"Oh, Kapitän," Prinz Eugen greeted us as we walked onto her bridge. "What can I do for you? Actually, how did you get here?"
"Ah…you don't need to know," I waved.
Before the German cruiser could say anything, Howe decided Prinz very much needed to know. "I brought him over," she snickered mischievously.
I shot Howe a look that made her giggle while Eugen simpered lightly at the implication. "Well, I would've liked to see that," she joked coolly.
"Trust me, you wouldn't," I retorted. "Anyway, I'm simply here to have a chat with you, if you don't mind."
"Swiftly changed topics, I see," she said, her eye glinting. "Very well. Will she be with us?"
"Oh, unfortunately not," Howe gestured towards her ship and exited the room. "I've got to watch the pot. Just call me back when you need a pick-up, Captain!"
"Yep, yep," I replied dryly.
Prinz chuckled and pulled up two chairs, facing them towards the viewport and positioning them next to each other. "Would you like to have a seat, sir?"
"Certainly, thanks," I replied seating myself on the left chair. Eugen sat down on the right, and I decided to take the initiative. "So, how have you been?"
She eyed me with a raised brow and replied, "If that's how you think you'll win a woman over, allow me to inform you otherwise."
I chuckled but discerned that was the opening I needed. "Come on, you know this isn't like that. We've barely spoken to each other outside of meals. That response does make me curious, though."
"That response," she echoed curiously. "What do you mean?"
"I went through the transcript of your interview with Commander McConnell in preparation for the extended duration of this mission," I said. "Please don't take any offense for the assumptions I've drawn, but you seem to always keep this air of flirtatiousness about you. Again, this isn't to speak of you derogatorily or anything like that. Just an observation of mine. Would you lend me some insight into that?"
Prinz kept her gaze on me, examining for anything she might use to read what was running through my head. Then, she hummed and nodded. "You're good, Kapitän. Perhaps I can lend some insight. But just for you."
Not letting too much of my surprise at her willingness to speak up show, I confirmed, "My ears only."
She sighed and finally broke the piercing eye contact she'd as yet succeeded in maintaining. Looking at the ground to think for a moment, she drew a deep breath. Then, she began speaking while gazing at the seas outside the viewport. "I don't know."
I nodded, spinning my internal note-taker up. Some of them may not show it in their personalities, McConnell had advised. Tread on certain topics carefully.
Some of them may not show the quirks in their personalities. But others would, as I surmised from some personnel files I'd also happened upon in my 'research' of sorts. Vampire and Duke of York with their speech patterns. King George V and her very monarch-like charisma. Prince of Wales and some deep-running scars from her unfortunate history. Prinz Eugen and her teasing nature.
"I've thought long and hard about this question as well, Kapitän," she continued. "There were nights after a successful but tiring day when I'd lay my head on the pillow and wonder why I'm like this. Did I decide to be like this when I was constructed? Was it predetermined by the cubes, further proof that I am just a mechanical pawn, manipulated into a cursed state of unbreachable servitude? Proof that I am truly doomed to forever just be a weapon of war, and anything resembling my humanity is simply a façade, an illusion?"
What she said gave me pause. That was surprisingly deep coming from her, a degree of introspection and openness that I admittedly hadn't expected. You have to remember they come from a warlike context, McConnell had also advised. Treat them like friends. Because, I suppose, they very well could be.
Before too long, Prinz found the words to resume. "Or maybe it was the exact opposite of that. Perhaps this mechanism of mine, ironic as it sounds, is proof of that humanity in itself. That, stemming from human psychology and, more important, emotion…my mind constructed a defense from the pain I experienced. You know how I was eventually sunk, yes?"
"I do," I replied sympathetically. "Crossroads?"
"Yes," she choked.
When she looked at me, I noticed hints of mist forming in her eyes, and that sparked genuine concern. I sat more at attention and leaned closer to her, putting a hand on her back. "Are you okay? We don't need to continue this if it's uncomfortable–"
"Nein, nein," she waved before I could finish. "It's out there. Best to finish the job."
Morbid sense of humor, huh? "…Alright. Take your time, there's no rush."
"Danke," she nodded. Out of somewhere, she produced a handkerchief to wipe away a streak running down her face. She gulped one more time and then continued. "So, yes. My theory is that I tease, poke, and prod in an attempt to garner approval. Because, in my subconscious, whether or not it is true…"
"You fear that if you don't endear yourself to someone somehow, you'll end up in the same disastrous boat," I finished for her. She looked at me with the most forced smirk she could muster when I realized what I'd just done. "Sorry. Pun not intended."
Shaking her head, she replied, "It's alright. And yes. That sums it up."
I nodded, taking that in and processing. Her initial response had proved to be an opening but to something far deeper and more personal than I thought I would get. There I was, thinking it would be a quick questions-and-answers segment about her strengths and weakness, and that would be that. Now, here I am with someone I barely knew opening up about what was probably one of their deepest and most buried thoughts and feelings. Although it wasn't what I'd been expecting, I wasn't going to set it aside, either. First, it would be uncalled for. Second, I'd look like a twat. Scratch that, I would be a twat.
"That's…" I floundered, trying to find the words. "I'm sorry for digging up those thoughts. It wasn't my intention."
"I understand, Kapitän," Prinz replied. "I apologize for getting so emotional. But it is what you asked for."
"I guess it was," I said rubbing my hand gently up and down her back. "So don't apologize. It's completely normal. And it's more evidence to back up your case."
"My case?"
"That you're more than just a weapon now," I said. "You're human. All of you are. D'you know what the Commander said to me when he called?" She raised a brow at me and I continued, "He told me that there are a lot of differences between commanding a 'regular human' task force and a task force of…well, you guys. Some of these differences, I'd already inferred for myself. But there was something he pointed out that I doubted."
She sniffled a little before asking, "What was it?"
"He told me that striking up a personal – though the word he used was 'casual' – conversation with you would be one of the best things I could do for you," I replied. "I'd doubted that because I didn't think we could possibly get so personally acquainted. And yet, in some three days, I somehow feel that I can trust you and Howe with my most distressing thoughts more than most."
"And how has that changed your perception, then," she asked.
"It's changed completely. I hadn't even noticed until just now. But I've gotten personally attached to the people in this force," I replied. "That is yet more evidence of your humanity. You don't need to endear yourself with, frankly, cheap means to stay among the living here. And although that teasing side of you could very well be a part of your personality anyway – and there's nothing wrong that – right now, it's simply been amplified as, like you said–"
"–A defense mechanism," she concluded thoughtfully. Her emotions had now calmed down, and she returned to her cool cadence. I found myself relieved at the shift back on course.
"Precisely," I said with approval. Taking my hand off her back so she could sit up, I decided to wrap the topic with a bow. "Don't doubt your humanity, Prinz. Don't doubt your worth to the people around you. You're more than a weapon that can be disposed of when it's gone obsolete. And if there so happens to be someone who thinks that way, point me to them and I'll gladly reeducate them."
She laughed genuinely at the quip and looked at me with a small smile. "Vielen dank, Kapitän. This conversation ended up…quite something."
"I'm glad you feel that way," I grinned back. "And now, I suppose we can turn to a less emotionally taxing topic. Unless you feel you need some alone time, of course."
"No, no," she said. "It is the least I can do. You don't seem fully aware of it, but you really pulled me out of a pit just now. Ask away."
Increased operating efficiency and morale. "Thank you. I still don't mean to intrude too far, though, so I'll keep it quick regardless. What do you think you're most suited to do when on the battlefield? Right up there on the frontal assault, playing support from the sides, taking the role of a shield of sorts…?"
She hummed and thought carefully before answering. "I think that last one about being a supporting defensive. Unfortunately, I wasn't graced with combat prowess as some of the others are. But I have my wits, and more importantly, my experience."
"Experience does outrank everything," I agreed.
"I'm glad we see eye to eye on that," she said. "Anyway, if you were wondering how you might maximize me on a battlefield, that's your answer. Maybe a bait setup, or to put it crudely, a meat shield," she joked.
"Or, when combined with the right partner…" I thought aloud, mind wandering to Z23. "Alright, I've got it. Thank you so much for your input and insight, Prinz. It'll be very helpful. And thank you for being open with me. It means a lot, and I promise you your trust isn't misplaced."
We both stood up from our chairs as she nodded. "Thank you once more, Kapitän. You can call me Eugen." She held her hand out, and we shook on it.
"Eugen," I smirked. "That will work." She simpered back as I walked toward the door. I still didn't exactly want her around when I called for Howe to literally pick me up. I dread the verbal jabs she might take with that opportunity. Turning around before leaving, I asked, "I'll see you at dinner?"
"Mhm~!" She hummed from the room.
I noted the more sincere happiness in her tone from that last response before heading towards the open-air deck.
"So, how did it go," Howe asked as she set me back down on her deck. "Well, I hope?"
"Your hopes are met," I reported positively. "She actually ended up telling me about a personal struggle she's been really grappling with."
The blonde cocked a brow and chirped with interest as we made for the superstructure for a light snack. "What was the struggle? If it isn't confidential, of course," she added.
"Well, out of respect for her, I won't go into detail," I said. "But I trust you. The gist is essentially that she's been having some issues with her past and personality."
"Wow," Howe mused as we rounded the corner to the galley. "That doesn't sound pleasant."
"Not at all," I agreed. "Thankfully, though, I think I said the right things and got through to her. She sounded quite elated when I left."
Howe herself looked elated at that news and smiled, pulling out some trays of pastries from the oven. "That's lovely! Well done, James."
I forgot I allowed her to call me that. Hearing her say it out of nowhere gave me a little kick. Not that I'm complaining. "Thank you. It really is something to be gaining trust among you. There's an added weight to it somehow, but it's not like a pressure-bearing-down kind of weight."
"I think I get that," she nodded as we both sat at the table. Once we were settled in, Howe started partitioning the cookies to our preferences. "Perhaps it's, as you said, the fact that it's largely one-on-one a lot of the time. That makes our interactions far more personal."
"Oh no, I think it's exactly that," I agreed. "And it's honestly quite a welcome pace. Quite a refreshing thing to have people who can open up to me. In turn, that ensures that I can open up to you, both on an emotional and practical level."
She tilted her head whilst taking a bite of her snack. "A pwactical level?"
Inwardly, I chuckled softly at the cute fumbling of her words. "On the emotional side of things, it's the simple fact that when one is completely honest to the other, it becomes a symbiotic, mutual relationship. I know your baggage, you know mine. On the practical side, though it's blunt, reprievable, and quite unprofessional, it also means that should one at some point cross or betray the other, the effects are balanced out if the traitor hadn't planned ahead."
"That's one way of looking at it," she chuckled. "Are you always thinking so much like a tactician?"
I shrugged at her subtle shot. "It's one of the things that's kept me sane all these years. And it keeps my head above water when stress and anxiety really start to roll in."
"So that's what you're 'going through,'" she said with sudden insight in her voice.
Hm. She picks up on things like that. "Huh?" I raised a brow, trying to sound as innocent as I could.
"You told me on your first day that you were going through some personal problems. Is it that stress-slash-anxiety, or at least something related to it?"
A symbiotic, mutual relationship. "Yeah," I finally replied with a tired smile and hesitant manner. "About everything, honestly. Life, work, the people I love, the war that might kill them and myself…"
Howe stopped munching and set everything down, leaning just a little closer to look into my eyes. I looked right back at hers. As we gazed, I wondered what she might be thinking in her mind. Before I knew it, I found myself preoccupied with something a little more obvious.
She is lovely. Her eyes told me wondrous stories without a single word. Little emerald-green worlds emblazoned on her face. I felt a strange sense of refuge in them that nothing else had given me before. It made my heart flutter.
"I never noticed you have blue eyes," she commented.
"Well, I do," I replied with an equally soft tone of voice, pushing back the intense emotions that had started bubbling with my…intent observations. "Do you think they'd look better if they weren't hiding a storm in my head all day?"
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Are you certain you don't want to tell me more?"
I sighed and looked down at the table. "Not now, sorry. Don't worry. I know I should, and I will. I just need more time to toss and turn it in my head."
She nodded, but replied, "But you know what happens to feelings that you toss and turn. You eventually lose track of them and they disappear into the ground. That doesn't mean they're gone, though."
"No," I bounced off her. "Instead, they grow and fester over time."
"Exactly that," she said using my words from earlier. "I'll give you more time, James. We all will. And don't feel pressured to talk about it if you're not ready. But when I see that it not only starts hurting this force and my comrades, but it starts hurting you, too?"
I raised a brow and looked at her with a thin smile.
"I will do something about it," she finished.
"Thank you," I replied. "Really. That means the world."
"Of course, James."
"Hello?" I walked through the door to bridge uncertainly at the strange silence that permeated through it. The viewports were open to the scenery outside, so any eeriness was taken out. It was simply that there was no one here that made it quite unusual. "Z23? Zed? Are you in here?"
"Agh!" Someone gasped to my left. My gaze shot in the direction to see a rather sweated Z23 pop up from underneath a console. "Tut mir leid, Herr Kapitän. I had to deal with a malfunctioning control surface."
"Oh, it's no issue," I assured, walking over to her. "Can I help with anything?"
"I feel it should be me asking you that," she raised a brow. "So, I will. Can I help you with anything?"
Chuckling at her quick-witted reply, I pulled a chair up and sat as she watched. "Just a quick chat."
"Similar to Frau Eugen, then?" Z23 asked politely, grabbing a chair of her own and placing herself down on it. "Absolutely, sir."
"Did she tell you about it?" I asked, scratching my head. "I was only on break for fifteen minutes…"
"She stopped by some ten minutes ago and we discussed it briefly. I must thank you for accepting her grievances so readily, sir," Z23 said. "It admittedly surprised me to learn that she'd spoken her mind to you just like that, but I suppose she saw the opportunity and took it."
"Well, you're both very welcome. As I said, my priority is treating you like people," I replied with a friendly look. "I'm looking to do that every step of the way."
"And it is an admirable objective, sir," the destroyer smiled. "I am especially glad that Eugen has found the one who would listen to her the way you did."
"Doesn't she have a sister?" I asked. "No offense, of course. But I would've assumed that they talked about it, too. Certainly, I'm not the first one."
And yet, Z23 shook her head. "Admiral Hipper does her best to be a caring elder sister, we can all see that. Unfortunately, she still hasn't quite learned how to receive deep intrapersonal reflection very well. Especially coming from her Kleine Schwester."
For fear of asking the obvious, I simply inferred that kleine schwester translates to little sister. "I see. Eugen holds no blame towards her, I hope?"
"No, no," Z23 shook her head. "Those two are a rare case of actually being quite close in a very familial way. It's just that Hipper's disposition tends to be a little…prickly sometimes. It's honestly also why I'm hoping Kommandant McConnell might be able to show her a little thing or two."
"Interesting," I replied. "How do you mean?"
"I…would overhear some of his conversations with uh…Monarch. To me it sounds like he has a lot of experience with life and things like that," she shrugged. "Maybe some of that can be passed on to Hipper as it's been passed to Monarch, and surely has been passed to other people under his command."
"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" I said thoughtfully while trying not to chuckle at the mental image in my head. Commander McConnell as a father figure…
"Anyway, putting all that aside," Z23 said before my head could wander further. "What is it you want to discuss with me? You will be happy to know I don't really have any major personal issues," she added with a hint of humor.
"I am happy to know that, as a matter of fact," I played along. "And I simply wanted to talk to you about your capabilities. Where do you think you do best in terms of battlefield mechanics? As a bruiser, a distraction, a gunner, whatever else it may be. I want insight into your value as a tactical asset."
"I thought I was a living, breathing human girl," she quipped.
"You are," I smirked. "But when we get into a scrim, you're also a ship. So, I'd like to get to know you as a person and as a tactical asset."
"Crude way of putting that, but sure," Z23 conceded, sitting up in her seat and swaying her legs gently. "As a destroyer, I'm sure you and I both know my primary strength is dealing big damage, fast, using torpedoes. Though, I've been told that my gunnery skills are better than most when it comes to my category of ships."
"So you're quick on your feet, know how to use your torpedoes, and can shoot decently well," I summarized.
"Yes, I can buzz hardpoints or weapons clusters if you need me to," she confirmed. "Those would be strong suits."
"And do you think you'd be better off doing these tasks on your own or with one or two others riding shotgun?"
She paused to evaluate. "I'd like a partner with me under ideal circumstances, but I also know how to work and succeed alone when I'm needed to."
"Great," I grinned. "That sounds perfect. Do you have anything else to add before I head back? I promised to help Howe with supper. Well, I actually promised to help with breakfast earlier, but things got sidetracked," I rescinded with a pang of guilt. Howe said it was alright, but I knew she wasn't happy about it. Not that she was angry or anything, but certainly down a little.
"You two seem to have grown rather close," Z23 said narrowing her eyes. "Though, I guess that's just natural seeing as she's your flagship. No, I don't suppose I have much else to say for now, Herr Kapitän. If additional ideas do crop up, I will make sure to inform you."
Brushing past her initial remarks, I stood up and nodded. "Alright. I'll see you when supper calls, then, Z23."
She stood and held out a hand. "Danke. And you really can call me Zed. Much more convenient."
"Well, yes, but I didn't think it personally appropriate without at least spending some time with you first," I pointed out. "Though now that I have, I will definitely start using it. You're right, it's more convenient."
We shook on it and bade each other farewell.
"Okay, so all you're doing is watching the pots and making sure nothing gets burnt or boils over," Howe explained patiently.
In front of us on the stove sat the two pots she was referring to, one holding meat and veggies, the other filled with broth that had a beef bone in it. They smelled fantastic, as was starting to become the convention with Howe's cooking, though I still hadn't a clue what they were. "Where did you learn to cook all this?"
"George and I have similar ways of passing free time," she said while depositing some used kitchenware into the sink. "I teach her how to bake things, and she 'repays' me in turn with how to cook things. It's good fun!"
"I'm sure it is," I said before swiftly realizing I had another opportunity here. "There's always something about learning things from your sibling. My brother and I both delved into music at one point, for instance. He was the guitarist."
She furrowed a brow at me, first in surprise, then curiosity, then some slight confusion. "You have a brother? And what did you mean by that second bit? What did you play?"
"One, yes. Two and three, I played the drums." I shrugged and sighed wistfully while making sure to keep my eyes on the pots so as not to miss Howe's instruction. "Although, drums can't exactly make melodies unless you have an absurd number of toms. So more of that melodic side of the music came from him. I was the one that made people move, though."
"Toms?" She echoed quizzically.
"Ah," I said. "The drum kit has multiple different pieces. The biggest one you strike with a foot pedal is fittingly called the kick drum or bass drum. The one that makes the loud tack sound is the snare drum. The cymbal used to keep the beat that makes the clicking noise is called the hi-hat. The loudest cymbal is generally the crash cymbal. The alternative to the high hat for timekeeping is the ride, though sometimes rides can also crash. The toms," I paused to emphasize, "Are the ones that make the thundering toom-toom sounds."
At the end of the crash course on drum pieces, Howe had her eyes narrowed as if she needed some very intense focus to get everything that I was saying. Finally, she replied with some hesitation, "I see. Are you still super into music?"
I sighed regretfully. "Unfortunately, not very much. It's been ages since I've been able to sit down behind a kit. Life caught up with me. Though I still appreciate the art form, listening to and playing music has become a smaller part of my daily routine than I'd have liked them to become. But when do things ever go according to plan one hundred percent?"
"I suppose the answer to that is never," Howe surmised. "Can you name a favorite band?"
Chuckling self-deprecatingly, I replied, "I would be able to maybe eight years ago. Not so much now."
She hummed. "Well, have you heard of Coldplay?"
"They sound familiar. Aren't they the ones who made Yellow?"
"Yeah, those are the ones," Howe grinned. Her eyes lit up like I hadn't seen before and she continued, "I love their brand of alternative rock. Even though they've changed their sound through the years, I still appreciate the kind of pop they ended up with. Parachutes, Mylo Xyloto, and A Head Full of Dreams are still some of my favorite albums to this day. You should take a listen to them if you've got the time." Before I could reply, she added, "Oh! I almost forgot Viva la Vida. I think, instrumentally and lyrically, it's their most interesting release by far. And Monarch would agree with me! Although unfortunately, my other sisters aren't that into music, I think you might be able to – I've gone off again haven't I," she trailed and started blushing.
I only laughed gently as she seemed to shrink a little. "It's alright. You really like these guys, huh? I might just give them a listen after work. I can't for the life of me focus while music is playing. I don't know how some people do it."
Recovering from her 'tangent,' Howe took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it takes a type of person. Do let me know if you end up listening to Coldplay. I'd love to hear your thoughts as someone who plays the drums."
"Absolutely," I replied. Opportunity, seized. If you're into music, McConnell said, talk about it. Howe might appreciate that. "Anyway, we can pick this chat up again at some point," I gestured to the pot. "It's starting to really steam up."
"Oh," she yelped, turning the knob back to its starting point, shutting off the heat. "I did not notice that! Thanks for keeping an eye on it. Let's get back to work, shall we?"
When supper reached its logical conclusion, Howe was working her usual routine, washing the dishes and soaping up the utensils. James was further out in the galley, tidying up everything else, putting clean unused kitchenware in the cupboards, etcetera. And though he was making good progress, Howe found something strange happening with her own workflow.
She could not focus.
Try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from sneaking glances at him whenever she got the opportunity. When she turned to put a plate on the rack, when she paused for a breather and grabbed a sip of water, when she would put a glass over on the holders, her eyes would snap in his direction. Her heart would skip a beat when she saw him.
It nearly stopped when he noticed.
"You okay," he asked, setting the rug down and using the quick break to walk over to her.
"Uhm," Howe stuttered, putting on her most nonchalant tone. "No…"
"No? What's wrong?" His face grew concerned and he leaned closer to get a better assessment of her.
"…I mean! No, nothing's wrong," she replied. "I'm fine! We're all," she gestured to the soaking dishes, "fine here. Are you fine?"
James furrowed a brow, chuckled, and put a hand on his chest. "Yes, I am. I think I'm fine. Are you sure you're fine?"
"Absolutely," she chipped. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You just gestured at the dishes and said that you were all collectively fine," he deadpanned jestingly, "so I figured you might be hiding something."
Bollocks, Howe thought to herself while regaining her mental footing. Thankfully, she'd picked up a few tricks from her limited interactions with Commander McConnell. "Alright, look. I'm just worried about you, James," she replied, putting as much sincerity in her voice as she could. "You said it yourself. There's a storm brewing in your head. I know I shouldn't overstep but do understand if I'm finding it troubling to do so."
He sighed and nodded. Howe saw the regret in his eyes as he replied, "Thank you. I suppose I'm not going to tell you to stop worrying about it, either. But I should once again advise you not to pressure yourself over it. I'll work my thoughts out, and I promise I'll tell you all about it."
"Sure," Howe replied gently. "I love that you're doing your best to help other people here. I'm just making sure you can help yourself, too. Out here, everybody needs somebody to lean on. That includes you."
"Of course," he said softly. "Anyway, if you're all clear here, I suppose I'll get back to bed. See you in the morning."
"See you, sir," she replied with a nod.
