It's been said that the most total victory was one that didn't have to be fought for in the first place. Convincing the enemy to surrender through sheer presence or changing them to suddenly feel that there is no other option is almost an art form. Despite my previous idea of changing to a more informal location wouldn't work in this particular case. I would need to practically ooze willpower, confidence, professionalism, and personal strength. My command would have to be unquestionable. Therefore, I returned to my office, yet changed nothing. The room was as it always had been. Even the trio of bobbleheads on my desk and the autographed rock concert poster on the western wall remained. My office was an extension of myself, and it was the highest authority on this island. The coffee was brewed and I was as ready as I would ever be.

Then, a challenger approached. At first, it was just a feeling, like a pressure in the back of my mind. Soon after, I heard the sound of heavy boots on the floor. The door rapidly opened and sent a wave of air into the room. All of the carefully-set paperweights around my desk prevented any messes. My first victory in a series of very intense battles.

Bismarck was somewhat similar to Enterprise in outward appearance and physique. That is, if their photographs were merely compared. Bismarck had a little height and bulk on Enterprise, especially after the whole Iron Blood "secession" business. She had a practically valkyrian figure, blasting into any space representing all honorable warriors, but also barely making it through the door frame without having to duck. I found myself humming Ride of the Valkyries under my breath. Again, all of this would be if she was observed from a picture.

Her presence reminded all around that she was never alone. Unlike Enterprise, who channeled more of the ideals of her nation, Bismarck channeled the will of her people, or the "folk" as they called themselves. All of Iron Blood watched critically through those constantly-scanning blue eyes. She had the aura of some judgemental deity or avatar who wouldn't hesitate to cut down the weak or unworthy, and could do so effortlessly with her arms as big as steers and thighs as big as trees. Wait, those weren't the lyrics. The pressure was nauseating. She confidently walked across the room in two strides and sat down in the padded chair in front of the desk. The contents thereof visibly shook.

Now, we sat in silence for what felt like was an eternity. I sipped my drink and pretended to look through some paper. Fortunately, I came across one piece of material that reminded me of a possible and very powerful piece of ammunition here, if I played my cards right. Eventually, I broke the silence.

"I appreciate you coming, and… fifteen minutes early. Good thinking to head out early in case of delays. They're doing construction over by the library and traffic's a bit backed up."

She responded in an authoritative tone, "I am never late. I arrive when I mean to."

I continued, "I feel like somebody's said that before. Still, thank you very much for coming when I called."

"I did not come because of any summons. I caught wind of some kind of new program the brass have decided to roll out. I usually find them mildly amusing and curious. The fact that your call coincided with when I was going to inquire is just that… coincidence."

"If you want to be that way, fine. However you want to word it to yourself is your business. You're here now, and that's what matters."

"The only perspective that matters is the one of the person in command or simply the one that can enforce it upon others. Arguing over it is like running around in circles, convincing yourself you are not."

A very unintentionally passive-aggressive comment escaped out of my mouth. "Oh, I'm sure you know all about that."

Bismarck processed this for a few seconds, then narrowed her eyes and put her fist on the table. "Care to elaborate?"

Sweating bullets, I shrugged and guessed it was better to keep going than back off. "In a word, swordfish. I'm sure you're aware why we also performed some stern reinforcement alongside some fire control and boiler upgrades in your retrofit after we… found you and convinced you to join our happy little port. I swear, that editorial comic one of the manjuus drew of you being led with an oil barrel on a stick was pretty memorable."

The previously tolerable background presence cranked all the way to maximum. Background doubts became a hundred parade ground voices screaming at me on how I was questioning the absolute. But, I wouldn't break. I couldn't break. She may have me by a few hundred millimeters compared to the pathetic little officer-issue sidearm I kept in my desk, but the battle of wills in an even field, and I couldn't afford to lose.

She leaned forward, the ancient wood chair creaking under her. The light around her dimmed in a sort of negative aura. "Behind all of that technical wording, I'm sensing some mixed messages coming from you. Those are some very strong words for a pathetic little man such as yourself."

"Woah, there's no need for such personal insults, especially here. I suppose yes, compared to literal warships, one man certainly isn't much to look at. But look, we're here to find similarities, establish relationships, and compare interests, all in the name of diplomacy."

In a blur of motion, she had a spear with the Iron Blood flag in her and an obnoxiously large cannon appeared coming out of her side. As I stared down the barrel, I could hear a cacophony of voices in my head, all cackling about my imminent demise. Death itself as a concept chuckled inside the barrel, urging me to come closer. Bismarck barked, "I find no similarities, I have no desire for relationships other than subordination, I do not desire dig around looking for interests, and diplomacy is merely a unnecessarily complicated way of the weak wriggling their way out of truly testing their skills."

I raised a single finger and said, "Oh, you win battles. You've got that going for you. However, there's been numerous people reporting (all anonymously, I may add) of some serious insubordination on your part. This is enough to get you a court marshall and then some in any other faction."

She mockingly chuckled. "Oh, but I'm not in any of those factions, am I Commander? I'm in some stupid 'coalition' or whatever you choose to call it."

"That was half true. You aren't in any of them. You are in mine. See, this island is neutral territory, same as an international airport. You may not have listened to briefings when you arrived here, and I hate to burst your bubble that you've managed to keep up your relationship with the Iron Blood government in exile all of this time, but you do not answer to them. You answer to me, and that changed when the occupied government spotted you raiding ports for fuel. I think this is a problem that hasn't been addressed as soon as it should have, and for that I apologize. We've simply gone with the ends justifying the means. We can't do that anymore."

"Then what are you saying? Choose your words very carefully."

"I'm saying that you are becoming more of an unnecessary logistical burden every day. Your presence is… admittedly very impressive and effective, but corrosive to other's sanity here, a precious commodity in this port. The only thing you have going for you is your killcount and barely understood technology inside you, but with the constantly shifting tactics of the Sirens, that may disappear any day."

"Do you want an example of 'might makes right'? How about I start with this room, then half the port. Maybe I will get bored after that."

"Except you would be annihilated as a bird in the middle of a hornet nest. I've heard the Hood has been really itching for a rematch, and Ark Royal would really enjoy that burst of nostalgia. You know she always uses swordfish torpedo bombers? She won't accept any others. Better cover your ass."

Her chair tipped over backwards and she spun around her spear, winding it up for a killing blow. "That is not my only weapon. Upon my honor, I cannot tolerate these insults any longer! Perhaps there needs to be a change in leadership."

I spoke as hastily as possible. "Before you do something dramatic, I have a question to ask of you."

"Ask. Let it be your final."

"Software or hardware?"

"What is this? Prepare your soul for…"

"Software or hardware? Your life might depend on it."

"...Software."

"All right. Back when we installed that high performance steering mechanism, you remember it also came with a small computer for the displays. Came from Iron Blood themselves, I believe. We added something, just a little aftermarket program we came across from those clever folks back in the Union."

"Added what?"

"A little worm, that's just sitting in that computer, listening. It's listening to your radio right now. If it receives a message that I've pushed a very specific button, or I am dead, it wakes up. Then it waits again."

She was silent.

"The worm waits for you to turn your engines to half speed. At that point, it will suddenly decide it wants to go as fast as possible. In fact, it will go past the safety limits of your engine and keep running it as hard as it can until something breaks. I don't know what the feeling is like to have your boiler explode, but as a human, I would compare it to a heart attack. Well, having a heart attack after being forced to run at a dead sprint until you get one."

She clutched her(admittedly ample) chest.

"You see, the Roon project officially took six months to complete. It actually took five, but she had some… issues in the early stages. Anger troubles, attempted murder, attempted rape, manslaughter, you know, the kind of stuff we still worry about now. See, she used to be a lot worse, and so we were forced to, quite literally, tear her apart and rebuild her to attempt to iron out those kinks. I don't think she remembered the process, but let's just say I wouldn't have a problem if she did. I'm honestly glad I only lost a pint of blood after that incident. However, after that I really had to start thinking about thinking a few steps ahead of the potential 'problem children' around this port."

The gun at her side and the spear in her hand twitched almost imperceptibly.

I leaned forward as composed as I could and said, "Believe me, I'm pretty scared right now. I don't want the contents of my skull sprayed all over the window behind me. I don't want to die. However, I'll let you know that if you kill me, there are some in this port that will not give you the release of death. Considering the amount of stalkers we have here, I can probably guess a few who are looking at us right now and just waiting for you to pull that trigger. We use the excess common mass-produced ships to enhance our more valuable ones. That is not a strict policy. I hope you catch my drift. Why don't you ask your sister Tirpitz what it feels like to be picked apart for parts for nine years? Now, with that being said, how about you put down that spear and power down your rigging before you do something you'll regret?"

I'd seen her effortlessly rally others beside her to a fanaticism, even those not in her original faction. She was the definition of power, and occasionally shot temporary black holes when her cube became unstable. Now, a single bead of sweat appeared on her eyebrow as her forehead furrowed in contemplation. She whispered "Mein gott."

I barked, "I wouldn't worry about that, because your gott is right here, and he's fresh out of patience. Mutually assured destruction. Your answer?"

The spear slowly retracted, as did the gun.

"Your new fire control comes with a safety switch. Use it."

Her face remained a neutral frown. The click was deafening.

I continued, "Now, I feel we got off on the wrong foot. Let's schedule for another time when cooler heads prevail. I'm feeling like we made good progress today, though. In the meantime, head over to the mess hall and grab yourself something to drink. It's on the house; Just tell Jamaica I sent you."

Her expression went from neutral to cordial. She righted the upended chair and replied, "I shall."

As she walked toward the door, I said, "Have an excellent day."

"You as well." The door shut far more calmly than it opened. I allowed my heart to continue beating and my head immediately dropped against the pile of papers.

Bismarck strode through the halls more ponderous than her usual pace. She was still deep in thought when she found herself in the canteen. Prinz Eugen was already there, sitting by herself and sipping on a cola. Jamaica sat half-asleep, but suddenly woke up when Bismark entered the room. After the situation was explained, Jamaica commented, "Here it is, and I have confirmed it untainted by any forces. May I say your aura is more powerful than ever?" Bismarck grunted in acknowledgement and sat down next to Eugen. Of course, the seat was too small. Everything for her was. Too-big Bismark couldn't find anything to fit her. She'd always pushed that in the back of her mind, but recent events had forced some self-reflection forward.

Eugen sipped her drink and asked, "Well? How'd it go, friend? You look a little more humble than usual."

Bismarck clutched her chest and said, "I've got a lot to think about."

Eugen giggled, "What? Did he give you a stern talking to? I gave it a fifty-fifty shot that he'd be a fine coating of guts on the wall in two minutes."

"Like I said, there's a lot to think about. A lot of new things. A lot of new emotions, too."

"Such as…?"

"You know you are the only one I would speak of this to, and this stays…"

"Yes, yes. Pinky promise and all that. I'm absolutely champing at the bit to hear of this new development. This is a new you I'm seeing."

"I'm looking back and I can't find any examples. This may be the first time I've been impressed, even… intimidated a little. For the first time, I think I've found somebody who just went prow to prow with me and… won."

Eugen looked around the empty mess hall and into her drink. "Did Akashi spike the drinks again? Because I feel I just heard you say-"

Bismarck was briefly surrounded by a black and red glow. Her face flushed and the light around her darkened. In a booming voice, she pounded the table with her fist and bellowed, "I know what I said!" Jamaica snapped out of her stupor at the bar and fell off of her stool out of view.

Silence again. Eugen broke it, saying "So, what do you want to do with this?"

"For starters, I will need some time to contemplate this. Who… who is currently working on secretary duty for the commander?"

Eugen's eyebrows could not have possibly risen higher. "Currently, Gneisenau, but her week is almost up. Why?"

"I wish to apply. Unfortunately, I do not know where and my written english is quite poor."

"I just got off exercising. It's just a few rooms down, actually. Give me a few minutes to finish this drink."

Bismarck looked at her bottle and said, "I will step outside for a minute and do some thinking alone. Finish this for me." She then got off the too-small seat in one fluid motion and made her way to the glass door. Eugen considered her empty bottle, grabbed the other one, wiped it off, and took a swig. She suddenly exhaled with a satisfied feeling. Today had been an eventful day, and things had taken an unexpectedly optimistic turn.