Chapter I: The Old Guard, and the New Blood
Date: Aug. 15. 1949
Location: [RECACTED], Pacific Ocean
The Pacific sun caressed his exposed fair skin, feeling like a lover's kiss. It almost tempted him to strip off his uniform and bask in its welcoming embrace. This sensation was far different compared to his home. It was a far more pleasant experience than the cold bitterness of the Atlantic. The sky was clear, with only a few clouds lazily drifting along with its light blue canvas.
The man stood at the bow of the ship. His black overcoat and white pants were freshly pressed and clean. While it was far too warm for such a heavy coat, he wore it out of habit. The golden buttons glinted on his coat, with coloured ribbons pinned proudly on his chest. He smiled as he pulled out a pack of John Players from within his coat. The man slipped a cigarette between his lips and ignited his zippo lighter. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips as took a starting drag. "It's nice to be back after so long," he said to himself. "It feels like a lifetime ago…" taking another puff as he let his mind go adrift to the peaceful ambiance of the ocean.
While he enjoyed his smoke and the ocean, he failed to notice a lone figure gracefully approach him. "Captain Levesque, sir," a young feminine voice spoke with an English accent, "we are approaching the island. I would suggest you get ready for your departure." He paused for a moment, then turned toward the source of the voice.
Before him, stood a beautiful young woman. Although she looked like she was better suited to serve in a castle or an estate, rather than on a warship. She wore what he could only describe as a modified maids dress. It was black and white in colour, with light blue accents. Her shoulders were bare, but she wore what looked like black garters on her upper arms. She also had a window that showed off her pleasantly sized chest. Her white apron was attached to her matching corset, with thick filly black and white bands that connected to her collar. She possessed black silken stockings, with matching dress shoes. The woman's skin was what he could only describe as porcelain. Pure and creamy, while her dark-brown hair cascaded down her back, with breathtaking silver eyes. Even the black and white parasol, she held with practiced finesse. In his mind, she was far too beautiful to be on a warship, let alone being a literal weapon of war. Even after all these years, Samuel still tried to comprehend the foreign idea. "Thank you very much, Miss Newcastle," he smiled kindly, "thank you for being my protection and transport."
The shipgirl gave a small smile and curtsied. "No need to thank me, Captain. It is my duty to serve those of the Royal Navy and her Commonwealth." As she turned away, she gave him a parting glance. A small frown creased her beautiful face. "I would advise that you quit that nasty habit of yours, Captain. It is very unbecoming of a man of your station, and more importantly to your health." The captain stood in place for a few moments as she gracefully departed, his smoke lazily burning between his lips. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and gazed toward their destination. He could quit whenever he wanted to.
Just cresting over the horizon, he could faintly spot the tall cliffs and mountain formations of his destination. Conning towers of more than several naval vessels started to come into view as well. It was quite a sight, and it seemed he was in command of an extensive fleet as well. A small smirk creased his lips as he took another drag of his smoke, and pulled out a manila folder from within his coat. The four-pointed star of NATO on the front, along with the word 'CLASSIFIED' stamped in red. He didn't know what to think of the infant organization. Was it actually going to help the world, or was it going to be an absolute quagmire like the now-defunct League of Nations? Whatever his feelings were - his country joined, and he was given his orders. With a drawn-out sigh, he opened its contents once again, and let his eyes scan it over again.
It infuriated the captain to no end. This – now dishonourably discharged – Commander Gregory T. Adams' record was covered in so much black ink that he could write a novel with it. All that he could ascertain was that he was born in Detroit Michigan, in 1921. Graduated at the top of his class, and joined the naval officer corps when he was only 18. The man served on the USS Arizona. He seemed to disappear off the record after the attack on Pearl Harbour. Everything else afterwards, is shrouded in ink. The last piece of useful information was that Adams was assigned to work with several former Nazi scientists, as part of OPERATION PAPERCLIP sometime in mid-'47. Those scientists seemed to have specialized in the new superweapons known as 'shipgirls' and the enigmatic 'wisdom cubes'. Then their sudden disappearance during the summer of '48.
Not only did the man single-handedly run off with valuable, as well as sensitive information, but with millions - if not hundreds of millions - of dollars worth of equipment as well. This incident raised hell in the entire NATO sphere, and the Soviet Union now smell blood in the water. He didn't know how they found out, but not long after, they mobilized their, and client Socialist Republic forces along the East Prussian-Polish border.
The two superpowers dared each other to blink.
Levesque took another long drag of his smoke and bellowed the plume from his flared nostrils. Doing his best to alleviate the growing throb within his skull. He felt like he was chasing a ghost. With the way things were going, he might as well be. It all left an uncomfortable pit in his stomach. Levesque once again glanced at the picture that was attached to the folder. It depicted a young man in American naval dress attire. Despite his younger appearance, the young man's eyes looked far older than they should've. It astounded him that someone so young could obtain the rank of Commander in such a short space of time. Ceremonial perhaps? Were the Americans that short on officers? Or maybe there was something else going on? The captain wondered if Adams had a specialized trade or skill that deemed it necessary to give him the rank. With all the black ink, it only left the imagination to run wild. Was he a special operative of some sort? And for who? The Office of Secret Services – now the Central Intelligence Agency? The Department of Defense perhaps? Office of Naval Intelligence? A secret mission from the U.S. President himself? Was it a cover-up? Who was covering up who's ass here? It all gave him a grinding migraine. Luckily the nicotine helped.
His orders were simple, however: Apprehend the wayward Commander, along with any and all scientists who fled with him. Return all ships and their shipgirl pilots, before they fall into enemy hands whether they are communists or Siren. Even though he doubted it would be the latter at this point in time. It didn't help Adams' already had a one-year head start. Despite the damn near herculean task he'd been assigned, Samuel couldn't help but give the man some begrudging respect. The sheer preparation and logistical mastery to make almost a dozen warships of varying sizes, simply vanish without a trace was something to commend. This could very well go down as one of the biggest mysteries in the history of man. Along the lines of Hitler's hidden gold, Bigfoot, the lost Ark of the Covenant, the Loch Ness Monster, and aliens.
Albeit, the Sirens' proved the last one to be very true.
The thought made him involuntary shudder, nearly making him swallow his burning smoke. For a split second, images of monstrosities made of flesh and metal invaded his mind's eye. The warm Pacific sun was replaced by the uncaring cold of the North Atlantic for all but the briefest of moments. He could still hear their ungodly screeches, and wails of the damned. But the Sirens were gone. At least he prayed to God Almighty that they were. He hadn't heard or seen any sighting of them since the war ended. Were they defeated, or were they hiding? Biding their time for another resurgence? Were the Sirens involved in the incident in Roswell? He had to slam the breaks on those thoughts. Now was not the time to fall down that rabbit hole of anxiety and speculation.
The man took a long drag and slowly exhaled to calm his nerves. Reminding himself that he was still very much alive, and not down in Davy Jones's locker. He flicked the finished cigarette into the open ocean and retreated into the bowels of the Newcastle. Preparing himself for his next assignment.
"Looks like he's about to arrive: everyone make sure you're all presentable." A heavy German-accented voice announced to his small party. He watched as the British warship skillfully maneuvered into the vast and crowded port. The man did a once-over on his uniform for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour. His navy-blue uniform starched and pressed perfectly, while the gold buttons were polished to a shine. Before he could look over anything else, however, he felt a gloved hand trace along his left arm.
"Now now, my little worry-wart," a sensual German-accented woman proclaimed, "you need to relax~ He's just your new boss. It's not like you're meeting the Führer or anyone majorly important… well at least not anymore." She said with an unapologetic smile as she looked him over, "you missed a spot." She stated as she sauntered over in front of him, and straightened out his slightly off-centre Iron Cross with Oakleaves that was wrapped snugly around his neck. "There! Now you're the picture of perfection~" She finished with a wink and quickly tapped on his chest, before moving to his side once again.
"Danke, Eugen." He stated as he returned to parade rest.
The woman in question flashed him a smile. Before she could say anything else, however, another man spoke up. "Miss Eugen, the man's perfectly able to handle himself. I doubt he needs to be mothered by you." He spoke with a gruff southern drawl. His own USMC summer dress uniform was pressed and cleaned. Military ribbons adorned his chest, with his visored cap placed neatly on his shaven salt n' pepper-haired head. "Besides that, shouldn't she be here to greet the new CO? Having one of her Lieutenants is adequate n' all, but this is something a little more… important? The last thing you krauts need is to leave a bad impression. At least an even worse impression than you already have. Doesn't really look good now does it?" His experienced brown eyes darted towards the warship-made flesh, while she merely shrugged.
"As much as I agree with you der Amerikaner, she is unfortunately preoccupied. Having to talk with Fräu Washington, neither seemed too pleased. Discussing something about unruly girls who happened to participate in a rather brash brawl at the pub last night. It's a shame really." She tutted. Indeed, it was a shame; it was her favourite pub. "From what I managed to hear, we Ironblood gave quite a scraping to both Unionists girls and your marines. I'm sure you heard all about it right, Major?" The man shot her a scowl, while she replied with a smirk. "I mean from what I was told the boys were getting a little too touchy for their own good. While the ladies may have felt an obligation to defend their human comrades. I hope they didn't get tossed around too hard. It would be oh so tragic if Vestal and Dr. Mitchel had to have more on their plate than they already do." She inspected her gloved hand as if she was looking at her nails. "Besides, isn't it rather hypocritical that you accuse us Ironbloods' of not sending our leader when you Union dogs don't lead by example~?"
The major's face contorted to an ugly scowl before he could retort, however, another spoke up. "Well, then maybe your leader should re-evaluate how she operates. Since it's obvious she has problems controlling her own dogs. Then our leaders would be able to meet our new Commander." The woman in question was also like Prinz Eugen – a warship made flesh. Her skin was alabaster, with long flowing hair, the colour of fresh snow. Her mouth was concealed by a high-collar top, though her crimson-coloured eyes narrowed as she spoke to the German heavy cruiser. The battleship was a quiet woman by nature, but that didn't stop her from saying something, she felt needed to be said. "You'd think that she would do her best to make sure her subordinates were on their best behaviour. Given their current circumstance."
"Ah yes," Eugen said with feigned interest, "how does it feel Fräulein Colorado? Being one of the mighty Big Seven, reduced to a glorified prison guard~?" The German warship grinned to herself. Relishing as she caught those red eyes narrow ever so slightly from the normally stoic women. The audible cracks of knuckles from Colorado's clenched fists only made it all the better. "I can hardly blame you for choosing this fate fräulein. With such prestigious options as either a museum ship. Forever anchored and left to rust. Or maybe sent to a graveyard among your outdated battleship kin to be mothballed." She smirked wickedly, as she watched Colorado's brows narrow, "or simply sent to the drydocks to be scrapped…"
Colorado's eyes widened and everyone heard the sharp intake through her concealed nostrils. Before there could be any physical or verbal retaliation, however, another woman spoke up. "That is enough! All of you. This is not the time nor the place. You are all representing your people to our new Shikikan. The least you can do is refrain from this foolishness." A short-cut white-haired woman stated. Her sapphire eyes bore into the offending parties. If it wasn't her powerful aura or her regal presence that caught people's attention, it was her fox-like traits. Despite the fact that her face was marred with scars, and her body heavily bandaged, she possessed a natural beauty that put mortal women to shame. "Prinz Eugen-san now is not the time to antagonize our… compatriots…" She said with hesitation as she looked at the Americans next to her. "We are no longer enemies. At least that's what I've been told to believe. The least we can do is be civil. Put our best foot forward, as you westerners say." As much as she hated saying it, cooperation was the name of the game. She yearned for the chance to turn the entire base into a pile of ash. For the humiliation, for the surrender, and for this captivity. Not to mention the absolute mess that had occurred with their previous base commander. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she was smart enough to know that she would become molten slag before launching her first fighter. She could only pray to the gods that their new Shikikan was able to remedy their situation. The other options that she had heard proposed were… less than pleasant.
"Well, I think we can all do that Fräulein Kaga," Eugen stated admittedly, "I just hope that you don't scare him off~," The German heavy cruiser asked as she felt the kitsune's eye bore into her. Only to roll her eyes when she felt her German male counterpart glare at her as well. It was a shame really. They were all so uptight. Could never take a little teasing. A little ribbing. But she surmised it was for the best. It would look bad if the first thing the new commander saw was one of the world's deadliest catfights.
She would've won of course.
"You done with your bitchin'?" One final voice of the entourage shouted, "It's bad enough seein' the boys' squabble over petty shite but for god's sake you all whine like a damn married couple. Well… the jerry's practically is anyway." The Northern Irishman's emerald-green eyes squared off at them all. Dressed in his own parade khakis, with the signature dark green beret of the Royal Marines. He was an experienced man, leading the few remaining non-American human personnel on base. His frown was hidden behind thick auburn mutton chops. His facial hair was so well taken care of, that Lord Kitchener would've shed tears of pride. He turned his attention directly toward Lieutenant-Commander Scheer, "I'm still waitin' on that weddin' invitation by the way." The only reaction he received from Scheer was a deadpanned expression. The Royal Marine shook his head, "aight. I get it. The wounds are still fresh, and nothing has been done to fix them. But right now is - of all times - not the fuckin' time, to start shite. We're all soldiers, so let's damn well act like it. I hope we can all agree we all want the past behind us, aye?" The Royal Marine caught several of them nodding in agreement. Some were more subtle than others. He took a long sigh and pinched his nose. "Anyway, did anyone read his file?" He asked, hoping to change to a lighter topic, "I never managed to get a read. Been too busy having to deal with me boys and their broken toys."
It all went by so fast. Everything from the missing ships, to the damage control. Not to mention the broiling tension between the girls and the men. The infighting, the rivalries, the bad blood. Fights galore. When he was told they were finally getting a new commander, he nearly kissed the man who informed him out of sheer relief. Yet he couldn't help but feel a gnawing pit in his stomach. Was their new commander going to fix anything or ignore the problems entirely? Worse yet, would he simply repeat what happened before, and get everyone on base court-martialled or executed? He prayed it was the former-most option. He didn't know who sucked who off, in order for the higher-ups to give them a second chance. But whoever they were, they were doing the Lord's work.
"Luckily I did, Lt. Mclaughlin." Major Holland explained, more than happy to get onto a topic they could all agree on. "Member of the Royal Canadian Navy. Joined as a Midshipman in '35. Was in the war as early as '39, and served on mainly destroyer-type vessels. According to the files, he probably has the highest kill count in the Canuck's navy under his belt." The aging Marine said with a ghost of a smile. Which was comforting. The very least NATO could do was send them someone who wasn't a complete greenhorn, paper-pushing officer.
"Destroyers? Care to clarify, Major?" Kaga asked as she arched one of her delicate brows. It was bad enough that the previous Shikikan spent most of his time with the more… busty kansen on base. No matter how discrete they tried to be, she could always smell his scent on them, or theirs on him. At least they were of the more mature variant, with a few exceptions. The last thing they all needed – the last thing she needed – was a lecherous pig who'd harm the younger ones. If that were the case, she'd be more than happy to clean up the gene pool by eviscerating one more weak-minded and willed man. Consequences be damned. It was all very fatiguing. Akagi had been spirited away, while Amagi, and Shinano were under house arrest in the homeland. Lady Nagato was a hostage in the Union. The great Sakura Empire was now a mere puppet state to the damned Eagle Union. It still made her heart roil knowing that those damned westerners set foot on both the Kyushu and Shikoku islands. Now it was up to her to uphold the honour of the Sakura Empire's navy. That meant that she needed to lead and protect those under her charge. However, now more than ever, she yearned for some sort of guidance. Though she'd never admitted it to any of the others.
"He served on manned vessels throughout the war, Miss Kaga." The major clarified, which allowed her some semblance of ease. "On top of that he had led a destroyer squadron, so he at least had some practical coordination and leadership experience. Though I'll admit, it's one hell of a jump from a couple of ships to a fleet this size." The others seemed to agree with his remarks, but they all kept their opinions to themselves as the Newcastle moored its way in. The German man called everyone to attention, once the gangway was lowered. A pair of officer shoes clacked their way down, and onto the concrete port.
Captain Levesque took a moment to take in the new environment, and enjoy the sights. The base smelled like oil, sea salt, shell propellant and polished leather. They were comforting smells. Samuel was more than surprised about the motley ensemble of personnel that were there to greet him. He stepped in front of the leading man who he could clearly tell was from the Kriegsmarine, or in this case, the newly reformed Kaiserliche Marine.
Everything from his coat to his cap was similar to what Levesque was wearing. Even having several metals pinned on the lower half of his coat. He looked a little older than the captain; late 30s to early 40s, with sharp light blue eyes. Well-cut golden-blonde hair framed the sides of his face, while a notable scar that resembled a Glasgow smile ran along the left side of his face. The German naval officer stepped forward and saluted the captain on behalf of the party. The captain returned the salute and gave the man a polite smile.
"Kapitän Zur See Levesque, it is a pleasure to have you with us today." The German greeted, "I would like to welcome you to Azur Lane: Pacific Division. I am Korvettenkapitän Bernhard Scheer, your XO on base." The two men retired their salutes, but the German was surprised when the captain extended his hand out. After a few moments of contemplative hesitation, he took the offered hand in a firm grip.
The captain smiled at his German counterpart and decided to have a little fun. "Thank you very much, Lieutenant-Commander," he answered back in fluent German. Causing Scheer, Prinz Eugen, and the rest of the party to look at Levesque with expressions of shock and bewilderment. "I look forward to working with you."
"Y-you speak German?" The man stated, still in shock. It was… refreshing to hear another man speak his mother tongue. There was a sense of pride, but there was a sense of betrayal as well. Seeing one of his own wearing the crest and crown of one of the Royal Navy's Commonwealths, instead of the German Eagle.
"On my mother's side," Levesque smirked, returning to English, "but that is a story for another time, I believe introductions are in order, eh?" Bernhard quickly snapped himself out of his daze, stepped out of formation, and joined Samuel in the impromptu inspection. Halting immediately at the next person in line.
She stood tall with armoured red heels, with black and white stockings. Her long legs are free for the world to see, letting those lucky enough to catch glimpses of her black panties. She only wore a gray tunic with red sleeves. The sides of her tunic were cut, allowing a generous amount of side boob with plates of armour under the sides of her breasts. A large iron cross adorned her collar finishing off her attire. She was a woman of fair complexion. Long steel-silver hair flowed down to her back, accompanied by armoured twin tails, and a single red streak of hair followed the contours of her face. Her eyes were a fiery amber; reminding him of fresh maple sap that glistened in the sunlight back home. She was a beautiful one that was for sure. He assumed she was one of those 'shipgirls', just like Newcastle. If her non-regulation uniform, as well as her abnormal hair and eye colouration, were of any indication. Levesque quickly turned his attention to Scheer who asked him a question. The two men quickly engaged in some small talk, as if they were old friends catching up. The woman took the opportunity to get a closer look at her new commander.
He was in his prime, she assumed. Early-to-mid 30s, clean-shaven, with a set of storm-grey eyes. He had a handsome face, though the dark rings under his eyes spoke of many sleepless nights. She – along with her kin – could relate to that. Despite his weatherworn features, there was warmth behind his eyes and smiles. The atmosphere between him and Scheer was polite but strangely familiar. This surprised Eugen. She assumed there would've been some lingering animosity since the captain fought against her kin during the war. Maybe the man saw a form of kinship with herself and Berny? Perhaps that was the case, but it was too early to determine such things. But it was information worth sharing with her Ironblood kin. Maybe their voices would finally reach some listening ears.
Her eyes moved up and spotted the golden wreath that ran along with the visor, as well as the crest on his cap. It was wrapped in golden maple leaves instead of the traditional laurel. Her eyes looked down towards his sleeves and noticed three golden lace bars, along with the top one knotted. Her knowledge of the Royal Navy ranking structure was limited, but she trusted that Berny knew what he was talking about when it came to his rank. Eugen hoped that this der Kanadier would be more interesting, than the stick-in-the-muds she'd had to deal with prior. It was getting so boring on base after all. He wasn't bad in the eyes either. Maybe she'd share that little tidbit of information with certain people after they were done. A smirk slowly creased her lips. Time to test the waters.
"Herr Kapitän, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Prinz Eugen of the Admiral Hipper-class heavy cruisers~" She cooed as she purposely pushed out her bountiful bosom, "I survived the last war, and I will survive the next, and whatever you or the world can throw at me." She winked at him, while Levesque raised an eyebrow. He knew that ship. He also knew what operations she was involved in. To have one of the more infamous German warships under his command was… a new experience to be sure. But they were no longer enemies. It was an interesting situation; when former enemies became allies and vice versa. The Relief of Peking came to mind; not even two decades before The Great War. He surmised this was just par for the course of his time. While he wasn't an expert on shipgirls, it was apparent she was the type to be many a young man's late-night fantasies.
His eyes remained on hers. She was surprised and intrigued. He wasn't going to even sneak a peek? Fascinating. The man extended his hand toward her, "Well I have to say, I like your attitude, eh. Your belief in your abilities, I'll be putting those to good use. See if you can put some bite into that bark." He said with a light-hearted chuckle, "the last thing I want is to lose such a valuable warship as well as her pilot, eh." It didn't help that every shipgirls he'd met so far had been such a beautiful creature. They didn't deserve to suffer a sailor's fate in his eyes. "We're allies now after all. If the war didn't put you down, then I hope to see you sailing the seas for years to come. You'll be in my care from now on."
Prinz Eugen's smirk only widened as she took his hand into her gloved one. It was indeed firm, but Levesque was surprised that hers was also soft and gentle. He stepped aside and continued down the line. Bernhard looked at her and merely rolled his eyes as he followed the captain. Eugen for her part merely winked but stayed at parade attention.
Next was the man in his USMC summer dress. Pressed khaki jacket, with matching pants. His visored cap was squarely on his head. The Marine looked like he was old enough to have fought in both world wars; the early 50s at the very least. His skin looked as tough as leather, and his eyes were sharp with decades of experience. The two men stared eye-to-eye, as Levesque spotted the gold oak leaf pinned to the man's collar. "And who might you be Major?" The captain asked, as his eyes scanned the man's patches on his upper sleeves. A blue diamond with a big red '1'.
"Maj. James Holland, 1st Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, sir." The American stated, with a swell in his chest.
"1st Marines, eh?" Levesque said, "well I have to say it's an honour to be serving alongside some of the hardest, toughest soldiers this side of the Pacific. You leathernecks have quite the reputation." The Canadian smiled as he extended his hand, which the older marine gladly took firmly. The major appreciated a man who was willing to shake hands with the troops. It helped build morale. But he was still apprehensive. Sure, he may not be an official member of the bigger players, but he was still a part of the British Commonwealth. Which meant he may be working for their interests instead of everyone's. He had no right to pass judgment however, it was an American that went AWOL after all. Even though he would've preferred to have another American in control in their Pacific backyard. Good ol' Uncle Sam shit the bed, in that regard. As far as he was aware, there may have been some backroom negotiations. But that kind of thinking was above his pay grade. The captain even arrived on a British warship, and it was piloted by one of those shipgirls as well. The major caught a glimpse of the young maid as she descended down the gangway with what he assumed were the captain's personal effects. He wondered if the Commonwealth was making a subtle powerplay.
He doubted it.
After the whole debacle, the British left only a single cruiser, and token force to save face. James couldn't help but chuckle morbidly to himself. He simply hoped that the man before him knew what he was doing. Hoping against hope that NATO wasn't as incompetent as he imagined. "I thank you for the compliment, sir," Major Holland stated, "I've heard my fair share of stories from your people as well. You're a hardy bunch that's for sure - tough sons-of-bitches. Ruthless too when push comes to shove. Hearin' about y'all back in France. You Canucks made the Huns shit their pants back in the day. Could've used a few of you back in Belleau."
Samuel smiled, "thank you for your kind words, Major. We may not be the most powerful nation on the planet, but we sure as hell make up for it with our fighting spirit. Though, I think our accomplishments speak for themselves, eh."
"Without a doubt; well said, sir," Major Holland agreed.
The captain nodded as he stepped along the line. Stopping at another shipgirl. His eyes widened as they travelled her figure. Long creamy legs covered in black thigh-high, high-heeled, laced leather boots. With a long open black skirt that flowed down her legs. A black and white top, with belts wrapped around her waist, with strategic openings that showed off her womanly hips. The bottom half of her face was concealed by a high collar, with a small golden anchor. The sides of her breasts were exposed, similar to Eugen's top, but her shoulders were also bare, and her arms were covered in wide-cuffed sleeves that acted similar to a jacket. She was a beautiful woman, to say the least. Her skin was alabaster, with stark, sharp red eyes. Her hair was long and snow-white, but he swore there was a silver tint to it. To him, she looked like what a grim reaper would be; hauntingly beautiful. One last pleasant sight before the soul was taken to heaven. "And who might you be?" He asked pleasantly as he looked her in the eye.
The woman in question spoke quietly, but confidently, "I am the first of the Colorado-class battleships. One of the mighty Big Seven. I am Colorado herself." She watched him with steady eyes and allowed herself a hidden smile from his genuine awe. It felt nice to see something more than an apathetic glance, or passive-aggressive sneer. To feel like she was more than just a relic of a bygone era. Her eyes quickly glanced toward her replacement. The aircraft carrier merely ignored her.
"The Big Seven, eh?" Samuel said as he let out a light chuckle, "never in my days in the navy would I think I'd get the opportunity to see one of the greatest battleships ever put to sea." He was speaking the truth on that matter. He loved hearing the stories his dad would talk about. The way he talked about his time serving on the Repulse, and the Battle of Jutland, always made a young Samuel's imagination run wild. He hoped he would have served on the battleships during the war. To hunt Bismarck on King George V or Rodney. Or square off against the Italians in the Mediterranean on the Warspite. Unfortunately, he was needed elsewhere. As much as he would've loved to serve on the mightiest of warships, His Majesty's Merchant Marine needed protection. Samuel couldn't complain, however; Haida was a good ship. "I look forward to seeing you in action, Colorado. You and your sisters."
"I'm sorry Commander," she said, her voice low, "It's just me here… I lost West Virginia back in Pearl."
Locke's smile faltered as her words reached his ears, "my condolences."
"It's alright Commander, we lose people in war. It's unavoidable. But Maryland could still be around, right?" Her face may have been concealed, but her eyes asked for something she dared not speak of. Hope.
He couldn't help but sigh, this was going to be a strange operation. This was something that he never expected he would have to do, but he'd be damned if he didn't do his utmost to follow through. "Until we find a body, she's out there somewhere, Colorado." He stated firmly, "may St. Elmo guide us, and may God bless our voyages, to bring them home safely. Least their souls be laid to rest." Though his mood was sombre, he still gave her a reassuring pat on her bare shoulder. It was hard to lose family, he was no exception. It was hard knowing that you'd never see a loved one again, but there was at least something finite when it came to the dead.
The unknown, however, was its own kind of hell. Anxiety-inducing, never knowing, assuming the worst praying for the best. Were they alive or dead, lost, hungry, or injured? Are they safe? Why haven't they come home? It was those thoughts that could keep anyone at night. His heart went out to Colorado. He hoped he could at least give her some closure. He imagined she wasn't the only one on base either.
Samuel followed down the line and stepped in front of another woman. But she probably stole the show from the other girls. She was the most exotic. The snow-white fox wore a blue and white kimono, with elegant embroidery along her sleeves. A simple blue skirt, with pure white knee socks, helped emphasize her elegant slender legs. What armour she wore; he could only describe it as an armoured waist belt. It bore the imperial chrysanthemum, as well as helped push up her bountiful bosom. Though her chest was covered in burn scars and bandaging. She looked like she went through hell and came back fighting. If it wasn't her body that told the story, it was her piercing blue eyes that did. Grey met blue, and it seemed like the two were locked in the stare. While Samuel looked into the blue inferno of the kitsune, Kaga bore into the grey tempest of the man. Each searching for something, both seeing something, but saying nothing. For what only appeared to be a few moments, Kaga bowed her head. "It is an honour to meet you for the first time, Shikikan. I am IJN Kaga of the 1st Carrier Division. I was one of the most feared warships in the Pacific, but fate as cruel as it is, has given me another chance. It would appear that winds have once again played their hand. Let us see whether you're more worthy than the traitorous, unworthy cur." She stated, with a cool grace, as her eye never left the captain.
Kaga? Yes, he knew that name. The Battle of Midway made headlines all over the globe. Yet here she was in the flesh, instead of down in the cold abyss. If she was around, was her half-sister Akagi as well? How did she survive? Was the ship below the waves, but the woman survived? Or did it have to do with wisdom cubes? And if she survived… How many other ships or at least the shipgirls survived? How many shipgirls who're supposed to be dead, aren't? He quickly banished those thoughts from his head. Samuel nodded as he extended his hand, Kaga was hesitant, but only for a moment. She took his hand into hers with a strong grip. "It's an honour to meet you, Kaga, your reputation, and combat prowess are nothing but legendary. I look forward to seeing the might of the Kedo Bukai…"
"Kido Butai." Kaga immediately corrected him. Her ears twitched slightly, as she emphasized the pronunciation. Hearing her beautiful language being butchered, was like nails on a chalkboard. But she could at least appreciate the honest attempt.
Samuel felt his cheeks heat up, and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry about that. I'm fluent in a few languages, but obviously not Japanese. I apologize. Regardless, I look forward to witnessing Kido Butai as an ally rather than an adversary."
Kaga nodded in acceptance and allowed a ghost of a smile. Humility could be a strength or a weakness. It was only a matter of how it was used. Be too humble, and that opens for others to step on you. Never accepting one's faults, on the other hand, leads to arrogance. Which could very well lead to one's downfall. Not even she was immune to such harsh lessons. Though his last statement made Kaga's expression darken. "Unfortunately, you would only have half of such a feat. My sister - like Colorado-san - is not with us at the moment. I assume you're aware of our rather precarious situation, Shikikan?" She said stoically. He merely nodded in response.
"It's an unfortunate situation we're all in," the captain stated, "but that's why I'm here." He let go of the kitsune's hand and finally stepped toward the last member of the party. While lieutenant-commander Sheer nodded toward the Japanese carrier, who remained aloof toward his actions.
Last but certainly not least, Samuel stopped in front of the Royal Marine. The iconic forest-green beret, as well as the navy-blue and crimson shoulder patches. His globe and wreath cap brass polished to a shine. He looked about to be in his late 20s. Samuel noticed the two pips on the man's shoulders and smiled warmly. "It's a pleasure to see another fighting man of the Commonwealth, Lieutenant." He extended his hand, and the Royal Marine took it with gusto.
"Aye, sir," the man stated with a proud crinkle of his mustache, "Lt. Avery Mclaughlin. No. 41 Commandos, Royal Marines. I have to say, it's a breath of fresh air to see someone wearin' a crown, sir." He leaned in conspiratorially, his smirk never leaving his face, "a few too many eagles' 'round here if ya know what I mean, sir."
Levesque gave a light-hearted chuckle, "well, to be frank, I wasn't expecting any Commonwealth forces here, since I'm in the Americans' Pacific backyard. Glad to see some more familiar faces. Hopefully, you've been teaching those insane Yankee Marines some proper manners and etiquette. Or do they - if the rumours are true - still try to kill each other over the last bottle of coke?"
"You wouldn't believe it, sir! It's far worse than that." The lieutenant exclaimed, doing his best to keep a straight face, while everyone else in the party listened. Their expressions ranged in several degrees of amusement, "oh no sir, it's much worse. Those damn loony bin escapees are killin' each other over glue!" The Royal Marine declared as Samuel snorted, "they say it tastes better than their rations, but I wouldn't know. Between you and me, I don't got the stomach for Elmer's, sir." The captain let out a hearty good-natured laugh. Prinz Eugen openly joined in, while Scheer and Holland shared crinkled smirks and shook their heads. Colorado merely rolled her eyes, while Kaga allowed an amused chuckle at the expense of the Marines. Newcastle, who had recently joined them, hid her giggle behind her hand. Once the captain settled himself, he gave the Northern Irishman a firm pat on his shoulder.
After a few moments, Levesque calmed himself down as he let a few more chuckles escape. "It's been a while since I laughed like that, eh. Good for the mind, heart and soul." He exclaimed as he gave Avery a warm smile, "It's good to know there's still some room for humour," he turned toward everyone else. His smile lessened, but remained present, "despite the unfortunate circumstance we're all in ladies and gentlemen." Everyone nodded in agreement while Scheer coughed into his hand.
"With all due respect, I believe it is time to get you settled in, sir." The German officer stated. Levesque agreed with that statement and addressed everyone to be dismissed. They all fell out of formation but congregated around the new man, as he followed his German counterpart. Samuel whistled as he was escorted toward a sleek black Mercedes-Benz W31.
Samuel couldn't take his eyes off the luxurious 6-wheeled off-road vehicle. Even while Bernhard opened up the passenger door for his superior officer, Samuel simply took off his cap as he took his seat. Revealing a full head of side-parted dirty-blonde hair. "How the hell did you manage to get this beauty with you, LtCmdr. Scheer?" The captain asked as he sat in his black leather seat. He'd only seen these hefty cars from photos and movie reels. It was the perfect combination of civilian luxury and military application. Despite their faults, the Germans knew how to make some kickass cars. Scheer smiled proudly as he explained it was given to him as his staff car during the war. It was his pride and joy; having spent as many hours tinkering and driving it, as he did work in the office. When he was being sent overseas via OPERATION PAPERCLIP, he raised hell to make sure wherever he went, so did his car. Levesque didn't know what kind of strings the man had to pull, but by God, he did a good job.
The captain waited for everyone to join in the vehicle, albeit it was a little more cramped in the back than usual. The captain refused to make anyone walk, so poor Newcastle had no choice but to sit on someone's lap. While the man was a complete gentleman, the sight of Mclaughlin's burning red cheeks, from the view of the rear-view mirror, was both amusing and cute.
Once everyone was settled to the best of their abilities, Scheer entered the driver's seat. The German grinned wickedly as he gunned the engine and drove the entourage along the port. The captain couldn't help but stare in awe at the sheer size and vastness of the base. The island itself could only be described as a tropical paradise turned fortress. The high hills and cliffs were littered with AA pits, bunkers, and pillboxes. Trench lines managed to flow alongside the landscape, rather than against it. Large swaths of tropical trees stood tall, and the white sandy beaches seemed less perturbed. The juxtaposition between man and nature seemed to conflict and mix at the same time. It was a surreal sight.
As they drove, Levesque pulled out his pack of smokes and offered them to the group. He received various "thank you's" as the men, plus Eugen partook. Levesque didn't feel the need to have one at the moment. But that didn't stop the judgemental gazes, from both Colorado and Newcastle he felt burning into the back of his skull. Kaga politely declined when offered. Mclaughlin was about to light his own, but the all-too-pleasant smile Newcastle gave him, made the Commonwealth soldier reconsider. The captain was sympathetic towards the North Irishman but said nothing as his eyes slowly wandered towards the sea, where his fleet was moored.
Everything from destroyers, to aircraft carriers, lay anchored along the island docks. All of varying designs and nationalities. Several dry docks lay in use where hulls waited to be furnished or retrofitted. But what he found strange was their positioning. The vast majority of the larger vessels lay moored at the wings and were of American make. In fact, the American ships sandwiched the German and Japanese vessels. Their turrets turned towards them, and in a way, where maximum damage could be distributed, while the friendly fire was at a minimum risk. Levesque couldn't help but shake his head sadly, "so this is the state of things…" he murmured quietly. As they continued, they drove past several marines and shipgirls performing various duties. They gave Levesque salutes; he returned the gestures as they moved past. One jeep casually drove past them, it would've been a mundane sight if it wasn't for a simple fact. One Marine sat in the passenger seat, while a white-haired child was driving! Samuel nearly bolted out of his seat, but Scheer gripped his arm.
"Don't worry about it, sir," Bernhard stated nonchalantly, "the Bulin's know what they're doing." Levesque wanted to protest; wanted to ask if his XO was perhaps huffing diesel on the side. He looked behind him for any support but found none. Kaga leaned over and explained that the Bulin was like the Kansen, but made from tools. They were skilled engineers and to be trusted. Flabbergasted, Levesque could only take their word at face value and sat back down. Hoping that looking over his fleet would be a good distraction from this insane revelation.
All in all, he had quite the repertoire. There were several he did recognize: The heavy hitters he spotted were the Colorado and Washington, as well as a few New Orleans-class, or two. There was a handful of Cleveland, and Brooklyn-class vessels too. Then there was the healthy slew of Fletchers, as well as Sumner-class destroyers as well. At least he knew he could very well shoot anything out of the sky. Though there was something that he found… odd. This was America's Pacific backyard, where were the American carriers?
He noticed the Kaga and a couple of other carriers that were of Japanese make. Hell, he thought he saw a German carrier of all things, but no American carriers. Were they all on other bases? Were the Americans that confident that they could deal with any rouge elements? He had no choice but to assume so. That wasn't the only curious thing either. There was only a single Town-class nestled in port. Their guns also aimed toward the centre of the mass of ships. All were of German and Japanese make. A handful of destroyers, and cruisers he didn't recognize, but he did recognize the Scharnhorst, as well as the infamous Prinz Eugen. He nearly jumped out of his seat in sheer shock. His eyes widened at what he felt like a cruel joke. The centrepiece for what could only be described as a self-destructive crown.
Bismarck's long shadow was cast down by her massive hull. Even next to mighty carriers, her very presence demanded attention. Levesque's brows knitted together as a storm of emotions raged behind in his eyes. Of all ships… of all people… why did it have to be her!? No. Was she even here? Maybe it was just the vessel? He prayed to the Lord Almighty this was nothing more than a cruel joke. As fast as the infamous battleship came into view, it quickly vanished past them. He slowly let go of the car door that he suddenly realized he had a death grip on. He had a sudden craving for nicotine but forced himself not to. Kaga caught the captain's subtle reactions as they passed the Bismarck. A small frown creased her face as she caught a whiff of his raised adrenaline. She could commend him for his self-control at least. Did he and Bismarck-san have a history? Was it going to jeopardize the operations and fragile integrity of the base? She would have to look into it and observe it carefully. Take action if need be.
They continued their drive along the port, Levesque sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "So can someone tell me the numbers I'm dealing with here?"
"Well, you're working with three companies of the USMC, and one company of the royals for combat strength." Major Holland stated, "as well as several detachments of engineers, mechanics, and administrative staff to keep the base functioning on the day-to-day. In all honesty, we have about a battalion's worth of men - give or take. And as you can see, we have enough warships to conquer a small country, sir."
"That's fine and dandy, thank you, Major." Levesque said, "but now the important question, how much are we keeping your little… incident hush-hush?" Everyone in the car seemed to have grown uncomfortably quiet.
"We were ordered to keep information at a minimum, sir." The major said, "as far as we're aware the censors are earning their pay. The CIA brought any scientists who stayed, back to the mainland. We haven't heard anything from them since. The only reason why LtCmdr. Scheer is still with us because he managed to convince them that he was the only one who could wrangle the German ships. Since he's worked with the shipgirls since the beginning." Said German, shooting the man with the stink eye from the rear-view mirror.
Levesque turned toward Scheer with a raised brow. "Really now, eh? I didn't miss any SS badges on you, did I?"
"I worked with them, not for them." He stated evenly, and a little too quickly for Levesque's tastes.
"Well, it doesn't matter now does it?" Levesque said pointedly, which made his German counterpart look at him surprised. "At the end of the day, I don't care what you did in the past. Right now, we are here to work together against a common foe and achieve common goals. Not only that, but I need your expertise. I need all of your cooperation for this." Samuel sighed, "we can't afford to be at each other's throats. We all have bigger things to worry about, eh." The rest of the vehicle remained silent, each digesting what was said.
As they drove along the base, Levesque was satisfied that there was a large parade square, with several multi-story barracks that housed the personnel. Along with a motor pool, mess hall and other commodities that a military base needed to function. There was also a small airfield on the far end of the base. It was nothing too grand, but it was enough for something as large as a handful of twin-engine craft, or a squadron or two of fighters. What surprised him, however, was the civilian-like town that was a stone toss away from the base proper. They entered a boulevard which was flanked by several shops and buildings of varying functions. He could spot some open markets and small single-story houses. Along with a decently sized cinema theatre, and what looked like a small school and recreational centre. They stood in front of a portion of the untouched beach where a pear lay. There he could spot some of the shipgirls playing in the Pacific waters. To top it off; there was a large fountain with a golden anchor at the centre of a roundabout.
Marines and shipgirls alike paid their respects as they drove along. On the return toward the base, Sheer took a right, bringing them up a hill. Levesque spotted a few more pillboxes along with AA dugouts, as well as what looked like a large radar station at the very top. Scheer turned off the main path and stopped at what Levesque could only describe as a large colonial house. It was a large two-story building, with red-tiled roofing, and large arching windows. A wrap-around porch encompassed both floors of the building, held by thick marble supports. It reminded him of home in a strange way.
Scheer parked the vehicle and Levesque thanked him. He looked up to the flag pole and watched the blue and white flag of NATO fly casually in the wind. It was strange to him. He was so used to seeing the union jack or the ensign of his own dominion fly high and proud. It felt wrong not seeing it, his people had spilt enough of their blood to fly their colours. Unfortunately, this was bigger than that. The Soviets were at the gates, and - unlike the Nazis - they could reach the Atlantic and Pacific. He could feel it in the air, he could taste it in the sea salt. He looked toward his escort and shook his hand, "thank you very much for bringing me here. I'm sure I'll be given a far more in-depth briefing tomorrow. I look forward to working with you all ladies and gentlemen." He said and made a point to look at all of them.
"Yes sir," Scheer nodded as he took the man's hand, "and thank you for coming to save our asses." Levesque let out a light chuckle and nodded as he stepped out of the vehicle. Eugen seized the opportunity and hopped into the vacant seat, proudly announcing 'shotgun'. Newcastle stepped out as well, thanking and apologizing to Mclaughlin. The Royal Marine insisted that there was no issue and that she had nothing to apologize for. Levesque shook his head amusingly, as he and Scheer exchanged salutes, and the group drove back down to the base. Leaving Samuel and Newcastle alone in front of the building.
The man took a moment to admire the building before he marched toward the entrance with Newcastle right behind him. Before he had a chance to knock on the heavy dark-wood door, it opened up and he was greeted by one of the most stunning women he ever laid his eyes upon.
She was a maid. Her dress was white and frilly, with a dark blue corset. Her top was open, showing off her impressive chest. While strips of armour plating curved along her womanly hips. Her arms were covered in long-sleeved white gloves, with more armoured plating that resembled gauntlets. A simple collar wrapped around her neck with a broken chain dangling off it. The maid's skin was smooth and creamy to the eye, with ethereal silver-white hair that cascaded down her back and framed her elegant face. A single braid wrapped along one side of her head, with a filly crest. While his grey eyes, met her lilac, she gave him a polite smile and curtsied. "Greetings, Master," she said with a light Northern Irish accent, "I am Belfast; the second ship of the Edinburgh subclass, of the Town-class light cruisers. I served as one of Her Majesty's Royal Maids. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I look forward to serving you." She stated as she rose, giving the man another polite smile, that he replied in kind.
"Well to be quite frank, I never expected to have a maid under my care." He said warmly with a light blush to his cheeks, "but it's a pleasure to finally meet the woman behind the ship. Seeing you in the Atlantic was always a welcomed sight."
Before Belfast respond to his statement, her eyes drifted to his companion. A small gasp escaped her lips, "Newcastle? Is that really you?" So many thoughts ran through the maid's head. One of the loudest was simply, what was she doing here? Her cubes sang when Newcastle nodded. She placed Levesque things on the ground and stepped toward Belfast. Samuel stepped aside and allowed the two shipgirls to embrace each other. Belfast knew it was unsightly for her to do such a thing in front of her new master of all people. But seeing one of her sisters after so long, she could allow herself to look unsightly if only for a moment. Newcastle for her part, smiled as she held onto her estranged sibling. They parted, but held each other's hands, "what are you doing here?" Belfast inquired a small smile creasing her lips, "I was unaware that the Royal Navy was sending any more ships."
"I am not being stationed here Belfast," Newcastle said quietly, causing Belfast's smile to falter, "I am actually been tasked to reinforce the Australians. But I was asked to escort Capt. Levesque since I was already on the way there. I will be leaving tomorrow, to continue on my original assignment." Belfast listened and nodded. It was wishful thinking that the Royal Navy would send any more ships to this god-forsaken base. Especially any of the maids. She wouldn't complain about that, however. That was unbecoming of a proper maid.
Samuel watched the two and sighed. A pang of jealousy hit his heart, but he quickly suppressed it. It wasn't fair on his or their part. He stepped around and grabbed his belongings, "I do believe I saw a pub down in the town. You two have my permission to take your leave, and should go catch up, eh." The two shipgirls began to protest but Samuel raised his hand to silence them, "From your reactions, this looks like a reunion long overdue. As Miss Newcastle said, she's leaving tomorrow, it wouldn't be fair on my part. Besides as much as I appreciate having a maid, I can still take care of myself. I can put away my own things." He left no room for arguing as he gave the girls a kind smile, "go and spend some time together. God only knows when it'll happen again. I'll be alright you two. Besides…" He turned his attention to Belfast, "I will be in your care for the foreseeable future." She looked back toward the captain and then over toward Newcastle. She wished to protest, but his arguments held water. Newcastle also seemed conflicted as well, but she eventually nodded and thanked the captain.
Belfast looked back toward Levesque and gave a light bow, "thank you for your kindness, Master." She and Newcastle both travelled down the path toward the town. Samuel watched them with a sad smile on his face. He didn't know their story, or what had happened, but he envied them nonetheless. After a few moments, he grabbed his things and disappeared into the colonial house. The first step into his new role, and a new chapter in his life.
The Dublin Lullaby was a quaint little establishment. The lights were dim, and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes wafted around in the open. The atmosphere gave a feeling of reprieve after a long day of work in the hot and damp Pacific heat. It was an Irish-style pub, which made it stand out against the majority of buildings that had a Mediterranean flair. Most surmised that the island used to belong to the Spanish before the Americans won it in the late 1890s. It was also the most popular watering hole on the island.
Regardless of nationality or ethnicity, nothing brought people together more than a cold, stiff drink to commemorate their miseries. Belfast and Newcastle sat across from each other in their own booth, as they waited for their orders. The pub itself was relatively quiet, with a couple of off-duty Marines sharing a drink or playing darts. Belfast inwardly sighed as she once again took stock of the damages that were caused the night before. Several tables and chairs were missing, while others were obviously cracked and broken. She could smell the mix of blood, alcohol and propellant on the hardwood floor. A couple of smashed windows, along with pot marks all over the walls. All of the top-shelf and some of the mid-shelf bottles were missing as well. She spent hours trying to help clean the place up. It was such a barbaric sight. This never would've happened if they were back home. The Jerry's and Yanks were so brash and uncouth, so eager to bash their heads against each other, like in those cinema westerns. A proper gentleman would've at least taken the fighting outside.
The two women thanked the waiter who brought them their drinks. Before Newcastle took her first sip and the waiter left their table, Belfast immediately downed her first pint and ordered a new one. Newcastle raised one of her delicate brows. A low whistle escaped her lips. "Have you taken up contest drinking Belfast? Or are you trying to embrace more of your heritage?" She asked with a light laugh as she casually drank from her mug. It didn't have the same flavour that she was used to, and it tasted a little on the lighter side. She wouldn't complain however, it was rather humorous and mildly concerning seeing her sister drink in such a fashion.
Belfast shook her head but felt her cheeks warm up, "no I have not taken up contest drinking. Nor would I allow myself to stoop so low. The Ironbloods do that more than enough. Despite that, with this Union, beer it's hard to get a light buzz. Especially for us." Newcastle nodded as she settled into her seat. Allowing a comfortable silence to fall upon herself and her sister. "How are things back home?" Belfast asked, "I've tried to send letters, but I don't know if any of them had made it. Or even if they're being received."
Newcastle sighed quietly; Belfast didn't deserve this kind of punishment. Unfortunately, Her Majesty's word was law, but seeing her sister's pleading eyes made it all the harder. "Things are… complicated." Newcastle admitted, "Lady George is currently helping Lady Wales recover with her physiotherapy. Her cubes are accepting the conversions, but her body is having trouble. Her arm and leg are giving her terrible spasms. There are times I see her walking with a cane."
"I'm glad to hear that Lady Wales is recovering. I hope she does get better, as well. It must be hard for her; I was afraid her cubes would be lost in the Indian Ocean forever." A small smile creased Belfast's lips as she took another drink. "What about the others?"
Newcastle smiled, "you'll be glad to know that Miss Sheffield is enjoying her new position in M.I. I can't tell you which one - classified reasons, but she's taken to it like fish to water." Both she and Belfast laughed lightly, "she's very popular with the boys, apparently, if the rumours are true, she's even teaching some about the finer points of espionage and covert ops."
"That does sound much like her, doesn't it?" Belfast mused. She liked Sheffield, they fought together and they had mutual respect for one another. She was more than a competent maid as well. A little on the more aloof, and silent side of things, but her dedication was something to be admired. But Belfast always suspected that frontline warfare was never really her true calling. If she really had been inducted into the Military Intelligence, then she wished her the best of luck. Knowing Sheffield however, she didn't need it.
"Miss Charybdis is doing exceptionally well too." Newcastle added as she sipped her drink, "she has a bit of a nervous tick like her sisters…" She fell silent as Belfast averted her eyes. "But she's turning into a wonderful Royal Maid. Her smile is quite infectious. I dare say it could rival Lady Illustrious's radiant glow."
"Oh my, such a scandalous statement," Belfast smirked with faux shock, "to think that the upper echelons of the Royal Navy could ever be outdone!? Perish the thought." The two shared another laugh, but Belfast directed her gaze straight toward Newcastle. A silent plea in her voice, "but now I must ask, how is my sister?"
Newcastle held her stare, though a small frown crossed her features. "She is… well, but her cubes are too damaged." Belfast slowly inhaled as Newcastle sighed, "until our scientists find a way to repair critically damaged cubes, she'll be wheelchair-bound for the rest of her days. She can't summon her rigging either." Belfast stayed silent for a long time. It was bad enough that she was no longer able to see her sister, but that she was eternally crippled! And she couldn't do anything about it. To think that a mighty cruiser with the firepower of several artillery batteries, couldn't do anything for her sister. She wasn't allowed to. She felt so hopeless, so powerless. Her mind continued down the spiral, only to snap out of it when she felt a soft hand on hers. "She isn't being decommissioned. I can promise you that. Her Majesty has made that perfectly clear. She's getting the best help she can get. Her ship will be piloted by the navy proper, while she might be sent to do administrative work for the Admiralty. I just hope she doesn't figure out how to trip in a wheelchair." She joked, hoping it could at least lighten the sullen mood.
"Knowing her, she probably will," Belfast admitted with a dry laugh. The two continued with their small talk, while Belfast enjoyed her pints. They laughed and exchanged stories since they last talked. For Belfast, it was a much-needed breath to the surface. Time slipped away from the two shipgirls, as the pub began to take in more patrons. Belfast noticed it was still quieter than usual, but she wouldn't complain about that. "It was wonderful seeing you again Newcastle, truly it has." Belfast admitted, "I will have a guest room prepared for you tonight. It's the least I can do for your long journey." Newcastle wanted to object, to say that she was more than fine with sleeping in her vessel or the regular barracks. Knowing Belfast, however, she wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Thank you very much, Belfast," Newcastle smiled as they rose from their seats.
The two women strolled out of the pub and began their journey back to the colonial house. They walked side by side in comfortable silence. The Pacific sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon, giving the sky a beautiful collection of oranges, and purples. When the two cruisers stood in front of the door, Belfast hesitated, "I must ask you," she turned and looked Newcastle in the eye, "what sort of man am I serving?"
Newcastle knew the underlying question her sister was asking. She understood wholeheartedly, but she gave her a kind smile. "His eyes hide the pain. Not secrets," she said, "he's a good man, and if I read the reports: he is just and was loved by his crew. He has no desire to follow in his predecessor's footsteps. No interest in military politics." She waved her hand off and gave Belfast a reassuring smile, "I believe in him, and so should you. Trust me you'll find quite a few pleasant surprises about him if given the chance." She gave her a wink when Belfast inquired what she meant. Newcastle stepped inside the estate, while Belfast paused.
She wanted to believe that her sister was right. That she wouldn't be played the fool again. She trusted her sister and her judgement. She was no Sheffield, but she was far from inept. She took a deep breath and followed Newcastle inside. She would give her new master the benefit of a doubt.
If Newcastle was right then this was the start of something greater.
A/N:
Updated: 01. DEC. 2022