—she had made it with her sister's help when she was in her second year at Hogwarts—which showed her where Bellatrix was. She could watch it creep across the map.
And if it became necessary to risk such precision information being broadcast, she could, if necessary, tell the muggle forces about it. But for the moment, she was silent, occasionally watching the little enchanted silver jackdaw move across the chart. The vapour wafted up from her tea, and she glanced again at the chart. They were over the Viking Bank, moving southwest toward Scotland. The Baltic Fleet was orbiting south of them, west of Stavanger. Her sister was two hundred nautical miles from her, but she might as well have been on Mars.
Then music struck up behind her. She spun back with such surprise that she splashed a bit of tea on the floor. It was Luna, who had used some bag of holding or another to manage to bring a guitar onto the ship. She'd taken it out and started to strum it.
"In sixteen hundred and forty-two I knew what I had to do… Leave my home and family too, and fight for Old Charlie!"
"...In sixteen hundred and forty-three, those roundheads, they were after me—but we were on a winning spree, fighting for Old Charlie!"
"In sixteen hundred and forty-four, we fought a battle at Marston Moor—many men died to uphold the law, fighting for Old Charlie!"
"Of course she'd start singing a cavalier ballad," Tonks murmured, walking over to Narcissa as they got to the ghastlier and more bitter parts of the song. "Though I do admit, Heaven or Devon is a tough choice," referencing the next part of the song.
"Oh thank you," Narcissa answered with a flat droll tone. Then she raised her voice. "Thank you, Luna. We have, indeed, endured an interregnum, and as that song was first sung in victory in London, so we will honour our King Charles by singing it again." A deft declaration, which turned the song into a bloody-minded prideful anthem instead of something that was rather dark. Then she wandered over to Luna's side.
"Miss Lovegood, is something a-matter, that you've decided to sing?"
Luna smiled. "Well, we are fighting for King Charles," she noted. "So it seemed to fit! Anyway, I just wanted to pass the time with a song, Madame Malfoy. This morning will be special, and I can't sleep."
"It will?"
"Yes. Draco will need to be busy."
Oh Gods. He'll be needed with the Ushakov. "Thank you, Luna. I know you can't be more precise than that. Thank you." She spun on heel. Get him to bed, get him rested while he has the chance.
What the hell is going to go wrong, Bella?
Mostly military terminology notes today, except:
1. It seemed to make sense that one consequence for Bellatrix is that in terms of her dancer's style of casting magic, it's actually impaired by the different balance of her arm. I certainly would feel this when dancing the flankirovka.
2. Luna, Luna, Luna...
3. I decided to make the mysterious island of Thule an actual small, entirely wizard-inhabited island which is Unplottable to muggles. .. Normally anyway.
4. Jan Mayen is a small island northeast of Iceland at the northern edge of the Norwegian Sea. It's quite real.
5. Fighting For Old Charlie: watch?v=z9b7bRb6P5I
Military terminology:
1. "Nimitz Taskgroup" - a force built around an American Nimitz-class CVN.
2. Course headings-these are compass bearings, measured to the right, with 0 - 0 - 0 being Due North.
3. "Belfast" is presently a museum ship in London. Her 6" guns are larger than anything in service in the modern British military, and they're about the smallest guns that can fire a nuclear shell.
4. SSGN - Submarine, Nuclear, Guided Missile (launching).
5. ASW - Anti-Submarine Warfare.
6. MANPAD - as a reminder, Man Portable Air Defence.
7. Ka-52 is the Kamov "Alligator", originally designed the "Hookum" by NATO.
