Chapter IV: Cracked Foundations, and Cornerstones
Date: Aug. 18. 1949
Location: [REDACTED], Pacific Ocean
The air was thick with smoke, and the dim lights did little to uplift the otherwise heavy atmosphere. The room itself was spacious, with dark wood lining the walls, while the floor possessed a rich red carpet. In the centre was a finely carved long wooden table, that had several matching chairs. It was a simple room but it served its purpose. But it wasn't all that inhabited the area. On the far end was a medium-sized countertop. It was simple in design - sturdy. It was decorated with mementos of their past and faraway home. Someone who was ignorant of their situation could've easily viewed it as a shrine. In some cases, they wouldn't be too far from the truth on the matter.
The top was draped with the flag of their homeland, as well as simple pieces of their culture and history, while others were more personal. Some of the most notable there: are postcards with iconic city sites and geographic scenery. There was a custom-made stein mug to commemorate one girl's first naval action. A stahlhelm with a bullet hole through it, a well-kempt Kar98k and MP-40. There was also an officer's sabre, collections of badges and medals, and a slew of photographs. Among the more notable, was the image of the late Kaiser Wilhelm II, and the late WWI fighter ace Mannfred von Richtofen. Others were simple pictures of the girls with their captains and crew. Some were more professional, while others were more joyous and held more personal meaning to the girls who owned them. Above it all on the wall, however, were three pictures. One was of the late First Chancellor of Germany - the Iron Chancellor - Otto von Bismarck and the other beside it was the late Führer, Adolf Hitler. Above them was an image that was flanked by the draped flags of Imperial Germany, and the ensign of the Kaisarliche Marine. It was a controversial image. It was an image that still sparked debate worldwide and in the homeland. The newly made Kaiserin; SMS Thüringen.
She was a woman of regal grace. Her skin was soft and smooth, with her hair ashen grey with a couple of black strands at the front. Her bangs framed her youthful face, while she sported a long side ponytail. Her eyes were a serene ice-blue, that poised a look of strength and elegance, with thick feminine lashes that only accented her eternal youth. Her stylized officers' cap was black with silver accents, with the Imperial Eagle in the centre. She held it on one of her black gloves, while the other hand held the pommel of a sabre. In the picture, she wore a simple, but elegant white sundress, which failed to conceal the outline of her bountiful chest. Over her dress was a black leather waist jacket, with plush silk, and crimson inlay. She wore little jewelry, with the exception of a humble pearl necklace with her Iron Cross. Her smile was subtle, but it was there. It was strange when the three pictures were compared. Otto von Bismarck was shown to be steadfast, and noble, while Hitler looked powerful and intimidating. Thüringen on the other hand; was portrayed as elegant and maternal. The Mother of a new Germany; the mother of the Fourth Reich.
The Kaiserin was the legacy of the late Kaiser, and instrumental in the success of OPERATION VALKYRIE. If not, she may have been the spark that ignited it. To many she was a saviour; she spared Germany from a far worse fate that could've befallen her people. To others, she was a traitor that deserved to have been hung and shot. In the minds of the Nazis, she convinced Germany to give up and whore itself out to the Western Allies.
For Bismarck? It was complicated.
On the one hand, Bismarck was given the namesake of the man who created the concept of modern Germany. The man who helped unite the separate German states. She was supposed to be the one to uphold and preserve the ideals of what was Germany. What it was to be German; to be Ironblood. They were the people that she had sworn to protect, like so many of her fellow soldiers and warriors before her. Just thinking about it made her chest swell with pride.
On the other hand, how was she supposed to serve and protect those ideals - to protect her people, if she wasn't even 'born?' Her birth - her creation - was made possible thanks to the machinations of the Third Reich. The warmongers wished to push their own bastardized German ideals to the world. The Nazis didn't have the heart of Germany or the soul of the Fatherland. Unfortunately, it was those monsters that gave her life and gave her purpose. The Third Reich gave all of her Ironblood kin life, but not a German life. They were soldiers, they were weapons of war. They were made to create a world that was supposed to be for them, but was it a world for Germany or for the Nazis?
It was a situation that frustrated the battleship to no end. She knew deep down that she was supposed to be loyal to her people; to her nation. Yet, a small part of her knew that she never would've experienced the very concept of loyalty in the first place, without the assistance of the Third Reich. Her very existence was indebted to the Nazis. It felt like a joke; a very cruel and bitter joke. There were times, albeit rare times, when she wished she simply stayed at the bottom of the sea. So, she wouldn't have to witness the prolonged suffering of her Ironblood kin, of her people, or the humiliation that was brought unto her. What would her namesake think or say if he bared witness to the monster his once noble nation had become?
Despite it all, she could never truly take her eyes off the Kaiserin. Whenever there was a meeting or when she wished to be alone with her thoughts, her eyes would eventually drift to her picture. There was a sensation in her heart that she didn't like to admit she possessed. She was given the namesake of a great and influential man. The man who defeated Napoleon III, who forged the lands and borders of a great empire. Bismarck knew she was more than just a namesake. She was the flagship of the Kriegsmarine; the leader of the Ironblood! Bismarck commanded fleets, with only a few words she could sway people to her side. She was a woman so feared by her adversaries that they threw everything they had at her. She was the pride of a nation; she was the Queen of the Ocean! So why was it that Thüringen was made Kaiserin, and not her?
It was a question that plagued Bismarck ever since the news first reached her ears. While she and those who sacrificed blood, brass, oil, sweat and tears were marched out of their home like Roman war trophies, why was Thüringen was allowed to stay?
Was it because Thüringen knew the late Kaiser personally, and knew life in Germany before them? Perhaps it was because she took part in the coup, while Bismarck remained neutral and watched where the dice fell. Did the people fear Bismarck and her unfortunate affiliation with the Third Reich? Was it simply politics in the end, and Thüringen had better optics? Bismarck didn't know, but she envied her nonetheless and she hated herself for it. Whenever she stared at her picture, she wondered if she would look as beautiful and regal in her own noble attire. To be seen as the leader Germany needed, to feel like all her and her kin's sacrifices weren't in vain. Would they ever be allowed to return? Would their sacrifices even be acknowledged or remembered by the people they swore to protect? Or would they simply be left on this island to collect rust, and be swept under the metaphorical rug by the people she loved? She often wondered what was a crueller fate: to be sunk or to be forgotten.
"Herrin Bismarck?" A quiet voice called next to her in their mother tongue, which made the battleship snap herself out of her self-induced musings. At her side was one of her more trustworthy subordinates. She was on the younger side - a destroyer, but she was on the older spectrum in that regard. She was fair-skinned, with wheat-blonde hair, that was cut short down to her neck. Her eyes were as blue as the waters of the North Atlantic. She wore a tri-coloured bow tied to the side of her head, along with a black beret with gold trim. Her under top was a black sleeveless spandex leotard, while over the top was that of a modified tunic. It was white and sleeveless, went down to below her waist, and attached to her red skirt. The destroyer wore black gloves, which were part of her matching arm gloves that flared out with red inlay. While her legs had dark blue, spandex-like, thigh-highs with golden accents. The boots were red with golden accents. Her attire was topped with a dark blue and red caplet that was draped below her shoulders, and attached to the bases of her arm gloves. The young woman also wore a pair of headphones that she wore casually around her neck. She looked at Bismarck with a hint of concern. "Is everything alright Herrin Bismarck?" She repeated but made sure that her voice was low enough, not to draw the others around her attention. "You spaced out, again."
The battleship let a small sigh escape her lips. It wasn't the first time she had been caught in such a situation. Bismarck reached into her coat and pulled out her lighter. She flicked it to life as she reignited the half-finished cigar that lay snug in the ashtray. She took a few puffs before she snapped the lighter shut. It was one of the few luxuries that she managed to bring from home, imported Cubans, ironically enough. "I apologize for that Z23," she whispered back, "I was… lost in my own thoughts." She gave the destroyer a faint smile in humble acceptance. "Did I miss something that requires my attention?"
Z23 shook her head, "No Herrin Bismarck. They are still squabbling about unnecessary things and trying to get under each other's skin… again." She frowned disapprovingly, "I wanted to make sure you weren't caught being less attentive. You may have to intervene." Bismarck quirked one of her delicate brows and took a single puff. She wanted to know what Z23 was referring to, but her ears quickly perked up to the conversion before her.
"... well, I hope that you feel better and have learned a valuable lesson now Scharnhorst?" She heard Prinz Eugen say as she leaned back against her chair. "I mean, I hope you weren't too rough with the man. Sure, he may have touched your pert little ass, but that's hardly a crime. You should be thankful you're still getting any positive attention to begin with." She smirked as she took a deep drink from her glass. It was piss-water American beer. Most of all the good, hard liquor was destroyed thanks in no small part to the woman in front of her. The worst part was they had no idea when they would receive a new shipment. She only hoped that the good captain would get them some of the good stuff sooner rather than later.
The woman in question gave Eugen an ugly scowl. "The pig smacked my ass and had the gall to ask if I 'wanted a good time.' If more than half the damn base can keep it in their pants, so can the rest. The bastard got what he damn well deserved if you ask me." Scharnhorst retorted. She was similar to her sister in many ways, but also very much the opposite. Same pale complexion, along with hair and eye colour; they even sported the same wedge-style caps. Although, Scharnhorst sported a waist-high, short-sleeved dark blue jacket with red inlay. It was unzipped from the bottom, up, which showed off a generous amount of her underbust. The rest of her tunic was the same dark blue and joined at a matching skirt, which ended at her thighs. She wore thigh-high dark blue boots with red accents at the top. She was just as beautiful as her sister, but her most discernible features, were her eyepatch, along with two distinctive pinprick marks on her neck. Courtesy and a parting gift from one Duke of York.
Scharnhorst sat next to her sister who patiently listened to the conversation. Though Gneisenau ultimately was there to make sure that her sister didn't do anything too over the top. It was bad enough that she had to come home from a long sortie to hear that her sister got into a brawl. It was worse knowing that Scharnhorst threw the first punch and damn near killed a marine and openly fist-fought with the Eagle Union girls. Was the man in the right to harass her sister? No. Was it an appropriate response to throw them out a window with a fist? Also no. Unfortunately, these were actions that were typical of her sister, but Gneisenau hoped that she would be more careful. Especially in the precarious position, they were all in.
Gneisenau sighed as she popped a fresh lollipop into her mouth. She observed her compatriots on the opposite end of the table. Admiral Hipper seemed like she too was on sibling babysitting duty. Her emerald-green eyes glared at Eugen, while also trying to look as disinterested as possible. Blücher on the other hand, happily hummed a tune while she played a game of Solitaire of all things. Even when she played a simple card game, no matter what the war threw at her, she always had such a carefree smile.
Gneisenau envied her for that.
Everyone else left for the in-house pub that was next door. It was one of the few luxuries that the previous leadership allowed the shipgirls to do; design the interior of their barracks. The Ironblood took the liberty to turn the main floor into a German-style pub, and meeting room which was separated by the main foyer. It was far from the ones she'd been to back home, but it was the best they could do.
Scharnhorst stared daggers at Eugen, as she nearly finished her freshly lit cigarette in a single intake. The plume blew out angrily through her nostrils. "And you know exactly how the 'punishment' went. You were there…" Her back still stung, and she couldn't sleep on her back that night. She was just thankful that the cubes allowed them to heal faster, but they couldn't stop the burning sting that corded leather did to exposed skin. Didn't help that Bismarck's riding crops tip was laced with dead cube shards.
Eugen nodded, "yes that is fair. But sometimes I wonder if you wanted to be punished. I mean there is no shame in that. It happens to you so often after all." She smiled smugly, "I always took you as the sadistic, not masochist type of girl, but I guess everyone has a surprise or two they didn't know about themselves. There is no shame in liking that sort of thing Scharnhorst; sometimes it's a good thing to spice things up in the bedroom. If you'd like I can lend you my handcuffs, and we can scope out a proper man for you too~ Maybe one of those mechanics or engineers?" She offered as she nonchalantly swirled her glass in her hand. "They might even be able to 'fix your boilers,' give you some… personal maintenance~"
"Go fuck yourself."
"No need to. I have someone for that~" She winked. "Berny is always there to 'fix my engines' when I need him. It's better when he gets angry too~" She smiled as she took a deep sip and made a show of licking her lips. The other girls around her had varying reactions, ranging from a blushing mess to an annoyed eye roll. "Thanks to him and his magical hands and skills, I'm probably the most fuel-efficient ship in the fleet~"
Just like that, a proverbial glass was shattered. Scharnhorst growled as she shot up from her seat and slammed her hands onto the table so hard that it shook. She had enough. "Well good for-fuckin-you! I'm so sorry that I don't like it when someone gets a little too close for comfort. Not everyone here had the luxury of not being used as a living pin cushion for those assholes! Sorry that I can't simply spread my legs and fuck the stress away. Not everyone had the luxury of fucking their handler for protection, you bitch!" Scharnhorst snapped, and Eugen's playful mood immediately dropped. Everyone in the room went silent as they all looked between the heavy and the battlecruiser. Scharnhorst's shoulders rose and sank deeply as the fire blazed behind her single functioning eye. She tried her best not to let the pain show, as she fought the tears that threatened to escape her eye. Scharnhorst had enough of Eugen acting like she had a good life. Pretending like they all never had to deal with what the Reich did to them. She hated that she got to have a happier ending than so many of the others.
She unconsciously turned her head toward the table full of items from home. Directed toward a single field cap, stained with blood. She felt her heart lodge into her throat as her cubes sang a sorrowful song. She quickly looked away as her baleful eye bore into Eugen, who stared back, but there was an audible crack from the glass in her hand. It hadn't shattered but was now decorated in spider-webbed cracks.
Bismarck watched the two as she slowly bit into her cigar. If it was going to degrade into a brawl, they could take it outside. If they were going to unleash their rigging, she had a twin 380mm SK turret at the ready for both of them. The battleship stayed her hand for the moment. She felt tense, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Just as it seemed like either Eugen or Scharnhorst was ready to turn the meeting room into a very violent boxing ring, someone else intervened.
She was the matriarch of the Admiral Hipper-class heavy cruisers. She had long golden-blonde hair, and it was done in twin tails like Blücher. Her eyes were a cool emerald, with a small beauty mark under her left eye. She was on the shorter side for a heavy cruiser, as well as a chest that no one - not even some destroyers - could envy. She sported a stylized cap on her head, which also had a couple of red metal pieces attached to her twin tails. The heavy cruiser wore a tunic-like dress, which was primarily grey with black and red accents. The sleeves of the dress were mainly red with grey accents. She - like Eugen - had cut-outs around the armpits that were there to 'theoretically' show what she had under the dress. Her legs had a pair of black and grey thigh-high stockings, with black and grey boots that flared at the top. Her outfit was finished off with a choker that was in the Imperial German colours, that was also adorned with the Iron Cross with Crossed Swords and Oak Leaves. She wore her medal with pride.
Admiral Hipper stood up from her chair and placed a gloved hand on her younger sister's shoulder. She squeezed it gently, as she eyed Scharnhorst, "that's not fair and you know it." Her voice was low but still held a cold sharp edge.
Eugen looked at her sister with a surprised expression, but it quickly morphed into a smile of gratitude. She knew that she was a pain to Hipper; with all the teasing about her flat chest, short temper and hostile tsundere attitude. Hell, she knew she could be a downright bitch to her sometimes and they would get into verbal scraps. But they were sisters - family; and family supported each other through thick and thin. Especially when they were all that each other had. Eugen loved her sisters, and they in turn loved her. The notion was only reinforced when she felt Blücher reach over and gently squeeze her hand. "It's not fair to pull that card." Hipper restated, "He protected my sister; that is something I can't ask any less of him. What happened to a lot of us was beyond even his control. In the end; he helped us all and probably saved us from a far worse fate. As much as Eugen is an absolute pain in my ass…" She gave a quick look to her sister, then back to Scharnhorst. "... she is still my sister, and he makes her happy. Happier than I've seen her in a long time." Hipper's cheeks reddened, like having said those words out loud was an embarrassing confession. "Don't throw punches at my sister, just because she has something that all of us want."
Eugen was about to thank Hipper until she caught a familiar glint in her older sister's eyes. "But I will say this," Hipper continued but turned an accusatory stare toward her sister. "You shouldn't even be talking about those things either, Eugen. Scharnhorst has had it bad enough as it is. The last thing she needs is to be reminded of what's happened to a lot of us - me included; may I remind you. You should know this and you should be better than this Eugen." The heavy cruiser refused to look her older sister in the eyes. Hipper sighed, "but she's my sister, and I will do what I can to support her. You Scharnhorst - should understand this sentiment just as much as I do. We are the matriarchs of our respective classes after all."
The room was deathly silent. Scharnhorst's good eye quickly snapped between the three Admiral Hipper-class sisters. They all stared back with a resolution in their collection of emerald and amber eyes. Then she turned to her own sister who stared back apprehensively, as she placed a comforting hand on her clenched fist, squeezing it supportively. Scharnhorst's eye then slowly drifted toward Bismarck, she hoped to get some support from their leader, but Bismarck merely observed them all, and nonchalantly puffed at her cigar. Though Bismarck's eyes warned of severe repercussions if she dared try to start another fight.
The battlecruiser growled and crushed her half-finished cigarette in a clenched fist. The pinpricks on her neck suddenly flared with uncomfortable heat. Scharnhorst needed to get out before it became too unbearable. She mumbled a faux apology and stomped out of the room. Gneisenau quickly apologized and followed her sister. Everyone in the room could hear the heavy footfalls fade outside, and Bismarck sighed. The battleship turned her attention toward Hipper and nodded in approval. For her part, Hipper merely bowed her head lightly and sat back down. She also received a whispered thanks from Eugen, which also prompted the Admiral Hipper-class matriarch to further berate her sister for the unnecessary aggravation toward the battlecruiser.
Bismarck watched them with mild amusement. As much as she would hate to ever admit it, she couldn't help but feel a small amount of envy for the Admiral Hipper-class girls. To have siblings that supported and cared for you. To be there for each other when you need them, and when they needed you. She couldn't help but feel pain in her chest, as those thoughts immediately reminded her of her own sister. Bismarck took a long puff, in an effort to prevent herself from sighing. There were so many things she wished she could've said to her. There were so many things she wanted to do with her, but now the opportunity would never come to pass. Tirpitz was gone. Her hull was destroyed, and her body was never recovered. Yet there is a sliver of hope; her cubes were safe and intact. Yet here she was on the other side of the world, and she couldn't do a damn thing about it. Was it foolish of her to hope that she'd ever see her sister again? Perhaps, but it was a hope that she would foolishly hold on to it until her last breath. She dared to hold onto a single strand of hope, that one day she would see Tirpitz again.
Some days, hope was all that kept her going.
She shook her head from her thoughts as she brought her full attention toward Z23. She offered the destroyer a small bundle of papers, "I need you to give these to Cpt. Levesque; they're requisition orders for the expended ammunition and fuel from the previous sortie. I'm sure he would appreciate the accurate numbers." She allowed herself a ghost of a smile at the thought of the man being drowned in bureaucracy. Maybe she could offer a hand? His reaction to her was vitriol at best, and she wanted to mend that bridge. He may be the only opportunity she and her kin had to have a possible connection to their home, and have the power to do so. As much as she wanted to tend to the matter personally, there were other matters that required her immediate attention. There was someone else she needed to have a much-needed discussion with. She also knew that she would have to have a more personal discussion with Scharnhorst, once she calmed down from her little temper tantrum.
Z23 took the papers and offered a light bow, as she hastily left the barracks. Once she stepped out, she was greeted by a sun that shined brightly, and clouds that lazily drifted along the light blue canvas. The smell of sea salt filled the destroyer's lungs and her cubes hummed pleasantly. She liked being in the Pacific; the sea felt far less harsh, and the air lacked the chilling bite of the Atlantic.
The papers were tucked neatly under her arm as she marched with practised grace. The base hummed with activity, as she watched soldiers and shipgirls go about their routines. She spotted several marines and Bulin cleaning empty oil drums in the motor pool, while some off-duty personnel took the opportunity to play some basketball. Of course, the two most prominent players on the court were Cleveland and Magdeburg. She wouldn't admit it, but she was a little envious of her light cruiser compatriot. Magdeburg was able to become friends with some of the Eagle Union girls, yet so many of her Ironblood kin struggled to make more than acquaintances. There were some from the Sakura that they were able to regularly converse with, but she noticed that she and her kin kept to themselves more often than not.
Was it self-imposed isolation as a pseudo-punishment for their actions during the war? Maybe, it was more of social awkwardness, because they were told to break bread with a former enemy? Z23 didn't know, but she wished it was as easy as Magdeburg seemed to make it. It wasn't as though Z23 was incapable, she was just too busy. Z23 was a trusted member of Bismarck's fleet and took great pride in knowing that she trusted her to complete tasks. It wasn't just administrative duties that she was entrusted with, but she was busy work looking after her sisterships… well what was left of them anyway. At least she still had some of her siblings left, unlike others she knew.
Z23 was so deep in her morbid thoughts, that she didn't notice that she was in front of the captain's estate until her forehead snacked the front door. She let out a startled yelp, then cursed under her breath. The destroyer chastised herself for her momentary lapse of self-awareness.
Before she could knock on the door, however, it was already opened and she was greeted by the only Royal Navy girl on base. "Ah, good afternoon, miss Z23. What a pleasant surprise." Belfast greeted with a polite bow, "please come in." She gestured inside and Z23 followed suit. Even though they were once enemies, the destroyer had to respect the maid. Not only was she a skilled warrior, but she was strong-willed and strove for the best with both beauty and grace.
Z23 thought that she would've made an excellent Ironblood.
"I do apologize in advance, I was not anticipating guests," Belfast said. "I would've made some tea."
"It's quite alright, thank you. I'm only here to drop off some papers for the captain," Z23 explained.
The maid gave a polite nod, "of course, Master is in his office, up the stairs to the right. Please help yourself. If you need anything else, all you need is to ask." The maid departed with a light bow, as Z23 followed her directions. She stopped in front of the door, and let out a breath to calm her increased heart rate. She hadn't seen the new commander in person. From what she heard from both Eugen and Gneisenau; despite them having been enemies during the war, he was a polite and welcoming man. Even though she knew that wasn't the case for Herrin Bismarck when she returned to the barracks. She never spoke in-depth about their interactions, but from what little Bismarck said, it was less than pleasant, comparatively speaking. The destroyer hoped that he didn't have any ill will toward herself. With one last once over to make sure she was presentable, she wrapped her knuckles around the door.
Only after a couple of seconds, she heard someone from the other side grant her permission to enter. Once she stepped in, she was greeted by a man in a naval officer's summer dress. His black overcoat hung on a coat stand, and his cap was placed on the corner of his desk. Captain Levesque pulled his face away from the papers he was buried in and looked at her. Despite the dark rings under his eyes, Z23 could see why the other girls described him as a handsome man. His storm-grey eyes softened once he caught her own, and he gave her a kind, welcoming smile. It was a smile that made a lump form in her throat, as well as made her heart jump. It felt so comforting, and warm - It felt honest. Like a much-needed blanket after a day out in the snow. It felt kind and made her feel like everything would be alright.
It made her feel safe.
His smile widened ever so slightly, "can I help you with something miss?" He asked with a light chuckle which caused Z23 to snap out of her daze.
She quickly snapped to attention, "Z23 of the 1936A-class destroyers reporting, Herr Kapitän!" She stated in her accented English. "I have come to bring you the requisition orders from the Ironblood barracks. Courtesy of Herrin Bismarck, Herr Kapitän." The mention of Bismarck's name made his smile fade slightly but he nods nonetheless. Her designation confused him somewhat. He was unfamiliar with the German designations when it came to their ships. He wondered if she was one of the Narvik-class destroyers he spotted in port the other day. He'd have to ask later.
"Alright, hand them over to me please," Levesque said in their mother tongue. It surprised her to hear her language be spoken so fluently. Though she should've anticipated this since Eugen said he was half German. Even though she had heard Scheer speak to them in German regularly, it felt refreshing to hear someone else speak their language regardless. She obliged as she walked over and he took the papers from her offered hand. "Thank you… Z23? Interesting name, if I may say so myself, eh."
"My sisters and I weren't given proper names," Z23 said plainly. The man looked at her disheartened but nodded as he gestured for her to stay, while he read the contents of the papers. Z23 took the opportunity to take a closer look around his office.
It appeared he started to add his own little eccentricities to his office. The biggest one she noticed was the ensign of his homeland was hung proudly on the wall, along with a humble picture of the King of the Royal Navy and the Commonwealth, His Majesty King George VI. She never understood the differences between the kansen and the humans when it came to their monarchs. The Royal Navy girls that she conversed with before the incident, always made comments about Queen Elizabeth the battleship. Yet many of the Royal Marines, as well as the captain refer to the current monarch of their Commonwealth. What was the disconnect? She found it so strange that they seemed to have a difference between the human and kansen forms of leadership. On the other hand, she felt she had no true right to judge or make conclusions; her own nation's government was just as much of a confusing mess at the moment.
As she wondered about his office, she spotted the bulletin board with the map and missing people. She stepped towards it and observed them all in greater detail. She didn't know the girls personally - while a couple she would've considered acquaintances - she felt the impact of their loss. The whole base did, whether they wanted to or not. What piqued her interest, however, was the map itself.
Along the borders of several landmasses, were drawn about in red. Specifically, Australia, New Zealand, Papua, New Guinea, the Philippines, and Japan, were squared off, with the words, 'Not there' written on them. Next where the Dutch East Indies, as well as parts of Malaysia, were also bordered in red ink and written were the words, 'possible but doubt.' While Vichy Indochina, as well as the Republic of China, had simple question marks written on their territories. Those question marks also ran up toward the Siberian coast of the Soviet Union. While as far as the coast of India had simple red 'X's.
"Curious?" She heard him say. She twisted her head, to see that he was looking at her. Z23 nodded as he peeled himself off his chair, and slowly strolled around his desk. "Well, none of this is confirmed, but my own assumptions," he admitted with a lame shrug, "so it's possible that this is completely wrong and subject to change, but I doubt it." She listened as he explained how he believed that all lands that were either a NATO nation's territory or of the Commonwealth would've reported Adams if he was in their waters. They would've reported his whereabouts, and what he was doing, so he would've avoided those areas. Or at the very least reported them, after the fact that he'd gone rogue went through appropriate channels. While the lands are currently in civil war, like Malaysia, the Dutch East Indies could've made possible stops. Even though they were in turmoil, they were still territories of NATO states, and the officials there would have reported a mass fleet in their area, even if Adams would give them faux support. He also stated that he couldn't have travelled as far as India, simply because the logistics would've caused too much of a footprint. He more than likely stayed within the Pacific.
Then he emphasized the Asian mainland. Since Vichy France was not a NATO state, they were less inclined to offer information about Adams' whereabouts, and the fact it was in a civil war would've made the area an ideal hiding spot. China was also in a civil war and far larger coast to hide in, then there was the possibility that Adams went turncoat and fled to the Soviet Union.
Z23 listened to the man and digested his words. They sounded like fair arguments and theories. "What makes you think that the local officials or the rebels hadn't gotten their hands on them, Herr Kapitän?" She asked.
"Well, that's fair, and to that, I would say that we would've heard about it by now." He said, "someone would've blown a whistle over a corrupt official, and well I doubt any wannabe warlord has the funds to bribe someone to shut up about ten missing warships. Not only that, but I suspect that there would've been a nice paper trail. Especially when it involves NATO. Then, let's say that it was the rebel guerillas that managed to get their hands on them, then we would have heard about it by now. We would've received reports about an increase in firepower and heavier ordnance being dropped on our allies. Since well, the vast majority of Adams' firepower is cruiser level and up." He explained as he leaned himself against the edge of his desk, closer to Z23, as he crossed his arms in contemplative thought.
Z23 nodded again as she listened to his reasoning. "You make good points Herr Kapitän," she said with a slight smile, "I'm glad to know you're taking this assignment seriously."
"I don't know why I wouldn't be," he said with a shrug, "It's the reason why I'm here after all. Though like I said; those are just theories so I could very well be wrong. My biggest hunch is Indochina, he and the girls may not be there now, but they may have made a pitstop. If I give the Vichy a hand somehow, they may be more inclined to help me out. They may even know something that we don't. Even if they have nothing, at least I'll be able to cross off one more suspect at least."
The destroyer pondered the map and what he said further. The gears in her head churned, and her brow furrowed as something come to her. "May I comment on something, Herr Kapitän?" He nodded his permission. "Is it not possible that he is only using one vessel to travel around to have a stealthier approach?" She suggested, and then further elaborated, "your strategy may work if they are still using all their vessels, but if you haven't already known; we kansen can operate independently from our ships - same as our rigging. So, he very well might have told the girls to sink their vessels and they've all been travelling on a single ship." She watched his eyes widen and lips pursed, his dumbfounded expression would've been rather humorous, if not for the severity of the revelation.
Levesque's arms broke off from each other, and he pressed them against his desk. His fingers tapped against the wood furniture rapidly, as his own brow furrowed. He had been going on the assumption that he was after ten girls and their warships, not ten girls in a single warship. Depending on the ship they decided to use too, it would make skirting along coastlines and travelling into deep rivers far easier. Unfortunately, it made too much sense. If Adams truly was a member of some covert operation during the war, why wouldn't he want to use what he learned to good use? Make as little noise and of little of a footprint as possible. A fleet would only draw attention to himself.
The realization hit Levesque like a truck. "Tabarnak," he cursed in his father's tongue, "how the hell didn't I think of that…" He muttered to himself in disbelief, as he dragged his hands down his face. "But if that was the case, wouldn't we have found their hulls by now?" He could at least hope that there was a breadcrumb trail made of oil, and steel he could follow.
"Not necessarily," Z23 stated, "you and I both know that the ocean is vast and very deep. A battleship can sink in a matter of minutes, depending on where you hit it, of course. If there are no aircraft in the area, then who would be there to witness the sinking? Even if a plane or ship finds a large oil slick, it could be days afterwards, Herr Kapitän."
Levesque nodded slowly in acknowledgement and defeat; that would've been too easy. "You make some rather valid points." He admitted, which made Z23 cheeks pinken with pride. He muttered to himself again as he shook his head. "I have to say you're quite talented when it comes to this sort of thing. Or I'm just blind and need glasses." He joked with a small smirk.
"Danke," Z23 said with a small giggle, "I'm used to having to draw up plans and come up with contingencies. I was a flotilla leader back in the war, and well, I had a lot of sisters to take care of. So it pays to be attentive and catch all the details." It was probably why Herrin Bismarck trusted her with event and schedule organization. Probably one of the very few Herrin Bismarck trusted to get the jobs she wanted to be done.
The captain hummed lightly in thought as he looked between the map and Z23. What she said made sense and it was something he should've considered, but he surmised it paid to have another set of eyes. He felt he didn't have to scrap his original idea, but now he just needed to work the additional layer into it. That was a headache for another time, however. He turned his attention to Z23, and clicked his tongue, "how would you like to go on a walk with me?" He said suddenly.
"W-what?" The destroyer stammered. "Not that I'm against it, but why me and where would we go, Herr Kapitän?" She didn't have other obligations to attend to, but the invitation still surprised her.
"Well, this talk of the girls made me remember that I have people that I need to speak with." He said plainly with a shrug. "Besides I need to get out of this office from time to time. I've been catching up with the logistical sabotage. The fresh air would do me some much-needed good too, eh."
"Sabotage, Herr Kapitän?" She asked, surprised by the accusation.
The captain sighed as he shook his head, "poor choice of wording on my part, but there are far too many inconsistencies in the paperwork for it to be just incompetence. It's almost mathematical with how little we're receiving, but it's just enough to keep this base above water. Too coincidental for my taste." If there was one thing that he had learned throughout his years in the military, and the war, it was to listen to your gut. And his gut told him something was off. "I have no evidence to prove that it actually is, and since I don't have the time or resources to conduct a proper investigation, I can't court-martial them. What I can do, however, is round up those who're responsible off my base, and they can be someone else's problem. At least the papers you gave me were all right, and the numbers looked far more believable - good thing I can read German, eh?" He smirked and she giggled again, "but that's an issue for another time. Right now, I'd rather stretch my legs and speak to Colorado, eh." He gave her another one of those warm smiles, that made her cheeks dust pink. She nodded in agreement. The captain stretched his back and slipped on his naval coat, then stuffed his notebook and pen into his pocket. He rested his cap under his arm and gestured for Z23 to follow.
The duo descended the stairs and were greeted by Belfast. Levesque asked her to join them on their walk, and she agreed graciously. Once they were out in the Pacific sun, Levesque placed his cap on and the trio walked down toward the base.
"Now the question is, where would Colorado be right now?" He asked himself as the girls followed closely behind. He figured she would be the first he'd ask since the majority of the girls gone were American, and a number of them were at Pearl Harbour when it happened. He assumed she would've had the most information about them - apart from Washington. Even though it would've been a good opportunity to gather more information, he felt it wasn't appropriate to ask her the other day. Both Belfast and Z23 wondered the same question and suggested that they try the training arena just out into the water. Levesque arched a brow at their explanation.
"It's an area where we shipgirls go out to exercise and work with our rigging, Master." Belfast clarified when she noticed his confused expression. "I don't know miss Colorado's schedule, but it would be a safe assumption, no less. If she isn't there, then one of the other girls might be of assistance, Master." Levesque nodded in agreement and asked the girls to lead the way. Belfast graciously took the lead, while Z23 walked by the captain's side. She couldn't help but feel a slight giddiness as they walked together. It was like he gave off an aura of calm strength. She couldn't describe it or put it into words, but it was as though she knew she was protected. That she would be safe. It was a far more pleasant feeling than that of walking on eggshells, which she had been used to as of late.
The trio travelled along the base, and then passed the basketball court. Levesque spotted Cleveland playing alongside a few marines, as well as a girl he didn't recognize. The strawberry-blonde noticed them first and gave a friendly wave. Levesque returned it as well as giving a friendly smile.
They travelled deeper along the base, and the port until they reached the far end. There they reached the end of the runway, as well as the dykes for the port, which slowly morphed into beaches. If the three decided to move further inland instead of the along the beach, they would travel up along a large shallow sloping cliff. Its stone-walled face reminded Samuel of the white cliffs of Dover. Up on the very top of the cliff, there was an ancient lighthouse. Levesque surmised it would give a wonderful of the ocean if he decided to venture up there.
As they followed the foot and obvious vehicle traffic embedded in the sand, Levesque noticed they were far enough from the base to have some privacy, but not far enough to be isolated. The first familiar person he spotted was Nashville. She stood next to an ambulance truck, with a couple of medics who stood by. They all seemed to be in casual conversation and didn't notice his arrival. There were a couple of other girls who stood on the beach, one of the more peculiar out of all of them, was a nun.
She was a tiny woman all things considered. Her hair was silver-white that ran along her back, as well as two braided tails that ended at her shoulders. Her top was short and ended at the thighs, with additional slits along said thighs. Her stockings were pure white and the stings that attached to her garter were open for the eyes to see. Her sleeves were cut short, but they splayed out magnificently, with the help of the wind, showing off the pink inlay within. He assumed she was one of the shipgirls. If she was a real nun, she would've been excommunicated, and given every other sister she encountered a heart attack. If she was his school teacher when he was younger, on the other hand, he knew he would've failed her classes. He would be the first and not truly ashamed to admit, she also would've been the subject of some rather sinful, late-night fantasies in his youth.
Next to her was another shipgirl. Her skin was alabaster, while her hair was black and cut short to the neck. He noticed dark blue highlights at the tips of her hair that reflect off the sun's light. What surprised him, however, were the - what he assumed - horns that seemed to sprout from her head. They were a sharp crimson, thin and curved upwards. They almost reminded Levesque of the wreath crowns he'd seen Roman emperors depicted with. She wore an odd-looking jacket that also acted like a dress. It was black with red accents, and the collar was off to the side and highly exaggerated. It covered her right shoulder, while the left was completely exposed which showed off what he assumed was a modified white undershirt. The sleeves of her jacket ended with what looked like armoured black vambraces, while her fingers each had a bladed digit. He couldn't tell if they were detachable or not. While her long slender legs were covered in form-fitting black leather boots that went all the way up to her thighs. They had elegant designs of silver, etched into them and shone off the sun. The boots were connected by a pair of thick straps that attached to something that disappeared inside her jacket.
She stood at the forefront and observed what was out at sea with utmost vigilance and scrutiny. The aura that she exuded was both powerful and something he couldn't quite describe. She possessed the quiet confidence of Bismarck but lacked the regal essence that the blonde battleship exuded. The ravenette, had a presence that was hard to ignore, but he couldn't figure out what it was. It both unnerved, and fascinated the veteran.
The three walked closer to the group until they quietly merged into it. After a few seconds passed, he decided to make his presence known. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." This caused everyone's heads to snap toward him, and he was rewarded with several degrees of surprise. Everyone snapped to attention, and the lead member saluted the captain, to which he returned the gesture. Levesque ordered everyone back at ease, and then he noticed the girl's eyes: the nuns were sky-blue, serine and caring. But also portrayed an aura of authority. While he doubted, she could lead forces to victory, he felt that everyone on base listened to her when it came to issues of health. While the one closest to him, hers was a gold-yellow. She was a rather attractive woman, in a dangerous, and mysterious sort of way. What caught his attention and make his skin crawl were her eyes. Her pupils were slits, like that of a cat or some other sort of predator. She stared at him with a dark calculating stare, that reminded him of Kaga in a way. Just like Kaga, he replied in kind with his own stare. He refused to cower or be cowed by the woman on base. They needed to understand that he wouldn't bend the knee to them, regardless of their power.
She seemed to understand the silent conversion, as a small smirk creased along her lips. Ulrich appreciated a man with some backbone, but it would take more than just a stare-down to win her approval. "Greetings, Captain." Her voice was quiet, smooth as silk, but it held an air of authority that spoke of power. "I believe introductions are in order? I am the H-class battleship, Ulrich von Hutten, one of the few survivors of Plan Z, and fewer equals to Bismarck." She said with a subtle sense of pride in her tone. "My compatriot here is Vestal of the Vestal-class repair vessels. And I assume you already know of Nashville? She was with Fräu Gneisenau when you met her, after all. I must say, I've heard about you from my comrades, but it's a pleasure to finally see you with my own eyes." She then noticed the two girls that flanked him, and she gave them a respective nod. They returned the gesture as she turned her attention back to the captain. "Is there something you need from us, Captain?" Ulrich asked.
"Yes, there is actually," Levesque said, "I'm looking for Colorado. I have some questions I'd like to ask her, and I was hoping that I could catch her. Have you seen her today?" Ulrich nodded then gestured out onto the ocean. Three sets of eyes followed the direction.
Out in the distance, he could spot the silhouette of Colorado. Her rigging was activated and he would be a liar if he said, that what she possessed was nothing less than impressive. On her back was a smaller version of her conning tower, which housed four mechanical arms. Each contained one of her impressive duel-barreled 406mm Mark I turrets, while the foremost platforms also had portions of her bow. He watched as she fired her turrets independently from each other. She skated along the water gracefully as she dodged, weaved and unleashed counterfire with deafening roars of her guns. They by no means made his ears ring as her actual vessel would have, but they reminded him of not-so-distant field artillery. He watched as squadrons of what vaguely looked like, blue, flaming A6M Zeros strafed at her. At the same time, she dashed and skirted away to avoid being hit, by D3A Val dive bombers as they dropped their payloads. Pillars of seawater erupted into towering geysers around her. Out in the distance, he caught her opponent and she was - for a lack of a better word - awe-inspiring.
Kaga skated along the water, far away from Colorado, but he could spot her distinctive white robes, and ears. Several tails were behind her that he never noticed until now. What caught his attention, however, was what he assumed was her rigging. Instead of a machine, she had what he could only describe as an ethereal flight deck at her hip. It glowed a blue fire that licked into the air, which only enhanced her inhuman beauty. She just as gracefully dodged the super-dreadnoughts projectiles. Only to retaliate as she controlled the blue, burning aircraft like an orchestral conductor.
He had never truly seen shipgirls fight in such a way. Not even when he had fought the Sirens did they skate on the water to meet him in battle. It was so surreal and beautiful how they danced, swerved and manoeuvred. They were warriors, dancers and marvels in their own right, and he simply was left speechless. As blasphemous as it was to think, Jesus Christ never skated on the Sea of Galilee.
He watched as the two paused. Kaga's planes remained in the air, like a kettle of vultures. She seemed collected, and clean for the most part, but he noticed that she was also damp, with a few tears and black pot marks, that contrasted against her white and blue kimono. Colorado, on the other hand, seemed like she had seen better days.
Her conning tower resembled an ancient lighthouse, with how much fire poured out of it. The fronts of her bow resembled steel Swiss cheese, while the rear turret on her portside was pockmarked, with one of the barrels stuck at an odd angle. It looked like she held her own, but he could see she was struggling. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and he spotted a line of crimson across her snow-white cheek. Levesque didn't know how long they'd been going at it, but it appeared that they were far from done. He took the opportunity to ask some questions of his own.
"So, can someone explain to me, what's going on?" Levesque asked curiously, "are these fights dangerous enough to warrant medical crews?"
"Colorado and Kaga are having a spar, Captain," Ulrich explained as if she was stating an obvious observation. "It's nothing to be concerned about. This is a regular occurrence, and this is one of the sanctioned ones; that's meant for training and blowing off steam. It was initially supposed to be Colorado and Taihou who were supposed to spar, but she… still refuses to leave the barracks." A frown crossed her face, as she shook her head with an agitated sigh, "I'm here to break things off if the fighting gets too… intense, Captain."
"I see, and I assume that this is a regular occurrence with this woman; this Taihou?" Levesque asked. He shouldn't have been surprised that trauma affected everyone differently. Though if there is someone that is refusing orders and isolating themselves, they could easily and rapidly become a liability. He couldn't afford to have that. It looked like Taihou would be another issue he would have to deal with, sooner rather than later. The captain slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it, a sigh escaped as he took a puff, and ignored the burning hole he felt from one Vestal. Whose facial expression screamed bloody murder. "So," he began, "I take it that these… spars are damaging enough to warrant medical aid to you girls?"
"Oh, they're tough and can take a beating, but they aren't invincible, even if some of them like to believe they are." One of the medics said. "We're here to patch up anything serious, sure they're cubes help, but it's kinda hard to heal up when you're bleeding out, ya know, sir? So, we ol' regular boys are here to at least stabilize the body, while Vestal here, fixes them up, and gives a verbal beatdown." The man chuckled, but it immediately died once he caught a glimpse of Vestal's all-too-sweet smile. The captain couldn't help but sympathize with the man. Despite her small stature, she possessed an aura that could instill the fear of God into any man. Although he's dealt with enough doctors to learn to not give a damn about what they thought.
"Uh… huh, I can see that," Levesque said, as he took another puff, and took a cautionary step away from the small, scary nun, just to be safe. "What are you doing here Nashville?"
"Morale support," she said simply with a smile on her face. "Oh, and to get some experience with the boys. I wasn't much of a fighter during the war, so I figured I could be of more use in the support department. Ya'know, combat and field medic n' all that." Levesque quirked a brow but didn't say anything about it. "How long have they been going at it, eh and do you boys fix their rigging too?"
"They've been fighting for almost twenty minutes, Captain," Ulrich said.
"So, there's no time limit?"
"We stop them when either we tell them to, or when there's a near kill or a yield."
"As for the rigging, we work on that." Nashville interjected, "we take care of our own rigging; we take them over to the motor pool to get them patched up. Though there are times when they need more than a little bufferin'. I hate admittin' it, but the Ironbloods really know how to fix up some rigging. Hipper is the best on base! Oh, and a couple of Bulin and marines from the engineer and mechanical detachments too. Only the best gets to touch our rigging!" She stated proudly.
"Don't forget that damn Jew-cat." The other medic added with a grumble.
"I'm sorry, a Jew… what?" Levesque asked as his brows furrowed.
"Sorry, Akashi, sir." The lead medic explained, "she's the Japs resident mechanic. She's one of them, kansen - I believe that's what they call themselves anyway. She knows more about rigging and how they work than anyone else here on base, and she's well… the resident 'mad scientist.' Always cooking up something that will either help us out or blow up in our faces. And as the private so eloquently put it…" He shot the man a stare before he continued, "she's also in charge of the base's more… lucrative establishments. Charges nearly double what they would be back home. The boys are just miffed that their smoke and drink cost a little extra, sir." The lead medic chuckled lightly, which then quickly turned into a dark mumble. "Fifty cents a damn pack…" Levesque really hoped that price was an exaggeration. He gingerly patted the pack that he had in his breast pocket, as he promised himself, he'd ration what was left. He shook his head gravely at the thought and brought his full attention toward the fight that was out on the water.
Colorado let out a deep breath as she collected herself. She could feel the fire behind her, heat the back of her neck. Kaga had been relentless when it came to her attacks. Even though Colorado had turned several of her aircraft into proper heaps of scrap metal, there were too many for her to deal with on her own. She silently wished Taihou would just grow up, move on, and start acting more like a soldier than a pouting child. But instead, she just had to get stuck with fighting the she-fox with a chip on her shoulder.
Sometimes the Fates were too cruel.
She could hear her aircraft too, they buzzed around her and waited for the order to strike. She panted as she tried to figure out a way to end the battle, sure she could take a beating as any respectable super-dreadnought could, but she could feel that she wouldn't last much longer. As she delved into her mind for some sort of strategy that she could use against a distance fighter, she picked up several more contacts on her radar.
Colorado twitched her eyes toward the beach and noticed that both Belfast and Z23 had joined in observing the fight. Though it was the man in black and white that caught her interest; Captain Levesque had been there as well. She cursed behind her collar at the revelation. She knew that she had taken the brunt of the damage, and he could see it as well. What was he thinking? Would he think that she was less valuable if he saw her be defeated? Would he see that carriers were simply a better choice to use than her? She knew that she looked far worse than Kaga when it came to the damage dealt. Fear gripped her heart as a fresh sheen of sweat glistened on her skin. She was a super-dreadnought, who was obviously at a loss, compared to the carrier. Even though Kaga was also an older carrier, her lack of damage spoke volumes. Colorado grimaced as he stared back toward Kaga. She couldn't allow herself to be put aside in favour of the carrier. She was a proud and powerful warship; she was still useful; she was not obsolete! It was one thing to lose in front of her peers, but now her commander was there to witness her. She refused to let Levesque see that she was less useful than Kaga. Soon a plan began to formulate within her mind. Was it reckless? Yes. Dangerous? Also, yes. Would she get a verbal beatdown from Vestal on whether the plan worked or not? Oh, absolutely. But what was life without taking risks? To have the thrill and adrenaline rush of an attack the opponent wouldn't anticipate and the look of surprise plastered on their face. A small smirk slowly creased behind Colorado's collar, as she slowly pushed herself toward Kaga. She would prove to Levesque that battleships still had a place in the naval area of war. The age of battleships may be in its twilight years, but it wasn't over yet!
Kaga watched her curiously. Throughout the entire spar - if she could call the one-sided dispute a 'spar' - the super-dreadnought kept her distance. The Unionist tried to use her superior firepower at a distance to strike at her. Which she thought was fool-hardy at best, but Colorado had proved that she could get close to a hit at her range. Even though she lacked the firepower of the super-dreadnought, Kaga had every other advantage; most importantly, she had eyes in the sky as well as a more versatile arsenal. Despite the fact that Kaga rained down heavy calibre fire and explosive ordnance on top of her, Colorado refused to yield and took the punishment like a true warrior. Kaga would begrudgingly admit, the super-dreadnought was a stubborn and honourable foe.
A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead, as she recalled a squadron of her Val's back to her to re-arm. It would've been easier to summon and use her aircraft from her vessel, but they were using their rigging to save on the base's oil reserves. Unlike the kansen, the ships themselves still needed the physical maintenance and materials needed for their respective weapons of war. It was easier to manifest and took less of a toll on their bodies when the material was already there to use. Without their hull, however, Kaga was forced to use her own energy reserves to conjure and create her aircraft as well as the ammunition and fuel needed. Even though she was proud of how strong she was, and how far she could last without her vessel, her energy wasn't limitless.
Kaga watched as her Val's lost their ethereal form and melded back into her flaming rigging. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed that her opponent started to pick up the pace. She wondered what Colorado was planning on; what caused her boilers to get fired up all of a sudden? The Unionist had been perfectly content with trading blows at a distance until now. Colorado had done an amicable job at multitasking herself - firing her main batteries at her while she swatted away Kaga's aircraft. Though it didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things; Kaga dictated how the battle would go regardless. It was then that she also picked up new contacts along the shoreline. Her sapphire blues turned toward the shoreline. She spotted the royal maid as well as the young Ironblood destroyer. She found their arrival curious, to say the least, but it was then, she saw him.
The Shikikan was with the shore party, and his eyes scanned over the two of them. She wasn't aware that he would be there to watch. Was it a surprise inspection, or was he merely curious as to what the kansen were capable of? A small, feral grin slowly creased her face as she turned back toward Colorado. So, the Unionist wanted to send a message? That was okay, two could play at that game.
The super-dreadnought slowly picked up speed and didn't stop as she fired salvos from her operational turrets. Kaga swiftly dodged as the shells careened around her. Geysers of seawater doused her, while it evaporated violently upon contact with her rigging. Kaga stared down the warship as she bared her vulpine teeth toward Colorado. With a harsh wave of her hand, she unleashed her Val's and Zero's toward the Unionist kansen.
Colorado felt her boilers heat up as she slowly trucked her way toward her opponent. She knew she was more akin to a train than a destroyer-like sports car. While a destroyer comparatively was: smaller, lighter, faster, and nimbler; she was slower, and took longer to pick up on momentum. It made her an easier target to hit, and it was harder for her to dodge. While on the other hand, she could take and dish out more punishment than any destroyer could ever dream of handling. Just like a train, once she reached a certain speed, there was nothing that could slow her down. Not only that, thanks to her size; she could hit like a train as well.
She winced and growled behind her collar, as she tried to ignore the 20mm cannons that peppered against her rigging. She used the armour plating of her bow portions of her rigging to deflect the incoming fire as she forced her way forward. They felt like hot needles that pricked at her skin. Sure, she could shrug off the vast majority of the pain and projectiles, but there were the lucky few that nicked something important. Colorado did her best to deflect the splinters that smacked against her, as the rounds exploded on her deck. The Zeros' fire ricocheted off the armoured plating while she fired her turrets in retaliation. The sky filled with black puffs of flack, as she blind-fired into the air. Colorado allowed herself to grin in satisfaction when she heard the recognizable whine of careening aircraft and the thunderous crash of them impacting the water. The pain became the fuel she needed to surge forward.
Kaga's eyes widened then quickly narrowed when she realized what Colorado was aiming to do. She never suspected Colorado of all kansen to charge at her opponent like a raging bull. Though she figured it would've been inevitable that she would change tactics once she realized she couldn't hit her. She also suspected the sudden appearance of the Shikikan was also a contributing factor. Kaga watched Colorado and sneered.
If Colorado wanted to play that game, Kaga was more than happy to oblige. She knew exactly how to finish off the obsolete woman.
She needed to end this engagement as swiftly as possible. Kaga ordered several squadrons of Zeros to regroup, and dive for a direct intercept course toward the kansen. Colorado was smaller than her vessel, but that didn't matter to Kaga. She would strike her down as she did to countless of her other kin during the war. The tactic was useful and she had used it time, and again after she was brought back from her humiliating defeat at Midway. That particular thought made the kitsune snarl, and the flames of her rigging flared intensely. Her tails crashed and swatted at the air violently as she bared her teeth to her opponent again. It was time to end this, and show the obsolete girl that she was a product of a bygone era!
Colorado's ruby eyes stared Kaga down as she noticed that her aircraft had increased their strafing runs. The Val's became reckless in their attacks as they dropped their payloads. A couple managed to hit her deck and caused explosions around her. One lucky plane dropped its bomb on top of her already damaged turret. She felt the top blow a hole and black smoke rose from the orifice. The Zero's, on the other hand, was making maneuvers that she was more than familiar with. Realization struck her, as flashbacks of the war resurfaced. The screams of her crew and alarms blared within her skull. She nearly froze in panic as she watched a squadron of Zeros barrelled toward her. She wanted to dodge and swerve away, but they were too close for any split-second maneuvers. Colorado took a deep breath as she used her aft turrets to strike at the craft, while her forward guns fired at Kaga. Several planes rushed to stop Colorado to protect their master. One of the kamikazes struck home as she raised her bow plating to protect her vitals, only to bite back a cry as she felt the scorching hot impact and the cherry-red colouration of her steel. It felt like getting stabbed with a heated iron prod.
Didn't matter whether it was on her ship or with her rigging, kamikazes hurt like a bitch!
The super-dreadnought fired at them point blank. One of the would-be kamikazes disintegrated mid-flight, as she swiftly jumped out of the way of another while it crashed into the ocean. Great geysers of water drenched Colorado and caused her superheated plating to flash-cool, but she ignored it with a harsh bite of her tongue. The seawater stung at her wounds, but she was stronger than that. She could take the punishment. She fired her forward guns again, and she watched Kaga dodge the incoming projectiles with graceful ease. A low growl escaped her lips, as she fired again and again. If her plan worked then all her pain would be worth it.
The carrier grimaced as she watched her aircraft either get blown apart by Colorado's anti-air, or they missed their target as she dodged and maneuvered so they nearly missed. What few planes managed to strike Colorado, only seemed to push her harder. Kaga growled as her opponent became uncomfortably close. She did what she could to dodge and weave, around the towers of water that slowly moved closer and closer to her. Eventually, she felt herself get boxed in as shells rained around her. She could tell Colorado was close, as Kaga had to cover her face when a geyser erupted uncomfortably close to her. She called upon the mystical element of her rigging and her very nature forth. The kitsune felt a familiar, powerful sensation swell within her very core, as her cubes answered her call. She could feel her nails extend and harden into proper claws, while ethereal blue fire engulfed her clenched fists.
Kaga retaliated as she unleashed several balls of blue fire toward Colorado. Some landed harmlessly around the super-dreadnought, only to have pillars to steam spawn where the flames were. Colorado reared back as she tried to deflect the super-heated water, but refused to slow down. Kaga shook her head in disappointment. She knew that she couldn't beat a super-dreadnought in a prolonged melee. The carrier needed to do what a carrier was always meant to do; initiate the first strike. And unlike like some people she knew, she learned from her mistakes. The mere thought of Akagi only added metaphorical fuel to her literal fire.
The kitsune could see the crimson eyes of her opponent who screamed for bloody murder. She brought her hand to her mouth; her thumb and index made a circle while her other digits splayed out. She took in a deep breath and unleashed an arching torrent of blue fire toward Colorado.
The Unionist shipgirl, forced herself to stop as the flames engulfed her. She shielded her eyes, as the intense heat prickled at her skin, and the moisture on her rigging evaporated violently. What surprised Colorado was that she didn't feel the excruciating effects of Kaga's fire. But what caught her attention, however, was the sudden increase of moisture in her immediate surroundings. She grimaced as she took stock of the situation, only to curse as she was surrounded by a thick layer of fog.
"Come out and fight me, you damned coward!" Colorado bellowed her challenge toward the fog. She was far more composed than this, but the fight had strained her patience to her limit. She frantically scanned the area for any sign of the she-fox.
Seconds ticked by, as she pivoted around. Her radar was damaged, and she was - for all intents and purposes - blind thanks to the fog. Then her ears perked up with the unmistakable sound of the Mitsubishi engines coming in from her six. She swivelled toward the source and fired her anti-air in hopes that she could blind fire and score at her targets. Just as she unloaded a magazine of her ammunition, the sounds disappeared, but there was no sound of an explosion or crash. Colorado tried to control her breath and focus and forced herself to listen for anything. Once again, she heard the sound of Zeros, this time at ten o'clock. She fired more rounds into the fog-laden air but didn't hear or see any signs of impact.
Colorado's breath began to hitch as her nerves began to fry. No! This isn't how it was supposed to happen! Her eyes snapped towards movement on the water at two o'clock. She fired a full salvo at the vague shape. She saw the large pillars of water, but there was nothing there. She prayed for any confirmation but received none. The isolation, the blindness, and the uncertainty, all weighed on her heart, which now beat like a rapid war drum. She screamed out in a mix of desperation and frustration. "Fight me! Fight me now, you damned fox! All your talk of strength and honour and this is what you do!?" She panted as the seconds once again ticked by, and was answered with silence.
Then she picked up the sounds again. The engines of aircraft roared around her. First at her six, then two o'clock, then at eight o'clock, until they surrounded her. The super-dreadnought began to blind fire into the fog in hopes of a lucky hit. Only to see a figure rapidly approach through a pillar of water of her own creation. The next thing she heard was a serine, "as you wish." Then her world exploded as a flaming fist impacted against her face.
Levesque didn't know what to make of the situation that he had witnessed. For what Colorado had attempted to do was - for a lack of better words - ballsy. The carrier would've eventually won in a war of attrition; any aircraft could outpace a battleship. So, she pushed into close-quarter combat. Use her plethora of guns to turn Kaga into metaphorical Swiss cheese, by making each salvo more accurate than the last, the closer she got. Kaga, on the other hand, was a natural distance fighter. He hadn't seen her with any armaments to her rigging, so he assumed she would've been a sitting duck when it came to a round of fisty-cuffs. However, it seemed that Kaga had control over more than merely her planes. His eyes widened with open awe as he saw her unleash her fire onto the battlefield. To use it to create an impromptu smokescreen that surrounded her opponent was sheer genius!
Eventually, the screams of challenges that came out of Colorado, were answered by the sound of plane engines. He noticed that Kaga kept a couple of squadrons in the air when she attempted to kamikaze Colorado. Levesque watched as they circled around the fog, only to turn away in different directions. Shortly after was the rapid fire of heavy ordnance and the vague geysers that erupted within the fog. She missed every one of Kaga's planes. Then came the tense silence which caused a weight to drop in his gut. He looked toward his two companions and he could also see the concern in their eyes. Before he could say anything, he saw rapid flashes of blue dance around what he assumed was the figure of Colorado. Shortly after the booming sounds of heavy guns erupted, followed by rapid splashes.
Levesque couldn't help but watch the scene in awe, as silhouettes flashed suddenly within the fog. It was like watching shadow puppets in a thunderstorm. The flashes of barrels and flames allowed only the briefest of captured movements. It was magnificent. Levesque took another drag from his smoke. "I've seen enough," he stated, "call it off, and bring them here." Ulrich looked at him but didn't say anything as she was engulfed in a sea of blue light. Once it faded, Captain Levesque nearly jumped in shock.
What he saw could only have been described as two serpent-like mechanical hellspawn. They floated in the air and were made of sharp, jagged metal, crimson-red, and matte-grey. Their eyes were shallow slits, but they managed to glow with hellish fire. When their predatory maws opened, they showed off, what he could only describe as an amalgamation of a smelters furnace and boiler engine. The captain could feel the heat emanate off of them, and it brought back unwanted memories from the cold Atlantic. One looked more reminiscent of a snake, as it slithered around near the ground, as Ulrich sat upon its bow-like head like a bastardized throne. While the other resembled more like a rather pissed-off tadpole with a shark's head. It was smaller than the other beast but it possessed two duel-barreled turrets that looked like the armaments from the Bismarck.
Ulrich on the other hand seemed to have spouted what looked like bat-like wings from her lower back as well. The spines that held the black and red leather-like membrane were mechanical in nature. Elegant and rather smooth, compared to the more jagged creatures that made up her rigging. She glided along the water, as he turned his attention toward Belfast and Z23. "Help her," he ordered.
Belfast bowed graciously as she activated her rigging and glided out into the water. Z23 followed shortly after.
Her rigging was something that was just as strange as it was fascinating to Leveque. Z23 seemed to have the traditional boiler stack on her back, but her main armament looked like it was straight out of pulp fiction. Her left arm was inside what he could describe as a long rectangular barrel with segmented armour along it. It had an open-mawed shark head in the front, which housed her duel-barreled 15cm turret. While her left arm was buried within the confines of her rigging, he spotted a handle on the starboard side of the large weapon, for her other hand. There was also an armoured belt around her hips, with support arms that were attached to her main weapon.
Levesque watched as the trio rushed out toward the two combatants, while the medics along with Nashville and Vestal pulled the equipment out of the medical truck. He took another drag of his cigarette and sighed.
Kaga panted heavily as she tried to watch Colorado with her one good eye. While she may have been able to strike first and deliver some devastating blows toward the super-dreadnought, that didn't stop her opponent from dishing out just as harsh punishment. The kitsune felt her eye sting as it was swollen shut, while she spat a wad of blood onto the water below them. She winced as she felt her limp left arm sway uselessly. Colorado's collar was scorched and revealed her full face to the world. One of her eyes was blackened and blood dripped from the fresh scars along her brow and cheek. While Kaga had a hardy collection of bruises, Colorado looked like she had lost a battle to a rather pissed-off cat. Her body was marred with bleeding cuts along her body. Said super-dreadnought trying to wipe off the blood that poured from her shattered nose. She too was panting heavily and favoured her left leg. Her rigging was a collection of destroyed parts, and her body resembled a white canvas that was covered in red and black, yet she refused to relent. Kaga had no choice but to respect the obsolete woman in that regard.
The carrier tried to control her breathing but was forced to make shallow breaths. Anything deep caused pain to flare up from under her left breast. The Unionist managed to score a heavy hit at one of the scarred portions of her body. Kaga swore that one or two of her ribs were cracked at the very least. She bit down a hiss as she stared back toward Colorado and the flames that surrounded her clawed fists; she needed to end this.
Before she could, however, a large mechanical serpentine shark appeared between both parties with Ulrich on its head. The mechanical beast let out an equivalent of a warning growl, as Ulrich stared down at the two wounded women. "The captain has ordered you both to stand down," she stated coolly, "the spar is over." Before either the super-dreadnought or the carrier could respond, both Belfast and Z23 joined the fray. Each flanked one of the women.
"What!?" Colorado called out almost desperately as she starred daggers between the Ironblood and Sakuran girl. "That's bullshit I can still win this!" She was so close to winning, even if her rigging was nothing more than glorified dead weight, she could outpunch the she-fox. She couldn't lose to her, she couldn't!
"Miss Colorado, please," Belfast insisted, "these are Master's orders. You and Miss Kaga fought wonderfully, there is no need to further damage yourself. This was meant to be a spar after all; not a battle to the death." She gave each girl a once over and she would admit that Colorado would need medical attention first and foremost. Belfast was amazed at how much punishment the super-dreadnought had taken and still stand on her own. Even if barely.
Colorado looked at the light cruiser with a mix of disdain and hurt. Why couldn't she understand that she needed to prove herself? She couldn't be outdone by the Sakuran she-fox, she couldn't be shown to be less than her, and she couldn't be seen as less than useful. It was just like before the war, when all the Admirals looked at carriers as the future, while she and her sisters were looked at despondently. She refused to be scrapped! She couldn't!
Kaga nodded slowly as she dipped her head in a bow. If this was the Shikikan's wish then she wouldn't argue. She had proven her strength to him, and she had shown her opponent she had much to learn. Kaga looked toward Colorado, as she spat out another wad of blood. "I will say, it was an… entertaining little spar." She said coolly and gracefully as her flames diminished, "the Union makes their kansen rather sturdy; a vessel or not. Even someone as obsolete as yourself can still stand after the rather… harsh brawl. You should be honoured."
"The fuck did you just call me…" Colorado's voice was barely above a whisper, but her eyes dared Kaga to say it again. Belfast looked toward her Unionist compatriot with caution as she slowly moved behind Colorado, while she kept eye contact with Ulrich. The Ironblood H-class understood the unspoken communication, then turned her attention to Kaga, who had Z23 by her side to intercept just in case.
"I said you are an obsolete vessel, Colorado-san," Kaga repeated.
The super-dreadnought let out a cry as she lunged forward. Only to be abruptly held back, as Belfast wrapped her arms under Colorado's armpits and locked them there, while one of Ulrich's beasts stopped in front of her, and emitted a warning growl. Colorado struggled to break free, but Belfast's hold was steadfast and refused to budge. No. Now she couldn't even fight back against a light cruiser! She tried to fight back, she tried to kick at Belfast's legs but that only her bad leg to flare up in pain. She attempted to strike the maid with her elbows, but Belfast had her arms at awkward angles that made it hard to do anything. She struggled to see through the tears that welled up in her eyes, as mighty Colorado finally collapsed on the water on her good leg.
Kaga sighed as she watched the pathetic sight, then turned her attention toward Z23, "go help Colorado-san, please, little one." Z23 looked toward the kitsune, then to the broken woman that Belfast was assisting back up who was futilely trying to push her away. With a small nod, the destroyer moved in to offer the light cruiser her strength as they brought Colorado to shore. Kaga and Ulrich followed shortly after in silence.
Levesque waited with bated breath, only for his heart to sink as he witnessed the sorry states of both girls. Once Colorado's heels touched the beach, her rigging dissipated in a flash of blue light. She would've collapsed onto the ground if it wasn't for the support of Belfast and Z23. The medical team quickly rushed in and brought her into their care. The captain moved in and watched as Colorado was placed on a seat where the medics began to clean her up, while Nashville gave her some sort of light blue liquid that the American girl sipped through a straw.
Both Belfast and Z23 returned to the captain, as Ulrich and Kaga returned to the shore. Their rigging also dissipated. Levesque moved in to catch Kaga as she looked like she was about to topple over, but he stopped when she made the gesture to do so. She gritted her teeth and seethed as she clutched at her side, but she refused to let the pain put her down. "I am fine Shikikan," she said with a laboured breath and gritted teeth. He wanted to protest and say she looked far from fine, but he respected her wishes. She gave a small nod in thanks, as she walked over to the medics, and grabbed one of those light blue drinks.
Captain Levesque watched the scene unfold around him as he snuffed out his finished cigarette with the sole of his shoe. As much as he wanted to give the girls time to rest, he had a job to do.
He walked toward Colorado as she was giving gauze and bandaging for her wounds. She still nursed the strange drink, but Levesque made no comment on it. He asked for a seat as well as one for Kaga. If she didn't take it, that was her prerogative, but the option was hers to take. Colorado was quiet, and she refused to look the captain in the eye. Levesque sighed as he slipped a fresh cigarette between his lips and lit it. He ignored the killer intent that emanated from Vestal, as the seconds dragged on, he said, "you did a phenomenal job."
Colorado didn't make any comment, and he took another puff, "I've never seen anything quite like it personally, eh. I've never seen such power, aside from the Sirens themselves… I'm at a loss for words. You should be proud of yourself." He said as he did his best to lift her spirits. It was always hard to see a disheartened or defeated sailor. To be out and away from home for months on end; always worried that a U-boat would get lucky on deployment, or have to deal with extraterrestrial hellspawn. It was important to keep morale up. But to see a woman look so defeated, pulled extra hard on the veteran's heartstrings. "Colorado…" he began but sighed as he took another puff, "Colorado are you listening to me?" He was answered by a slow nod. "Then look at me, sailor." He said sternly, and after a few moments, her red eyes met grey.
"You took one hell of a beating, and I don't know if this is normal for you girls or not. But you should be damn proud of yourself." She looked like she wanted to say something, that she didn't feel proud, but she kept her mouth shut on the matter. Levesque let out another sigh but nodded. "I guess I must be missing something here. But that's beside the point; If you're having a problem and you want to speak about it privately, then please come talk to me afterwards. Or I'll come to find you afterwards eh." She nodded gratefully, and he gave her a small smile. "Good, but that's not what I'm here for. I came to find you for this…" He said as he pulled out his notebook and pen.
"Why do you need me for that, sir?" Colorado asked.
"Captain, is this really the most appropriate time?" Vestal asked with a frown.
Levesque took a drag and blew it out through his nostrils in frustration, "to answer the first question: you were there at Pearl Harbour, you were there where most of the girls that went missing. Any and all information about them is relevant to me. And secondly, I am aware that she's banged up right now, but unfortunately, I'm on a timer." He turned to address Vestal, "the longer I wait to get anything done, the more time he has to hide and do whatever-the-hell he's doing out there. And I'll be talking with other girls as well so don't worry." He said as he turned back to Colorado, "right now I'm building a profile of the girls. Hopefully, I can understand their motivations, and find a way to convince them to come back when we find them. Assuming they weren't actually Shanghaied. Not only that, I need to know what I'm dealing with. Maybe there's a pattern with these girls that can help me in the long run." He drew another puff as he caught the curious looks from the others around him. He saw the flashes of hope in their eyes, especially Colorado, who showed him the same desperate hope she showed him when they first met.
"I have the who, the what, and the when," he stated as he numbered them off with his fingers, "I maybe have the how, but I still need the where, and why. That's where you girls come in. I need to understand why they left. Why did they feel that he was some sort of solution? I know it's not a lot, and it may not get them all back, but I'm not a professional detective or investigator, and I'm doing the best I can with what I know. And at this point, every scrap of information is worth its weight in gold to me, eh" He gave her a kind smile, "so will you help me, Colorado?" He opened his notebook and looked at her expectantly.
The super-dreadnought looked at him for several moments. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to refuse, to claim that she didn't deserve to be of help. That he was better off asking Washington or New Orleans. She was an old beaten woman who was meant for the scrapyard or mothball fleet. Yet he looked at her with those grey eyes that held no shame or disappointment. But a lump formed in her throat, when she realized that he wanted to ask her. It was a warm feeling to be wanted; to feel useful. Even if he saw that she was of no use as a warrior, thanks to Kaga.
The thought of her brought an acrid taste to her mouth. She turned her attention to said woman. Kaga was sitting on the chair that Levesque had provided for her. Colorado watched with silent satisfaction as Kaga attempted to bite back a cry as Nashville relocated her left arm to her shoulder. A sling shortly was wrapped around it. Then she looked back toward Levesque. If she wouldn't be deemed useful for sorties, then the least she could do was be the wealth of information that her captain needed. To bring them all back. To get her sister back.
She took another sip of Akashi's special coolant and took a deep, but pained breath. Colorado nodded slowly as she gave the man a small smile. Colorado took a deep breath and began to tell Captain Levesque everything she knew about the girls she knew.
