"Cleveland!"
The light cruiser spun around, befuddled. "W-what? What'd I do?"
"For starters, you failed to down any of the aircraft," Belfast dismissively point out.
Hearing this, Cleveland sulked. "N-not my fault they managed to dodge everything! I didn't expect Siren interceptors to be that good at flying!"
"That's because they weren't from the Sirens."
Everyone looked at Enterprise. A look of uncertainty and worry permeated her expression as she had watched the planes flee. It was a look that rarely ever graced the great warrior of the Azur Lane, veteran of many campaigns, and holder of many titles. It was the closest thing to fear that any could see from Enterprise.
Knowing this struck a proverbial thunderbolt on Cleveland. "You're… kidding, right?"
Belfast stepped forward, a grim look on her face. "Are you certain of this?"
"They were painted black, but their shape wasn't like anything the Siren's fielded," Enterprise explained. "Their wings were wrong, details were off. From the way they flew… there's no way they fly like that. They're mere tools for the Siren war machine, yet it was if some protective spirit was guiding these aircraft..."
As Enterprise turned to wander in her thoughts, her heart almost skipped.
"Unknown contacts at our 12 o' clock!"
"Got tally-ho on the contacts!"
Up ahead, across what was once vast distance, the enigmatic mist towered over them in a way not seen before. The skyline drowned in colossal white, which made the three unknown silhouettes stand out in contrast. Even lacking inherent radar and IFF systems, they there not difficult to spot.
Kestrel watched as three boxes outlined the contacts in neon-green. She could not see their faces, yet she could see something familiar about them. Something human and relatable. Something that the HUD quantized with sterile numbers and characters that tracked distance and affiliation, of which only displayed "UNKNOWN".
Even after having fought in the service of the Silver Star Federation, Kestrel always disliked that part about war.
"Confirmed. There's three of them," Buzzard corroborated.
"Well, what are they?" Vulture pressed impatiently. "Are they aliens? I wouldn't mind fighting aliens. We had the sky fall on peoples' heads, we have a weird mist come up out of nowhere, I think we're due for ETs."
"Wait..."
As they drew closer, the details cleared up. The contacts were given identities piecemeal that digital numbers couldn't reveal.
"... Are they…?"
… She couldn't believe it herself.
She had caught only minute glimpses of them before. She didn't believe her eyes back then, and she still couldn't believe them now.
Standing upright, on the carpet of blue yet without sinking. Dressed with traits of relatable identities. With faces that were unmistakable human.
"... Yo why does that one look like our 'ol sis Kestrel?"
"... Hey, is it just me or does she remind me of Enterprise?"
As Enterprise eyed the approaching figures, it astounded her that they were ships like themselves. As Cleveland quipped, the lead one reminded her of herself, but that was where similarities ended. She recognized no familiar faces nor the rigging they wore, with designs that spoke of no nation she knew of.
The ship on the left had long brown hair and spectacles with rigid frames, all orderly as her coat was. If Enterprise had to guess, whoever this ship was she was someone serious.
On the opposite side of her, Enterprise could tell this particular ship was the complete opposite, with boyish short hair and a cape fashioned out of the same uniform. The sight reminded Enterprise of her own sister.
Their lead ship, though similar enough in appearance for one to confuse for her at first glance, could not be any more different when Enterprise saw her eyes: eyes that, though having fought and won battles in the past, felt no victory in them.
Above their heads were warbirds. Unlike the ones encountered earlier, they now came in a wider variety though dull metal gray was but one color. Among them dotting the sky, the same four raven jets were seen leading the charge above their presumed owner.
A bead of sweat crept on Cleveland's brow as she recognized the black jets. "... Oh crap."
Enterprise shot a hand towards her fellow ships. "Hold your fire. Do not engage."
The guns lowered, but Belfast remained unconvinced. "Are you certain of this?"
Without moving an inch, Enterprise answered. "We need to show them we're not a threat. If we don't make any threatening moves, they shouldn't be willing to attack us."
Yet, as those words left her mouth, an unpleasant weight in her gut persisted.
"... But be ready if they do."
Buzzard studied the ships in front of them. Like them, they too wore combat rigging with startling similarities. The ship in the middle, whose long silver hair and flowing black unbuttoned coat hinted of experience and daring acumen against the ocean breeze, had a massive flight deck by her hip. A carrier, yet oddly without fineries such as point-defense weapons.
By her side was one with gold hair held into a long sidetail. The white capelet she wore barely disguised the brash colors of her clothes, an unsubtle mix of red, white, and blue. Her rigging was of different purpose, sporting multiple cannons. Too much firepower to be a destroyer, yet too few guns to be a battleship. Some sort of cruiser?
Likewise, the third ship on the other side of unknown carrier had similar armament, albeit held up on ornate platters. Tube-like arrays could be seen; was she the only one equipped with missiles? The stark white of her maid outfit drew her eyes (she did her best to avoid the conspicuous bust); that informed Buzzard enough of what role this ship played within whatever organization she served.
"Hey Kestrel," Vulture called. "Which one shot at your planes?"
Kestrel thought. Through her planes' eyes, she briefly remembered seeing one of them come forth before immediately coming under flak fire. Who was it? She glanced at the ships, trying to put the picture together. Then her eyes fell on the golden-haired ship.
Then it clicked. She had seen her before.
Kestrel turned to her sister. "It was the one on the left, the one wearing blue, red, and white. I recognize her back during -"
"Righto!" Before either of the two could react, Vulture sped ahead with her Eagles in tow. "Time to up my score!"
"Vulture! Wait!"
The carrier sped ahead into attack speed before her sisters' words reached her. From Vulture's perspective, she watched as the blonde-haired ship got closer and closer, the numbers ticking down at a faster rate. At last, the the once-green displays turned blood-red.
"Locked-on! You're mine!"
"... Hey, what is that?"
"GET DOWN!"
A gust of wind zipped past Enterprise as she tackled Cleveland aside, the projectile shrieking past.
"What the-?!"
Enterprise's mind raced. She had never seen a weapon like that used before, was it some kind of torpedo? A missile? Regardless of what it was, there was one thing she knew for damn sure: they were being fired upon.
This was an attack.
The enemy carrier - the one with short hair and coat-cape - now closed in. Overhead, the gray-hulled fighters immediately swooped in and fired missiles of their own, each smaller than the one she had launched herself.
Enterprise and Cleveland leapt to the side, the spot where they once stood erupting into explosions and showers of water. Cleveland leapt to her feet, temper flaring.
"Alright, you wanna play? Let's play!" Raising her guns in unison, Cleveland let loose a salvo of her own towards the sky. Tracers and flak filled the air, chasing after the jet planes. Though they swerved from side to side, some were not so fortunate as Cleveland's anti-air fire clipped the wings of some.
Another missile was launched, and Cleveland ducked aside. Even having cleared harm's way she felt the projectile graze her. An explosion choked her vision, and when it cleared she found the aggressor standing before her. Up close, Cleveland caught a better view of her foe: her ship rigging in two parts where two halves of a carrier flight deck could be seen. Miscellaneous apparatus accompanied her form but what piqued her interest were the apparent missile tubes and some kind of multi-barreled peashooter over her shoulder. The ship was a young girl like her, but with her boyish short hair and cape fashioned out of what should've been a uniform coat, Cleveland can take a short guess the kind of person her opponent is.
'Man, she really reminds me of Hornet,' she commented to herself. Then a cocky grin spread across her enemy's face.
'... Smiles just like me. Now I'm getting annoyed.'
A deep scowl etched on Buzzard's face.
"Vulture, you damn troublemaker," she grumbled under her breath. "Buzzard, engaging!"
Kestrel remained silent. This wasn't how she had hoped would happen. Unfamiliar ships, from who knows where, had suddenly appeared and the very first thing to happen was for everyone to fight. Not out of malice, conquest, or belief, but because of misunderstanding. She may not know who they are, but that didn't mean they were any different from them.
She looked down, with her heart sinking further. There was no other choice. "... Kestrel, engaging. I'll support Vulture."
Kestrel watched as Vulture duel the unknown blonde-haired ship. Both sides let loose with their respective armaments - missiles from Vulture, cannonfire from her opponent - and, funnily enough, traded just as much barbs in the process.
"Nice guns, kid!" Vulture teased. "Missiles too smart for you?"
"On the contrary, I like my fights fair!" her foe taunted back. Barely dodging yet another missile, the cruiser smiled as her turrets lined up, squarely aimed at Vulture.
"Gotcha!"
*Boom!*
The blonde winced at the unexpected explosion. Grimacing, she noticed that her ship turrets no longer obeyed her commands, forever stuck as a statue of ruptured metal and smoke. The roar of jet engines came by overhead and as she looked up, her eyes widened.
Kestrel's black Tomcats swooped past, their mission of silencing the cruiser's guns accomplished. Circling around, they reunited with their owner, her white peaked cap and hair an elegant contrast against the black coat she wore.
Before Cleveland could react, she felt an explosion punch her in the back before her world slipped to black.
"That's one down for the count," quipped Vulture. However, Kestrel said nothing, looking at the unconscious form of the mysterious cruiser.
But what time there was to celebrate or lament was cut short as the sharp sound of jet engines cut the air. Looking skyward, Vulture and Kestrel watched as F/A-18 Hornets zipped by, pursued by peculiar blue and white planes that buzzed the air droning propellor sounds. Below, Buzzard had her hands full dueling with the other two ships: the black-coated carrier and the white maid.
Buzzard grunted as she dodged yet another golden bolt. The unknown carrier had proven to be not so defenseless with that bow and arrow of hers. Worse still, she was more capable than she had at first anticipated, displaying astonishing agility to evade whatever attack Buzzard threw at her while firing back with those arrows of hers, often at close range. With her own complement of archaic propellor planes surprisingly holding their own, this carrier was certainly a battle-hardened veteran.
Same could be said for the maid-ship. Buzzard had correctly anticipated the firepower her gun turrets yet her tactics still had room for surprise. The frill dress she wore belied her swiftness, dodging what attacks she could while retaining grace. An interesting quirk Buzzard noted after a close shave was that this maid's missiles were unlike any she had seen, favoring to knife through the water in a barrage as opposed to streak through the air like a bolt from blue. Like the carrier, this ship was no stranger in navigating a fight, and more interestingly familiar with her partner with punctual and convenient attacks and movement.
'Time to tear out a new page.'
As her Hornets heckled the carrier and her air support, Buzzard swiftly turned away from her, charging towards the maid-ship. The decision was met with only an amused smile from her. "Do you prefer me as your dancer? Very well." She fired a shot towards Buzzard who answered with a shot of her own. In the ensuing explosion, Buzzard emerged from the smoke, only to see that her foe had unveiled her array of missile-like tubes in preparation.
"Help yourself to some of this!" The tubes fired, once again ejecting those strange missiles that fell short before darting towards her. Undeterred, Buzzard continued charging.
This time, she was prepared.
Amidst the battle, a distinct low buzzing sound erupted as a stream of yellow-orange light cut through the air, causing the water missiles to detonate one-by-one before they could even strike their target. A baffled look spread on the maid's face whereas a smirk spread on Buzzard's. With her point-defense weapon now belching smoke, she pressed the attack, launching another missile.
The missile swooped low as if to mimic her enemy's attack. Detecting the danger, the maid leapt up into the air where the water below erupted violently but harmlessly. However not even a moment could be spared for the water to settle as a flight of Hornets slashed through, their ordnance already hurtling towards her.
The maid, whoever she was, barely had time to curse her mishap before she fell back to earth, rigging and immaculate dress ruined.
"You were pretty good dodging my shots," Buzzard half-complimented. "But I never met anyone that could dodge while in midair."
She heard a shout. Turning, Buzzard met eyes with their carrier, an expression of pain etched across her face. She looked to the side where the other ship had just been defeated, courtesy of Vulture and Kestrel. In a flash, she drew her bow and let loose an arrow at Buzzard. Only instinctual reflex earned her a glancing hit. Immediately both Vulture and Kestrel leapt into action.
Eagles and Tomcats were launched into the air, followed shortly by the stranger's flight of prop aircraft. The planes clashed, missiles and bullets filling the skies with crisscrossing streaks. Every so often, they would be accompanied by the staccato of an exploding warbird or munition. Yet, before the air battle had begun in earnest was it evident that their remaining foe was losing.
Ignoring the battle above, the carrier threw herself towards Vulture and Kestrel. The two darted in opposite directions but their adversary swerved towards Vulture. Where there was once a face of distress was now supplanted by only one of fury.
Vulture narrowly dodged a golden arrow of her foe's. "Woah! Geez lady, you could at least ask me out first!" She attempted to line up a shot of her own, before her opponent darted to the side. Before Vulture knew, she was at her side.
The tomboy carrier tumbled about on the water's surface before coming to a stop and nursing her side. "... Ow," she winced.
"Kestrel, watch yourself! She is not to be underestimated!"
Kestrel already knew to take heed of her older sister's warning as the enemy carrier turned her sights on her. She evaded what attacks were thrown her way, but could accomplish nothing but to give ground to her adversary who had settled with all-out close range attacks.
She could see it in her eyes. Behind her gaze lay a fire she never expected from her. One that burned of battle, a testament of her prowess. The fire burned brightly, perhaps even more than ever before. It raged like an inferno, with the intensity of the battles that had forged this ship into a capable warrior. Like the furnace of an engine, drove her to her limits and beyond. Anger, desperation - the intent was one and the same.
The fire that, although it burned bright, also consumed her.
A missile zipped in front of the carrier, discouraging the next attempted blow against Kestrel. Vulture and Buzzard charged in, their respective air forces flying close behind. Gray-hulled jets ran wild in the skies above, their opposition conspicuously absent.
Seizing this advantage, they pressed their attack.
Battle was all she had known.
Though she had rights as a fellow human being, free to pursue her own whims and fancies, fighting remained her utmost duty. And she had made it her personal obligation to be among the best, to act as humanity's protector of the seas.
A glorified weapon. Deep down, she expected her fate to end in battle. It was less a matter of if, but when.
Yet, as much as she accepted such outcome, Enterprise was not prepared to die.
'... This can't be how it ends...'
Another projectile screamed past. She rolled to the side, only for an unexpected explosion to toss her back.
'... Not like this...'
More jets strafed by, turning the battleground into a hellish maze of missile fire. But with every evasion came a near-miss, with an occasional connected hit that battered her already-damaged rigging. She tried to draw her bow, but the onslaught forced her back into the vicious cycle of dodging.
'... Not like this...'
Her flight deck sputtered and winced. Her arsenal of planes had long run out. Her muscles burned as each attack ran her ragged.
'... Not like this!'
An explosion tossed her into the air before returning to earth in a painful impact, the calming waters now a cold unmoving surface. Enterprise winced in tired pain, but found herself no longer able to move. As much as her combat instincts shouted at her to keep fighting, she found her physical body no longer willing. It yearned to lay down and rest in spite of the danger she was in.
As if sensing her weakness, the attacks briefly paused. Struggling, Enterprise lifted her head. In her blurry vision, she saw the three carriers standing tall.
"We got her on the ropes. Finishing blow's all yours, sis!"
In the skies above, four black ravens circled above before swooping into a wide formation. Their sharp beaks seemingly spied on her like hungry birds of prey.
They were hurtling towards her, as if to pierce her very being.
Enterprise gritted her teeth, but her legs refused to stand. There was no escape for her now.
The planes flew closer; from the vestiges of her clear vision, Enterprise could see their missiles beneath their wings.
This was the end for her.
Enterprise watched as the planes descended. She could feel fear, but tried to remain stoic; she was not going to give her enemies the luxury of seeing her indignity of defeat. To decide how to meet her end was the least she could do right now.
The dark birds got closer. She waited for the inevitable final blow.
But it never came. Instead, the four ebon jets turned at the last second, flying above her head.
A ship slowly walked in Enterprise's view. Through her foggy vision, a figure in black approached her. Hesitant but at the same time curious, she walked up to Enterprise. The last thing she saw before her vision faded to nothingness was a face.
It was unlike something she'd seen before, or for a long time rather. It harbored no ill will, carried no malice or anger. It was the face of someone who was her enemy, yet it seemingly pitied her.
Sadness.
'... York… Is that...?'
Then Enterprise collapsed.
Kestrel watched as she fainted. Compared to previously, her face had a more serene look. Yet right before this unknown carrier collapsed into unconsciousness, Kestrel caught an odd expression from this ship, an expression that she wasn't certain of.
What was it?
She pondered quietly to herself as her sisters walked to her side. Though the two weren't completely spotless they were still in good health.
"You didn't bother with the finishing blow?" Vulture asked incredulously. "It was all lined up and everything."
"There was no need," Kestrel answered softly. She turned to look at the unconscious carrier, her black coat and rigging bearing unrecognizable emblems. If the circumstances had been different, she would've thought that this ship had simply popped onto the sea asleep. Seeing her peaceful expression made her wonder ever more what went inside her head.
"I saw it in her eyes: she fought for reasons not dissimilar to ours."
Buzzard merely gave a curt nod, more preoccupied with dusting herself off and scowling at the one hit she received, a more permanent stain on what was otherwise a facade of impeccability. "Buzzard to Andromeda, all hostiles neutralized. Area sanitized, no further contacts in the AO."
"That's good news," the intelligence ship replied, relief apparent in her voice. "Escort ships are en route to your location… So who were they?"
The three sisters all glanced at the unconscious ships, the very nature of their appearance coming to mind lingering questions. Questions whose answers they could not anticipate, maybe not even like hearing.
"... We'll find out soon enough."
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
HistoricHippos:
And this concludes the first three chapters that would act as a pilot for this new fanfic I've cooked up. This is something I had in mind for some time so I look forward to see how this grows and develops. I also look forward to how this crossover idea is received.