Chapter 1: Meeting

Someone has to do the dirty jobs.

Some tasks are simply too much for the mind to handle. The mind makes mistakes, errors that cannot be corrected at the moment, errors that have a profound effect on the future of those held closest.

War marches on, and no one wants to be left behind.

The men of Azur lane do not hold a dignified position in military society. Their job fighting the threat of the Sirens is tough and bleak. Indeed, the women are the face of Azur Lane and the Crimson Axis in the war against the Sirens, bringing peace and safety to humanity, and to themselves.

But there are other games to play in war. Sabotage, subterfuge, spying, intel collection, missions that are not glorious, and highly dangerous, yet necessary for victory.

That is the job of the men.

The men of Azur Lane keep a low profile. Armed with an array of alternate warfare technology based on extended Wisdom Cube manifestation research, their organization in Azur Lane is not directly noted on files, but to those who have interacted with them card their project as the Blackops Warship Initiative. What they lack in direct firepower, they make up for in stealth and information gathering.

A great war would soon brew, accelerating the conflict of mankind and the Sirens to incalculable extremes. Good luck to our brave heroes!

They will need it...

Date: August 7th, 2023

Location: Pearl Harbor Black Site 9

The room is burning hot. My hand instinctively reached for the fan nearby the desk, seeking a cool breeze to melt the sweat off my face. Though it was only 23 degrees Celsius outside, the general attitude of the room was stifling, despite the only occupants being myself and California. Of course it would be. This is the day where I had to open the next death notification letter.

I stabbed the desk with the letter opener, letting a tear slide down my face. The only light in the room not filtering through the window shades was the white wax candle that burned softly, flickering to the light breeze coming through the open windows. California was leaned up against the wall, staring solemnly at the mural decorating the floor, which depicted the insignia of the 9th Intelligence Corp. His cheeks were flushed red and his eyes were closed, echoing the same sentiment I found myself feeling. The sadness didn't suit his normally handsome face, but who could blame him? I knew what this letter was going to say, and so did California. Damn the General Board to hell.

I sliced it open anyways, narrowly avoiding cutting my own finger with the letter opener. I unfolded the faded yellow paper and read it out loud for California to hear.

"The General Board is required to inform you that your subordinate, USS Sterett, has been reported dead during Operation Soul Snatcher. On the behalf of the commanding admirals, we extend our condolences to you and your unit." I couldn't keep my voice from sticking slightly. Mucus had clogged my throat and it came out choked.

"Sterett was a good man," California commented quietly. "He sacrificed a lot for us and for our cause..."

"Goddamnit Cali, we can't lose men like this. These guys...they are our brothers. We are the only ones with the necessary skills and equipment to slip past the Siren defenses. The girls running the show at this godforsaken 'Combined Forces Base' don't take this bloody war as seriously as we do, and if we don't dirty our hands, humanity is toast."

California didn't respond to my words and I couldn't blame him, I felt as numb as he was. He and I were honest to goodness brothers-in-arms. I had lost count of the number of sabotage missions that he and I had gone through together. He has been playing this filthy gig for longer than I have, and it was him who taught me everything I knew. I even remembered the day I first met him. In that godforsaken musty hallway just before our first sortie, his face was clear in my mind. Hale and hearty he was, muscles rippling under the skin of his arms and chest that you could clearly see under his tight green T-shirt. For a nuclear guided-missile cruiser, the Eagle Union couldn't have a better-looking poster boy than him to put on the face of their propaganda campaigns. Seeing him sad like this hurt me almost as much as the fact that Sterett was dead. Sterett had been under my command for years and had always pulled through when situations behind enemy lines got sticky. The paper said he was defeated by a Peace Breaker Siren when his squadron had their cover blown during a stealth operation. Hearing that, I felt a pit in my stomach. Stealth was vital to members of the Core after all.

The Core was truly a harsh place to be in. With the uptake on Siren activity and more Mirror-Seas and permanent bases being established by the enemy, the Azur Lane and Crimson Axis were forced to put aside their differences in an uneasy alliance to drive the Sirens back so they could not launch assaults on naval bases and coastal cities alike. Initially, the alliance was making do with fielding vast numbers of Exceed, girls born from Wisdom Cubes imbued with the souls of warships and fused with the subconscious wills of humanity. Rigging developed to tap into that legendary power allowed the Azur Lane to hold the line. The Crimson Axis themselves reverse-engineered stolen Siren technology to arm their warships with. Thus while the Crimson Axis had fewer warships to contribute to the war, they were on average stronger than Azur Lane warships and fought the Sirens in other regions.

The Core had only been born a few years ago when it became clear to the General Board of the Eagle Union that simply fighting the Sirens head-on wasn't going to be enough to stop their invasion. Eventually, humanity's resources would bleed dry and they would crumble. That is why the Core was established. While the Exceed engaged the Sirens tooth and nail with their cannons and torpedoes, the Core employed Units, boys who had been created from modified Wisdom Cubes that were armed with advanced armament and technology, including missiles and jamming systems. Thinly armored, Units did not have the same level of defenses and endurance the Exceed was privileged to, however, their stealth systems, advanced intelligence-gathering equipment, and modern weapons made them excellent spies. Units excelled at infiltration and sabotage, and with counter jammers that could nullify the Siren jamming present in Mirror-Seas, the Core got stuck with the dirty work of war. There was nothing glorious about what the Core did, and that went for the 9th Intelligence Corp as well, my men.

It was completely one-sided too. The General Board favored the Exceed far more than they did the Core, and they got the bulk of the resource allocations and attention for their achievements. The Core was almost always understaffed and lacking in necessary materials and upkeep despite everyone busting their asses to keep things running smoothly. In all truth, I hated it. I hated the girls. Most of them were quirky and wild. They prefer to spend their off time playing games or visiting cafes and shopping malls. They don't take fighting the Sirens nearly as seriously as us members of the Core do. Hell, if an Exceed was sunk, the ladies tended to mourn the loss for less than a day, and then forget it ever even happened, like those lives never existed or even mattered. I couldn't argue with the fact they did the majority of the fighting to protect humanity, but my sentiment about them applied to most of the Core members, none of us liked them. Humanity's future was at stake, and it felt like they were treating this war like childs play.

The sound of jackhammering outside broke me out of my thought train. I and California had only been transferred to this base three weeks ago, and the Manjuus were still hard at work building the rest of the Black Site where hopefully we wouldn't be bothered by the Exceed, who bunked in dorms elsewhere on the base closer to the onsite academy.

"I swear if I have to listen to those jackhammers any longer I'm gonna punch a Manjuu. It's making my head throb." California rumbled. Both of us felt sullied after hearing the news of Sterett's death and even I agreed that listening to the constant hammering was making my head hurt too. I folded up the paper and slipped it back into the envelope, having read the whole thing, and I placed it on one of the stacks of papers that adorned the front side of my desk. I'd have to sign off on it soon and have Sterett's stuff packed up from his room and given to his squadmates. I stood up, the metal chair grinding against the wood floor and leaving a score across it.

"You can't blame them, they are just automatons doing what they are programmed to do. Although I get your sentiment. The workers get to deal with civil matters freely while we have to listen to our comrades getting their heads blown off by Sirens."

"They need to hurry up and finish the project. We need resources more than we need buildings." California grumbled. I moved the shades aside behind my desk and stared out the window at the skeletal framework of several buildings under construction. I could clearly see over the fence into the Exceed's area. Several groups of girls were milling about doing girl things stopping at the mom-and-pop shops that bordered the base. Some were even run by the girls, probably as part-time money makers.

"Pearl Harbor Naval Base, where you can fuck off in peace." I muttered. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if California heard what I said. Though judging by his stoic expression, I assumed he didn't. Though to be honest, I should be more careful about what I say. Never know when someone might be listening after all. I used to be very vocal about my thoughts on the current state of affairs. Eventually, after getting into enough trouble and having California bail me out multiple times, I learned to keep my mouth shut and transform my expression into an indifferent mask, such that no one could guess my motives and thoughts. Do my work to the letter, stay low, don't get disciplined. Oh and save as many lives as I can, that's definitely the most important. I turned to face California and walked around my desk. "Sterett may have died, but at the very least, the information he and his squad retrieved made it back here safely. We need to make good use of it."

"Be real Virgin," California started. He always called me that after learning my name was Virginia. Though he meant it as a friendly slur because I had yet to have intercourse with anyone. It used to tick me off, but after learning about what the Exceed really were like, it became less of a bother and more of a funny joke between us. "We already confirmed the Sirens are using some big fuckoff technology to build this damn fortress right on our doorstep. Sterett fucking died cause of it. If I ever get the chance to bring the Siren responsible for it to her knees I goddamn will, but actually getting close to Fortress Alpha is going to be a nightmare. We can't do it by ourselves."

He had a point there. Fortress Alpha had been the subject of scrutiny ever since Siren fleets began appearing in the southern waters seemingly completely out of the blue. A prior operation had discovered the existence of this Siren-made island with an extensive giga-fortress built onto it to service Siren mass-produced models of warship. The General Board left it to me to figure out how to take it down, which is what Operation Soul Snatcher was for, stealing important documents and gathering the information on the weak points of the fortress necessary to destroy it and thus remove the threat it projected across southern waters. I had rejected the idea, saying we should observe it from afar, but the General Board forced me to deploy men. Thus, Sterett died.

"I hate to say it but...we might need to ask the girls for help."

"Considering how many of them are screwing off down there, and the threat that Alpha poses," California responded. "I can't imagine the board would say no to us requesting a few battleships to take it out. As usual, I checked our supplies and the dirtbags at the distribution center mislabeled our shipment of W80 Nuclear Warheads and sent them off to some nondescript military warehouse in Oregon, so we won't be seeing those for a while. Honestly, when will they get their heads out of their asses and ship us the proper missiles? We can't even send out Arkansas and Mississippi because they don't even have any weapons to shoot at the enemy for christ's sake! Hell if Sterett actually was able to leave port with a full rack of missiles he may not have died at all!"

"I'm sorry Cali." I put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down as I could tell he was getting riled up. His breathing slowed to something more manageable. Despite the mood, I was a little jealous. I wish I had enough muscle on my bones to make veins pop out whenever I was mad. Not that I wasn't well endowed with strength, to begin with, the Virginia Class nuclear guided-missile cruisers were more advanced than the California Class after all, but I could tell that hitting the gym during off-hours was definitely doing wonders for California. He breathed a sigh.

"I'll go talk with command, you need to go talk to Sterett's squad and then take some time off. I saw you last night bulldozing through those papers, don't tell me you don't need a break, not after this." California finally looked up from the floor and gave me a broken smile. I patted him on the shoulder before heading towards the door.

"Your right, ill take it easy," I replied, walking out the door and leaving him alone in the office.

Unfortunately, I was forced to venture outside of Black Site 9.

It was called Black Site 9 due to the sheer amount of confidential information that flowed in and out of our district. I was not the head of the district. That honor belonged to USS Ticonderoga. Technically he was my boss, though he certainly didn't act like it. Ticonderoga strived to be more like the grunts serving under him, so that way he could feel like he could relate to us more. The only reason I knew this was because he told me after I found him nearly blackout drunk in his office. Despite all of us guys working our asses off and being fairly resilient to bullshit flung at us from every direction, even we needed to ventilate stress. Booze and Nicotine were not legal on the base, but there was an underground market for them within the Black Site. It was a mutual understanding by all Units that we all needed something to cope with. I dabbled in some drinking and smoking here and there, but I wasn't addicted like a lot of the guys were. Thus, despite the MP constantly keeping their eyes on us, we moved forward with our operations.

The only reason I even thought of this was because Ticonderoga had chosen to accompany me. He waylaid me in the hallway after I had finished dropping off Sterett's belongings with the rest of the Belknap Class guided-missile cruisers and asked me where I was going. When I told him I was headed over to the General Office to drop off my report, he said he was going the same way, and asked if we could walk together.

Thus, it was two dudes walking through the Exceed's district. And it was painful for both of us. Unlike us Units, who hated the Exceed with a passion, the girls were a lot less...reserved. They freely stared at us as we walked along the shoreline. I wore Seven-League boots that clunked against the concrete loud enough that I was annoyed by the noise, for it was drawing unwanted attention. The girls had no problems gossiping about us or commenting about us. Some tried to start conversations with us as we walked and we waved them off, while others, namely the more crazy ones, fangirled as they typically do. By the time we got through what felt like a horde of women, I was exhausted, and I could see the mental wear on Ticonderoga's face too. And we hadn't even gotten to the halfway point of our round trip yet.

"Honestly they need to hook up our landlines so we can just make calls," I said. "I don't think I could ever be as forthright as those girls are."

"I've been asking, but command wants the buildings finished before they can install 'extra furnishings' as they called it. Which is why we are doing things the old-fashioned way and playing as delivery boys." Ticonderoga was shorter and younger than I was, but he was wicked smart and amazingly talented. His serious attitude didn't mesh too well with his late teenage appearances, but I applauded him for what he was trying to do for us. He carried a leather briefcase filled with papers, which also contained my files. He had offered to carry it for me in exchange for accompanying him. It was a mutual win-win. I didn't have to go to the office alone and neither did he.

Yet when we finally got to the right building and found the right door, we were greeted by an unholy reception.

"You are in the holy presence of the great Queen Elizabeth, rejoice!"

Both of us let out an exasperated sigh

In the chair where the commander of the base normally sat, the Royal Navy's Queen Elizabeth occupied the chair. My eyes gazed across the room for there were others in attendance. In the corner of the room near the Royal Navy Flag was the renowned battlecruiser Hood. The battleship Warspite stood next to the Queen most likely waiting her on. Across the commander's desk sitting in two chairs were the battleship Prince of Wales and the aircraft carrier Illustrious. The light cruiser Belfast was also present at a side table preparing refreshments. It looked to be tea, yet another symbol the Royal Navy and its force of pseudo-spies they called maids worshipped.

This was going to become a hypertension headache later on I could tell already. Fortunately for me, Ticonderoga took the lead.

"Where is the commander? And why are some of the most prominent members of the Royal Navy gathered here? Don't you have other duties to attend to?" Queen Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, probably overestimating the amount of respect she had expected to be given. I couldn't force myself to bring forth respect for someone with the appearance of a child, no matter how old she really was or how royal her position made her.

"The commander has a meeting. He asked us to watch his office while he was gone and authorized me to hold a meeting about relations between the Royal Navy and the Eagle Union." Despite her appearance, the way she said those words had a razor's edge on them. She could tell we were judging her.

"I see." Ticonderoga gave a stiff bow, which I followed suit out of faux respect. "I assume it was detailing the matter regarding our beloved mascot Enterprise?"

"Not at all. Actually it was concerning a new member coming to this base. After all, you Eagle Union can barely keep yourselves in order without the grand Royal Maids there to sort things out!" The Queen chuckled. "Isn't that right Belfast?"

"Yes, though I have still been monitoring Enterprise as requested. She seems to be starting to improve and moving away from her bad habits."

"Kindly leave us out of it when referring to the Exceed." Ticonderoga stated flatly. "Unlike some of our sisters in the fleet, we men take things pretty damn seriously."

"Is that so? What brings you here on such serious business then?" Queen Elizabeth asked. Ticonderoga walked up to the desk between Prince of Wales and Illustrious and dropped the briefcase on the desk.

"I was ordered to bring these papers to the commander. They contain our summaries of Operation Soul Snatcher and several reference sheets and equipment requests. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about." In terms of ranking, Ticonderoga and Queen Elizabeth were equals. Thus they could spew as much underhanded comments about each other as they wanted so long as it wasn't overtly stating 'I hate you'. Most of the girls were not like that interestingly enough, but the Queen was entitled due to her royal standing and that just sat wrong with all of us, especially Ticonderoga. We all bore witness to last year's grand tea party when the Queen overworked one of the maids by constantly asking this one poor girl, whose name vacated my mind some time ago, to wait on her hand and foot the whole day and refusing to let anyone else take her place so she could take a break. She was hospitalized after she fainted from exhaustion.

"Very well, I will pass these on to the commander when he returns." Queen Elizabeth responded cooly. "Now if you will excuse us, unless you have anything further to bring up, we are very busy."

"We have nothing else, so please, excuse us." Ticonderoga swiveled on his heel in perfect military fashion and tromped out, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me along with him before lightly slamming the door behind us. He released me once we were out in the hallway. "I'm sorry, I cannot stand that child."

"Me either. Are you headed back to Black Site 9?"

"No, I have to get back to work at the office."

"That's a shame." I still had to visit the warehouse to inventory our equipment before I could head back. Thus after exchanging goodbyes, I headed out on my own. Fortunately, the sun was going down and thus activity in the base was also dying down with it. I felt better. I could feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my pace quickening as I jogged towards the warehouse, which sat on a large pier with several other similar buildings. A thick wire fence protected the premise, but I was let through by the guard lady on duty without so much as a word. I smiled. Finally, I could do some real physical work to take my mind off of Sterett's death and the recent bullshit without being bothered. There was apparently no one else here besides myself and the imaginary tumbleweeds. Dusk is my favorite time of the day. It's still warm and you can still see what you are doing, but it's not blazing hot like midday nor freezing cold like the night is. I opened the door to the warehouse and set about my work. It was mostly cataloging weapons and moving essential equipment to the blocks where it needed to be. Until the Black Site's warehouse was finished, our equipment was being stored in this unused warehouse belonging to the Exceed. Most of the stuff was on pallets boxed up and ready for use, so I was able to use the forklift to move things around efficiently. By the time night fell, I was done.

"Life is easy when you have very few supplies in the first place," I said to myself quietly. I walked out the backdoor to the pier where I intended to finish writing off damaged equipment on the logsheets to find that, I wasn't alone after all.

The moon was large on the horizon. Fully illuminated by the light of the moon, I could tell instantly this woman was new to this base as she still was wearing her rigging despite the hour. Three gleaming gun turrets connected to a mechanical ring floating behind her back gave away the fact that she was a battleship. Her coat was large and reached all the way to the ground, mostly white with blue accents, and portions of the coat were translucent. It hid most of her figure, but I could easily read the name stamped to the seam of the coat in the light of the moon.

USS New Jersey. An Iowa class battleship. I haven't heard of an Iowa class Exceed being born before, which meant she must be new. A face of untainted porcelain turned to greet me with a smile.

"Well hello there."