On the second day of our sail up north, I was woken up by a rather hurried Howe in the brisk hours of the morning. "Captain," her voice floated into my ears as my vision refocused and my hearing started coming to full capacity.
I grunted and squinted the usual waking man's mannerisms, brain still spinning up. Judging by the light washing in through the windows – though not necessarily accounting for any latitudinal change – I'd peg the time at seven or eight, just as sunrise was concluding.
"Sir," Howe persisted before I could finish my power-up sequence. "There's a call coming in."
"Is it Admiral Theodore," I grumbled putting my hands up to wipe the sleep cobwebs out of my eyes. "Tell him I'll be there in a bit."
"No," she shook her head. "It's Commander McConnell. He says there's no rush, but he'd like to see you."
That woke me up. "The Commander? I thought he was on his way back to the Union."
Howe inclined her head and shrugged. "He is, but I speculate he either wants to check up on us or offer some help. Or some such thing, I don't know. He wouldn't tell me."
"Alright," I nodded, slipping the covers down so I could get my legs out of the bed. It was then that an important fact dawned on me. I still had my default white shirt and dark gray shorts for sleeping on. My hair probably isn't anything to write home about either. I was about to apologize profusely when I also had a proper look at Howe. "Are you…in your nightgown?"
"That's your takeaway?" She tittered. "It's not like either of us is better dressed to be seeing each other. But this felt urgent enough."
"It's just a transmission, I'm sure the Commander would've understood," I laughed back. "Doesn't he know what time it is here?"
"Either way," Howe insisted like a mum convincing her stubborn child, "you should go get freshened up. I'll prepare myself too in case you might need me. He said he'd wait fifteen minutes."
Fifteen minutes. "Can do," I said.
"Great!"
And so it was, in fifteen minutes, I sat in front of a monitor in a quiet room on the ship with Commander McConnell himself looking quite jovial on the other end.
"Hello, hello, hello," he greeted enthusiastically.
"Good morning, Commander," I replied doing my best to sweep away any residual grogginess. "I'm Captain James Leighway. How may I help you?"
"Hello, Captain. Actually, it's more the–" He frowned and snickered. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"
I laughed and decided that since he seemed to be in a casual mood, I may as well return the favor. "Affirmative, sir. Did you not see Howe in her nightgown?"
He raised his eyebrows and recoiled as if genuinely surprised. "No, matter of fact. I did not notice that. Really sorry," he chuckled.
"No, it's alright, sir," I waved. "Is there an urgent matter in need of discussion?"
"Kind of?" He said, face scrunching up uncertainly. "I just feel involved in this mission in a weird way because Bismarck told me first about the situation with her sister. So, if you guys need any kind of help, then I'm a button press away. Or something," he shrugged. "I dunno how comms work on your ships."
"Oh," I nodded. "I am honored at the offer, sir. Thank you."
"Sure thing."
"Mm."
We proceeded to sit in an awkward silence that lasted for maybe thirty seconds solid when he couldn't seem to take it anymore. "Is there…anything I can do right now?"
I paused to think for a second. This is Commander McConnell on the line. The officer who seemed to pull victories out of a hat as if it were simple as a child's magic trick. The officer who could read his opponents and know exactly what it is they wanted – and what they would do to get what they wanted – having met them personally or not. Surely, there were many things I could learn from him, though none of which I felt were particularly relevant right now. Save for one critical area of experience he had in which I possessed virtually none. "Are there any tips you might be able to give me about commanding a fleet of…shipgirls?"
"Oh," he nodded. "Yeah, totally. It might not seem all that different from regular folks, but there are a few key differences. First, you gotta remember that a lot of them come from the context of being constructed as weapons of war. Not all of them might show it in their personalities, but tread on certain topics carefully."
"Noted," I said.
"Second, they're capable of things your average ship might not be able to do. They can double as boarding parties, for instance. Use these exotic options to your advantage in a battle."
Was actually already thinking that. "Right."
"Third, do treat them more like friends than subordinates or other officers. You'll find that increases operating efficiency and morale dramatically if you do," he finished.
"Interesting," I replied. "Howe has been quite friendly to be with. D'you think it would be difficult to tread the line of being inappropriate in the process of getting to know them, though?"
"Nah," McConnell waved dismissively. "Just don't…you know. Be creepy and stuff. No one likes that."
"Sure, sure."
"Yep. But casual conversation, learning what makes them tick… No harm in chatting them up about things like that. It's honestly probably one of the best things you could do for them. They just need someone who'll listen. And, who knows," he cocked a brow suggestively, "They might end up pulling secrets out of you you thought were long-buried."
I chuckled. "Right." That did kind of happen the other day on the bridge with Howe. I sensed an opportunity to probe the Commander's mind a little bit with that statement, though. "Do you speak from personal experience?"
"Honestly?" He raised a brow and looked up from the camera. "Yeah."
"Interesting. With whom?" I asked, leaning back in my seat, signaling a more friendly chat from here on out.
"You know Howe's sister, Monarch?"
"The name sounds familiar," I replied trying to comb my mind's archives for some mention of her.
He chuckled. "Yeah. We ended up vibing real hard. She's been awesome."
"I see, sir."
"Mhm. Hey, if you need help in that department, too," he leaned in and glanced furtively around, "I volunteer as your wingman."
I laughed and shook my head. "I must say, this is not how I expected a conversation with the Commander McConnell to go."
"Well, here we are! Look, Captain, it's like I said. No harm in making new friends."
"I don't suppose so, sir," I said. "Well, this has been a nice first impression. An honor to make your acquaintance."
"Hear, hear," he replied. "Oh, one more thing! If you're into music, see if you can talk about that, too. I get the feeling Howe would appreciate it."
I cocked a brow at the suggestion. "So noted. I think I'll bring it up when I've got absolutely nothing else to talk about," I chuckled a bit self-deprecatingly.
"Or it comes up naturally," he winked. "Anyway, I guess it's about time I dip. Safe travels, Captain Leighway. Bring a family back together."
I paused to process what he'd just said. Put in that way, that is kind of what we're attempting to do here, isn't it? "Yes, sir. Safe travels to you as well."
He nodded and grinned before closing the connection.
Bring a family back together. Bismarck must sorely miss her sister by now. If the relations between the Illustrious-class or any of the other individuals serving in the Royal Navy's shipgirl divisions were any indications, their sisterhoods were also the only 'real' family in a 'biological' sense they have.
Shipgirl. An interesting distinction. A ship that happened to have the mental and psychoemotional faculties of a human or a human who happened to have the ability to summon a ship from thin air? I am inclined to perceive them as more of the latter, because it makes things more pleasant, and makes more sense. Where did they come from? Why are they here? An alien experiment gone wrong? I'd heard shreds of rumors about Siren schemes and the like but have never since seen a flagrant display of such a presence beyond the first invasions. Though, in retrospect, it was tempting to think they weren't driven away, simply driven back.
And if Commander McConnell's findings were anything to go off of, I likewise inclined to believe the latter. The Siren were driven back to the shadows, scheming and arranging the systematic dismantlement and eventual destruction of present human society.
We didn't know why. Some great conquest? A meddlesome experiment, as proposed earlier? A simple, childlike show of force?
Whichever one it ends up being, my plan is simple. I would do my part in this extraterrestrial war. When it was played, I'd sit back on the bench duly.
"Hello, Captain," Howe said out of nowhere.
Taking the unexpected arrival in stride, I turned the chair around to see her holding a tray of warm cookies. "Hello, Howe. Is that breakfast?"
The blonde giggled and set the tray down. "It's an incentive to have breakfast. I'll grab the pot. And don't you even think about sneaking one out while I'm away," she winked.
"I would never," I replied in kind.
As she made her way out of the room, I looked at the collection of baked goods on the table. Damned if isn't tempting, though. Perhaps that was intentional on her part. Each cookie had such an enticingly puffy exterior with little chocolate chips setting oh-so-tempting into the soft surfaces. Howe's appetizing tactic, if it was a tactic, was certainly working.
One agonizing wait later, Howe returned with a platter that looked and smelled just as delectable as the cookies. "Here we go," she chipped triumphantly.
"Ooh," I observed intently as she laid out some accompanying utensils and covered the tray of desserts. "What's that, then?"
"This," she replied, "Is Gambas al Ajillo. I figured since we're having a rather early breakfast between the two of us, we could use something different."
"Always mixing it up with the food, aren't you?" I observed aloud, rolling the chair up to the table.
"Naturally," she said matter-of-factly. "A fleet doesn't sail on empty stomachs. But a bored stomach is equally detrimental."
I inclined my head as she pulled out her own chair and sat. "That makes sense. It's easy to lose appetite when the food is the same day in and day out."
She hummed in agreement. "Hence, mixing it up. Variety is the spice of life."
Before I could reply with my mouth, my stomach did so for me. I looked down and rubbed it with a hand as Howe snickered from across the table. "Shall we get started on this, then?" I said, trying to brush it off before she could say anything.
"Sure," she tittered.
As we put some servings of the shrimp onto our plates, I wondered aloud, "What exactly is Gambas al Ajillo?"
"It's essentially a garlic shrimp dish from Spain. Very aptly named, as you can see," she replied. "Big, juicy shrimp in garlicky olive oil sauce."
"Aptly named indeed," I nodded. The dish tasted as delicious as it looked. It was only improved when Howe gave me the useful advice of using some bread to dunk into the sauce, really absorbing its flavor, and eating that, too. That allowed the food to vessel in the flavor, causing it to disperse satisfyingly when chewed on. "Goodness, that is impeccable," I said still midway through chewing.
She giggled happily and clapped her hands. "Yay! I'm glad you like it."
"Mhm," I hummed. "Thanks for preparing it. Good stuff, seriously."
"Wonderful," she said. "Now how shall I top it tomorrow…?"
Treat them like friends. I held up a hand, an idea coming to my head. "I've an idea. Why don't you show me your cooking process? Might be a nice way to bond."
She lit up and grinned at the suggestion. "Now that you say it…I think I quite like that! We'll start by diagnosing your aptitude for a kitchen environment. Once you're ready, we can make something."
"Great," I chuckled at her pleasant demeanor. Howe had an interesting personality going for her. She was enthusiastic about her friends and associates. The type of person to jump at any opportunity to be of service to those she cared about. And she may as well be the happiest individual I'd ever met. But she wasn't overly bubbly or in-your-face, either. On the contrary, when in a room with other people, she may relegate herself to an aloof background presence, only piping up when she had a pertinent comment to make or a question to ask. And even though I'd only known her for some three days now, she was starting to grow on me in a way I hadn't expected. Is McConnell's advice already coming to pass?
"So, what did the Commander say?" She asked in such a timely manner that I thought she'd read my mind.
I cupped my mouth so she knew I was still chewing, and she ate a spoonful of food patiently awaiting my response. When I was done, I said, "You were kind of right. He wanted to know how he might be of assistance. Apparently, he still feels some involvement in this mission because Bismarck had approached him first regarding it. I suppose she saw an opportunity to recement relationships between the Royal Navy and the Kriegsmarine when the deal was worked out."
"That mayf thenth," she fumbled her words cutely, what with the food still in her mouth. She swallowed, then said, "What did you say?"
Restraining a chuckle, I replied, "I asked him for some advice regarding command of a task force like this. As I've already told you, I'm a lot more used to having a bunch of officers controlling different parts of a ship as opposed to having just one person who could fire her guns with a snap of a finger."
She snickered while wiping some errant crumbs from her lip. "And then what did he say?"
"I think he's really big on the humanization aspect. Actually quite in tune with what I had in mind. So developing healthy personal relationships is the way to go, if our combined experiences are any indication."
"But you don't have any experience barring the past few days," she raised a brow curiously.
"Well, from my experience with getting a little closer to you," I replied cautiously, "it's been nice having someone like you around."
She leaned back a little in her seat, hints of a faint blush coming about her. "Oh? How so?"
"I'm not so sure," I admitted. "Maybe because it's just the two of us, that's making it more conducive to a close relationship. Maybe it's a simple fact that having met such a genuinely friendly person is so refreshing. Whatever it might be, my point is that you've been great to get to know so far and that I do value our developing friendship."
"Well," Howe began slowly as if processing what I'd just said. "Thank you, Captain. Know that the feeling is mutual."
I smiled. "And I suppose to that end…feel free to call me James."
"James," she echoed. "I like that. Has a nice ring to it."
"Sure, it's my name," I snickered. "Anyway, we also discussed a little about the operation itself," I steered back to the work-oriented topic. "If you think about it, we're practically putting a family back together."
Howe hummed wistfully, suddenly gazing off into nowhere at the statement. I was about to wave a hand in front of her face to signal her back, but I thought otherwise when I looked into her wandering eyes. Something about putting a family back together had obviously returned some memory, thought, or emotion.
I wondered if she perhaps had personal experience with such a matter. There were those hushed murmurings back at port with some people I worked with about how some sisters weren't getting along so well. Was the King George V-class one of those cases?
"It is, isn't it," she said, pulling us both back to the present.
"Yep," I nodded. "I think that's all the more motivation to make sure it's a success."
She grinned approvingly. "You don't hold a grudge against them?"
I gave her a casual shrug. "Not so much as a grievance. The biggest run-in I've had with an Ironblood force was a couple of submarines towards the occupied French spectrum of the Atlantic. Even then, we barely got four depth charges in before they fled. Resultantly, I don't have much personal reason to spite the Ironblood. I do have reason to spite the Siren, however."
"I suppose all of us do," Howe replied darkly to that last statement.
"Indeed," I said.
The two of us were then blanketed in silence, allowing me to evaluate the conversation we'd just had. Though much of yesterday was rather uneventful, it had given us many opportunities to make all manner of small talk, allowing an unexpected interweaving relationship to begin taking root. Would everyone in the task force be like this, I wondered to myself. Either way, we'd find out in time.
"Oop," I piped up, looking at the timepiece on my wrist.
"Hm?"
"It's eight. Might want to make breakfast call?"
She perked up immediately. "Ah! You're right. Help me set the table?"
I smiled softly at the invitation. "Gladly."
When we got to the galley, it was as if we'd been working with each other since yesteryear. She popped over to the kitchen to start heating the food for everyone else and I immediately knew how to make myself useful vis-á-vis setting the table. I went about laying placemats, plates, glasses, and silverware out for use. Just as I made to polish up with finish touches, Howe called from the back, summoning me over. "Yes," I asked while walking over.
"Hey! Could you taste test this for me?" She requested.
"Aren't you just reheating leftovers? I didn't think it'd be spoiled by now," I replied.
"Well, no, but I always want to make it as appetizing and filling as possible," she explained.
"A noble effort," I commended. "Let's do it."
Delighted, she put some of the soup into a tiny cup with a correspondingly tiny spoon and handed the two over to me. "What do you think?"
I blew on it a little to cool the contents before depositing it into my mouth. The flavor was preserved wonderfully, spreading all across my taste buds. Somehow, the soup gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling on the inside that triggered a bit of nostalgia. "Wow, that's somehow better than when it was fresh."
She giggled, "I can see how that might happen."
"It also coincidentally reminds me a little bit of my auntie's cooking back home," I added.
"Ooh," Howe raised a brow with sudden interest. "I shall make contact with her as soon as I get the opportunity."
"What, why?" I laughed, setting the cup down so as not to spill it. "First my mum, now my aunt?"
"Well, I'm curious to see if I can match her caliber," Howe replied with what I couldn't decide between seriousness or playful challenge.
"Right," I shook my head jokingly. "Is there still anything else you need me for? I need to get started on some papers to file in."
"Ah, no, I don't suppose so," she said. "Thanks for the help! I guess I'll send for you if we end up needing you."
"Sure thing," I said before making towards the door and bidding her farewell.
Once out in the hallway, I shook my head tiredly and sighed. Out on the open-air deck, I leaned up against the railing and had a look at the Charybdis, sailing right alongside us. Modern ships certainly had their merits. Vastly improved detection systems and weapons, though the armor innovations were a bit arguable. Yet, there were those who insisted on their love for older watercraft, some holding a special place in their hearts for ships of even the Nelsonian times.
And, of course, the quirky advantage that shipgirls were now taking centerstage in most navies. That was because of the destruction of a debilitating number of contemporary vessels when the Siren Invasions initially broke out.
I didn't quite have a preference, though I supposed there was an allure to the way ships were designed in World War 2. Something about them felt more lean and mean. As my eyes scanned over the Charybdis's structure, they soon took notice of something moving on its deck. Shifting focus, I found that it was Charybdis herself waving at me from the distance.
I grinned and waved back. She was cleaning up some dirt from the surfaces of her deck, though I wasn't sure what any long-term benefit that might attain for her. The high seas weren't exactly the tidiest place to be. Either way, if it keeps her mind off things, then there's no harm in it.
When she went back to her duties, I figured I should, too.
But there were chains in the back of my mind reeling me towards distraction. I shook my head. These papers were important, and some of them were already three days overdue. It was about time I cracked down and got the tasks off my plate, so to speak.
It's my problem. I'll work it out.
When dusk hit, I'd made appreciable progress in my workload for the first time in what felt like weeks. But it didn't feel like enough. I stood up from the desk to get some blood back into my legs and arms. Perusing the stack of papers on it, I decided that beating myself up over it wasn't worth the trouble. Take your mind off things for now.
So instead, I decided to have a proper looking-through of the room around me. It was rectangular, with a ceiling high enough not to be cramped, but closed just enough to give the space a cozy atmosphere. That was very much welcome. Adding to that homely coziness, the lights were a warm orange, the bed was surprisingly cushy for a warship, and aside from the desk and nightstand, there was a tiny circular table with two high seats on the side of the room, presumably for the rare occasion that I'd need to entertain a guest in my quarters.
I was about to lie in until Howe called for dinner when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," I said.
Once again in near-flawless timing with the thoughts in my head, it was Howe who swung the door open. "James? We're getting another transmission. He wouldn't identify himself. 'For your ears only,' and I quote."
Mysterious. "Alright, I'll head over right now. Make sure everyone's alert, too. Something about an unidentified transmission tells me there might be something out there."
"Aye, aye," she nodded before walking off dutifully.
I drew a calming breath to still myself before heading over to the station room to handle this unidentified caller.
"Hello?" I started uncertainly. This time around, there was no video, leaving me to rely solely on audio cues to communicate with the person on the other end.
The static cleared up and revealed a rather friendly sounding voice that took me a little off guard, if underwhelmed in some weird way. Perhaps I was expecting some kind of voice changer like in an action film. Oh, well. "Hello? Is this Captain Leighway?"
"Yes, this is," I frowned. "Who is this and how do you know my name?"
"Well, we'll be working together in the future, so get used to me knowing some things. You might as well learn mine, too. You can call me Maxwell," the voice on the other end replied.
I shrugged, not seeing much else I could do. "Alright, Maxwell. What is this about?"
"This is an encrypted transmission that only you and I know about. Do not tell anyone in your task force until such time you deem it appropriate. Use your best judgment," he warned darkly.
"…Alright," I hesitated. "Before you start with anything else, you haven't answered my question. Who are you? I'm going to need more than a name, I'm afraid."
He grumbled some annoyance before replying, "I'm Agent Maxwell from the International Reactionary Defense Initiative. Yes, you've never heard of the organization before because no one else has or is supposed to," he said before I could question that very point, "And we haven't gotten involved in endeavors revolving around Azur Lane because it hadn't been deemed necessary until now. Are you ready to listen?"
He asked that last point a little hurriedly as if he was in the middle of something. I still had to tread carefully, but if he was offering help, I wasn't about to bite the hand that would feed me. "I'm not really in the Azur Lane, but... Sure, I'm all ears."
"Great, thank you," he said snappily. "You heard of that major Sakura force amassing from a few days ago, yes?"
"Ah, the report from the Eagle Union? Yes, I have," I replied.
"Alright. Did you know it left earlier this morning?"
What? "That, I did not know." My thoughts began echoing to the brief the other day with Theodore. You're more likely to be attacked by Sakura forces than anything else, the Admiral had said.
"Thought so," Maxwell mused. "Well, anyway. We tried finding it on close, mid, and far range scopes and turned up nothing. They vanished."
"That sounds just grand," I joked dryly.
"Doesn't it," he played along, coaxing a chuckle out of me. "But the good news is, we found it. Would you like to know where it is?"
"Do I need to pay extra?"
"No, you don't," he snickered. "They were spotted a week or so away from Norway just a few hours ago."
…What in the queen's name? Doing my best to not sound like my jaw was hanging slightly, I slowly uttered, "That sounds…well…"
"Yep, exactly," he said, saving me from having to comment. "We theorize your two forces are after the same objective. Bismarck's sister, right?"
"Tell you what, you do seem to know everything," I quipped.
"I don't. I know enough, though. Enough to warn you in advance. We can't send assistance yet, though there might be a chance we'll see each other at Norway," he said, still with a sense of urgency in his voice.
Sighing, I replied, "Regardless, that means there will be combat."
"I guess so, yeah."
"Great. Does Commander McConnell know about this?"
"Not yet. We're still thinking of when to let him in on the play," he replied. "For now, though, just keep this information in mind. Forces bigger than we can imagine have been put into play. Keep your wits about you." Abruptly, his voice seemed to get even more rushed. "Anyway, I gotta go–"
"Hang on," I stopped him swiftly. "What exactly do you want us to do about the Sakura when we run into them at Norway? Destroy them? Capture them? What's the protocol there?"
"Ah, right, right," he said. "Sorry, almost forgot about that. Thanks. Incapacitate them."
"Perfect," I replied laced with sarcasm. "How do you think we're going to do that?"
"Agh," he grunted, sounding as if he were racking his mind violently for an answer. "Look, I don't know, okay? You command a very unique naval force and you're known for that brain of yours. Use them to your advantage!"
Before I could reply, the sound of a distant explosion came through the speaker, causing my eyes to widen a little. "Is everything alright over there, Agent?"
"Name's Maxwell," he grunted drily. "And I guess you could say kind of. Anyway, the most likely scenario is you'll just incapacitate the Sakura when you run into each other and leave them floundering in the water. We'll handle the cleanup from there, so you don't have to."
Clearly, all this was way beyond my paygrade or what I'd signed up for. Given the limited information, I guess the best course of action is to figure it out as we go. Let's not forget those 'new bells & whistles' that Admiral Theodore had cooked up, too. With Maxwell's advanced warning, he'd given me the perfect tidbit I'd needed to maximize the use of the new tech. And seeing as he seemed to know more about what was happening than me, it figures that the best play right now is to simply go along and keep everyone alive in the process. "Understood, Agent Maxwell. Incapacitate the Sakura when we engage them, leave them in the water for you to take care of. Am I missing anything else?"
He sighed in relief before replying, "Yeah, I think that's about it. Just remember not to tell anyone else until you judge that the time is right. We don't want the Sakura thinking you know they're there. Yeah, the chances of you running into them on the water is pretty slim, but you know."
"Better safe than sorry," I agreed. "How can I reach you should there be updates or concerns?"
"Uh…I'll transmit a packet later containing my contact details. I gotta bounce for – Shit!" I clenched my teeth as another explosion came in through the other's mic. "Yeah," Maxwell panted when the noise died down. "I gotta go. See you when I see you, Captain."
"And you. Keep safe, Maxwell."
Just like that, he was disconnected before anything else could be exchanged. That left me feeling the whole conversation was so completely strange.
How could a force originating in Japan get the whole way over to Norway? And why would they even bother with such a troublesome route? Surely securing Tirpitz couldn't be that valuable. I couldn't think of any purpose it would serve aside from perhaps acquiring a bargaining chip to get the Ironbloods to–
Oh.
Having reached that foreboding conclusion, I decided that it was a good thing we, at the very least, had the chance of arriving at roughly the same time. The question would come down to the hours. Given the new threats, I factored them into my mission plan. I would update my force on the new situation two days from arrival. We'd need a way to guarantee an effective incapacitant within our limited range and maneuvering space. All while protecting an individual who may not be at her peak operating efficiency. No sweat.
There it goes up on the ledger of other things to swirl in the whirlpool of my mind. Did I even want to do any of this? Is my heart still in it to look out for these people who are counting on me? Would it even be possible to fulfill the objectives I'd been given anymore?
Thankfully, Howe stepped in just before I could spiral further down that path of self-doubt and destruction, knocking lightly on the door before opening it. "Supper's ready, James!"
I jolted up from the seat and looked at her with a startled expression. "Ah…sure. I'll be right down."
"Alright!" She closed the door and was off once again.
Afraid to be alone in a room with my current thoughts, it didn't take me much longer to hurry after.
"So, what did the mystery caller want?" Howe asked from her seat.
Everyone else either slowed their eating or paused, cocking brows at me with curiosity. I could inform them of our circumstances right now, perhaps save myself the trouble, but that carries the side effect of potentially panicking some of them, too. Part of the full picture will suffice for now. "The mystery caller was an agent who identified himself as Maxwell. He's from the IRDI, an organization I'm sure none of us have heard of before, but I'm led to believe it's true. He also just wanted to check in on our operation."
"Why is that," Prinz Eugen asked.
"Similar reasons to Commander McConnell's call," I replied as casually as I could. "Just in case he could offer any future assistance, then he's ready and willing."
"'Tis quite convenient to has't so many comrades eft and willing, isn't it," Vampire mused.
I thought I picked up on a layer of suspicion coating her words. I shrugged and replied, "Would you rather we have none?"
"Nay, I supposeth not so," she chuckled. "Though an exsufflicate alliance is equally as deadly as an outright opponent."
"Well, an enemy, yes," I said. "Not an opponent. Even opponents can become allies in the heat of the moment."
"What's the difference," Charybdis piped up curiously.
"An enemy is an enemy," I replied. "They are hostile to us, and we respond in kind. There is no doubt an enemy has to be destroyed. But an opponent's loyalties are, as I've said, subject to change without prior notice. One second, you're dueling. But if the circumstances shift, so too can the opponent's affiliation. There are more options when dealing with an opponent, then."
"You can destroy them if necessary, neutralize them, or forge an alliance with them if applicable," Z23 supplied.
I nodded approvingly. "There, see? You're getting it."
They all chuckled, and some returned to their dishes when Howe asked, "So, do you view the Ironbloods as allies, opponents, or enemies?"
The two German representatives at the table eyed me once again. I took one look at them before shrugging and replying, "That should go without saying. These Ironbloods are allies," I gestured at Z23 and Prinz Eugen. "An Ironblood that shoots at us is an opponent. An Ironblood that hates or is fully hostile towards us and proceeds to act on that hostility is an enemy."
Howe nodded at the concise answer. "Interesting way of seeing things."
I hummed before taking another scoop of the soup. "This is good. Did you make this again?" I asked her.
The battleship giggled and shook her head. "Though I'd love to take credit, Charybdis took up the kitchen for this one. She's done a smashing job, hasn't she?"
"That she has," I nodded at the maid to her delight. "Well done, Charybdis."
"Thank you, master," she grinned from ear to ear.
So the rest of the evening went, conversation and insightful banter about strategies, the war, and food filling the galley. When everyone was finished and had departed for their own ships to retire for the night, it was just Howe and I once again left alone as the cleanup detail. Not that that was cause for complaint. "Hey, Howe," I began with a friendly tone, "I think I'm actually starting to enjoy doing these boring chores with you. Is that strange?"
Howe laughed from the sink as she grabbed another plate to begin washing down. "It's only as strange as you make it out to be, James."
"You have a point," I conceded with a thin smile.
"What is strange, though," she said, "is how you didn't give us the whole truth about what Maxwell wanted."
I froze and put the serviette back in the drawer slowly before sliding the compartment shut. Turning to look at Howe who had likewise turned off the faucet and had me locked in a keen gaze, I narrowed my eyes slightly and wondered aloud, "How did you know?"
She smirked and shrugged. "I pick up on things like that. If it's supposed to be confidential, you can tell me. My lips are sealed."
I pursed my lips and thought for a moment before deciding on it. What's the worst that could happen? Howe seems cool and collected enough. "He informed me of the whereabouts of that Sakura Empire task force that was spotted amassing in a port a few days ago."
Now with sparked interest, she faced me and tilted her head. "The one the Union reported? Where are they," she asked when I nodded.
"Approximately one week away from hitting the same spot we are. For the same reasons we are. Though with slightly different intentions," I replied.
"What?" Howe flabbergasted softly. "That's impossible. A Japanese fleet in the North Atlantic?"
"It is impossible, it is a Japanese fleet, and yes, they are in the North Atlantic," I quipped. "The good news is we at least know why they're here. And I have a few ideas of how we're going to handle them. Unfortunately, we don't quite know how they got here."
She shook her head and winced. "That makes me nervous."
"My thoughts exactly. If they utilized some other methods of instant transport between two oceans, I don't want to think about the possibility they might have quite the head start in the technology department," I said darkly. "But, either way. Don't tell anyone else about this until two days from Håkøya. We don't want to panic anyone or arouse suspicion from anyone who may somehow be listening."
"Well, as I said," she replied while seeming to recollect her thoughts, "my lips are sealed."
"Thank you."
"Of course," she said. "Besides, even with that information, it doesn't change much in our immediate schedule. Does it?"
"No, it doesn't," I assented. "So, I'm thinking I could spend the next few days making good on my promise and visiting the others in the fleet. Get acquainted with them, maybe familiarize myself more with what they're good at in a battle. We'll need whatever we've got if we're going to make it out of this mission with all our objectives intact."
"Yes, I suppose this mission just became much more than a search & rescue," she replied thoughtfully.
"Still not a hunt, though," I said, swiftly seizing the opportunity presented to me.
She gave me a look halfway between knowing laughter and comic disbelief. "Whatever you say, James," she shook her head whilst returning to the dishes.
I snickered back and allowed myself one more look at her before likewise carrying on with my packings. Yes, the ship isn't nearly as populated as the ones I'm more acclimated to. And yet, I'm admittedly starting to like this change of pace a bit more than I'd expected.
