I would like to thank the people who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. But enough of that let's get on with the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Azur Lane or any other properties I make references to.

"We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of the infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far."

-Howard Phillips Lovecraft

Chapter 7: The Shadow Overhead

Even though they were in port both Nashville and Commander decided that it was best to maintain the routine that they had fallen into. They arose and started the day with morning exercise and for one of the first times that they sparred Commander was able to land a hit with his practice knife on the superhuman against him. Celebrations were swiftly cut short as with the next bout Nashville showed just how easy she was being on him and mopped the floor with him like usual. High horse blasted out from under him, Commander's pride was sunk but he couldn't be mad because of the difference in capabilities, and besides, him getting steadily better with Nashville meant that he would be fine against any thugs that they may come up against, which Commander felt would come up eventually. They finished the exercise and got ready for the day and went to the mess hall for breakfast.

As they sat with their food in the company of Nashville's sisters and Eldridge, who was quickly becoming one of Commander's favorite people they were approached by West Virginia. She had a code to be cracked.

Commander took a look and gave his assessment, "This is lengthier than any submarine or raider orders, so it's probably something to do with a larger operation. Intuition still tells me it should be a fairly easy break, but it'll take an hour or two instead of ten minutes. Can this wait until after breakfast?"

West Virginia narrowed her eyes and was about to accuse the stranger of laziness, but she stopped herself. Word had already reached her ears about how he had passed the famed, "Eldridge Experiment," and that apparently, he was quite talented in his own field. But now, she would have a test of her own, of his integrity. She tried to overcome her initial distaste for his request and made what she felt to be fair deal, "Very well, but Admiral Slade expects this on her desk as soon as possible, in fact, she orders it."

"Did she now?" probed back Commander. He suspected something. West Virginia seemed off as she said those last few words. He hands moved behind her back, she fixed him with a stare that could kill, and any normal movement that someone would have standing normally ceased. She was lying but to what end?

"Yes, she did," affirmed the battleship almost too eagerly.

"Okay then, I'll get right on it when I'm finished up here."

West Virginia nodded and left to sit down at another table without any other words. Still, as she was walking, he joked under his breath, "I think she likes me."

Despite her cessation of hostilities in his direction Honolulu still pursued a sort of passive aggressive policy with the officer and took this opportunity to say, "Oh stop flattering yourself, you'd get blasted to bits."

"Aaahhh. Is this you being concerned for my safety?" teased Commander to the read-head.

Over the time of their acquaintance and now friendship Commander could rely on Nashville to take light teasing well, in fact she would sometimes grace him with rebuttals that filled the bridge with laughter. And she teased him right back, usually with something that takes advantage of his lack of experience with women, much less attractive women. Helena was too kind of a soul to tease. But Honolulu…

Honolulu went a shade of red and a scowl conquered her face. She huffed, she puffed, and she blew out, "You idiot. Why should I even try to help you?"

Before something witty could come out Eldridge stepped in and said in her normal tired voice, "Commander…not an idiot," and she hugged one of the man's arms and sent a spark in Honolulu's direction.

This time Helena came to her sister's rescue and defused the situation. "Eldridge, you know that Honolulu didn't mean that. And everyone was just joking around. Right?" she said/asked as she looked toward the Commander.

"That's right. I was only messing around. It's all in good fun." Now, with any contention defused the group got back to their food. As they ate Commander thought on West Virginia's deception. He could reasonably expect that Admiral Slade would want him to hold up his end of the bargain but what raised the red flag was why West Virginia could save the breath and simply say that Slade ordered him, instead of saying, "want," and then, "order." He was still technically inferior in rank after all. West Virginia didn't strike him as the scheming type, so whatever she wants probably isn't too consequential. It's probably just another test for him. It made sense because if their roles were swapped, it's what he would do. He'd just lie more convincingly, or do it in writing.

The group got breakfast done and Commander gave orders to Nashville as they all stood to leave. "You can go on ahead and spend some more time with your sisters. I gotta take care of this code and then we'll get down to business."

Nashville saw the need to point something out, "Couldn't you just say that you getting ordered to break that code immediately is getting in the way of our mission?"

Commander saw what Nashville is getting at and out of the corner of his eye he noticed West Virginia tense up. She was up to something; Slade would be much more careful with orders. Still, Commander decided that he would like to see what's up. He said, "We could say that, but this time, I'll let it go." West Virginia relaxed and he gave his final order, "I'll radio you once I'm ready."

"Yes sir." She saluted him. He wouldn't normally be a stickler on saluting, but they had to set an example to the other ship girls in the room. He saluted back and she left to catch up with her sisters. Out came Mr. Bond and he got started on the code radioed to him.

Twenty minutes passed into the process and he was aware that he was alone in the mess hall, except for West Virginia who hadn't moved other than to place her empty tray in it's place. He decided to break the silence, "This was some sort of test wasn't it?"

West Virginia stood and walked to sit across from the codebreaker. She kept a straight face yet asked suspiciously, "How did you know?"

"Would I be stereotyping if I said, 'Battleships aren't known for their deception?'"

West Virginia chuckled to herself, "That would be a normally accurate stereotype. I mean, look at my sister, Maryland, I don't think I know anyone less subtle than her. And this is a battleship talking."

"I'll take your word for it. But now, tell me, did I pass your test?"

"Yes."
"What was the test for?"

"It was to find the value of your word. Would you do as you said?" Commander hummed in acknowledgement of this. He was about to ask if she would be staying for the whole process, but she decided to speak some more. "You didn't really answer my question. How did you know I was doing something?" Commander smiled and said nothing, trying to get into the battleship's head. "Are you a mind reader? If so, what am I thinking about?" jested the battleship.

This question was a no-brainer. He said, "You're wondering how I'm going to respond."

She narrowed her eyes again before sighing slowly, "You're not wrong. I guess, you're just that good at reading people."

"I'm good at seeing patterns. You have your patterns, and you broke them while talking. This led me to assume one thing after another and I ended up guessing correctly."

"That's really impressive."

They continued chatting for the next hour as the commander chipped away at his code. During that time West Virginia ended up confessing her confusion as to her place in a battlefield dominated by aircraft carriers. Commander felt sympathetic for the super-dreadnought before him. But eventually the code was cracked, and they reviewed the findings.

In five days' time the Sirens had planned for a sizable fleet of about twenty mass production ships with two aircraft carriers to ambush and sink a convoy from South America bound for New York Harbor as they passed between Jamaica and Haiti. They would attack from the west in the Caribbean Sea between Cuba and Jamaica. It seemed the Sirens wanted to force a battle.

Commander needed to make a decision here. He had hoped to have dealt with this superweapon within the week, but it seemed a mission would likely take him a week's sailing in a round trip too far from where he wanted to be. He really wanted some experience commanding for him and surface fighting for Nashville before the fight that might just get them killed. Whelp. He hoped that the monster was comfortable in it's hole because he needed to be elsewhere. Maybe he could warn the convoy to go outside the superweapon's attack range. If it had one. He'd have to see. But anyway, he radioed the cracked message to West Virginia and told her to notify the Admiral that he and Nashville wouldn't be available for the rest of the day. West Virginia didn't ask questions, but she wished him a good day and left.

Commander sent out a radio signal to Nashville to wrap up whatever she's doing and meet him at her hull to get changed into something casual. They were gonna hit the town.

XXXXXXXX

He arrived at her hull just as she was saying goodbye to her sisters. He passed them as they were leaving the dock. Honolulu stayed quiet and avoided looking at him. Commander figured that she was still upset about what happened at breakfast. Helena was much more cordial and wished him well, which he returned. Not seeing any reason to ponder the subject further he saw that Nashville was waiting for him by the gangway. Brief greetings were exchanged and as they ascended onto her deck he asked, "Did you tell your sisters that we were going off base?"

She looked over her shoulder and reported, "They overheard when you gave the order over radio."

"How did they take it?"

"Not well. Even though they both seemed okay with it, I can tell that they were faking it. They really wanted to come off base."

In typical Las Vegas fashion he thought for a moment as they were nearing their respective quarters and he said, "If we can come up with anything more than a flimsy excuse, I wouldn't be opposed to getting them off base for the first time. But I don't know, we'll see what happens."

Nashville grinned a little bit. His response wasn't exactly what she was hoping for, but it will have to do. She couldn't in good conscience ask for more, so she said, "Thank you, sir."

They arrived at their respective quarters and began to change their attire. Commander had made this process easy on himself. On went a dark grey t-shirt and jeans. He attached his concealed-carry holster with his pistol into his waistband so that it sat inside on his back right and his knife went into his front left pocket. The best part was donning his favorite shoe brand and seeing a navy-blue sneaker with white accents take him back to his college days. He was ready and went outside to wait for his companion.

Nashville found herself in a debacle that she hadn't foreseen when they had bought all of their clothing. She had only narrowed down all of her selections that day a little seeking to placate her desire of many styles with many outfits. This was compounded by the fact that she had to look her best. She didn't know why, she just did. She considered the climate and weather. Something light. A white blouse. Okay. What works with that? She chose a pair of skinny jeans that had a few decorative tears in them. Awesome. Fortunately, shoes were the easiest part. On went a pair of red and grey sneakers whose colors reminded her of her normal dress. And out she went, ready to face her commander.

He heard her open her door and he looked her way. It was perfect. She didn't look out of place at all at a glance. But there was one problem. One that sent him back to the first time he had seen her. Despite this being the most modest thing that he had seen her wear she was hot, painfully so. And there was no way to conceal that without anything that would attract attention in the heat of Miami at the height of summer. A moment of self-awareness hit him. He was on a globe-trotting sea-monster slaughtering adventure with a hottie who is also a ship. Well, if he had to go on an adventure anyway, he was glad to have a beautiful woman with him. It sure beat a hottie-less adventure.

She smiled smugly, "Where are your eyes?"

His mind lit up like a Christmas tree with the phrase, "OOOOOHHHHH MMMYYYYYY GGGAAAAAAWWWWWWDDDDDD!" He had been looking, and then thinking, in her direction for too long and got found out. He sputtered like an idiot.

In what had already felt like a previous life, Nashville would have been very upset with her last captain for looking at her like just now. But when her present commander's eyes fell on her body, she swelled with pride and somehow, still felt at ease. But that didn't stop her from making fun of this geek. So, when she had asked him where his eyes were and he started sputtering, she couldn't help herself, she started to laugh and that put her in a far better mood than she was a few minutes ago. She saw that the time had come to cut some slack, "Okay, I forgive you. You've never seen me in something other than my usual clothing, so you had to get it out of the way. Come on. Let's get going."

He nodded quickly to accept his escape route. They left her hull and found their way to the front entrance of the base all the while trying to avoid the sight of any ship girls, lest questions start being asked. It didn't go as well as they had hoped, but at the time they didn't know that.

XXXXXXXX

The duo lucked out that the Eagle Union Coast Guard already had their sector and district command in Miami. They lucked out further that it was quite close by the base in downtown Miami. They entered the appropriate white building with some palm trees growing outside. A coastguardsman at the receptionist desk greeted them and asked what he could help them with today.

Commander said, "We need you to direct us to the person in charge of any department that investigates ships sinking, particularly navy ships."

The coastguardsman looked at the casually dressed duo incredulously and said, "I'm going to need to know who you are before I do anything."

"Naval Intelligence," said the commander.

"Really? Okay then, I'm going to need your service number to confirm that. I hope you understand, you and your partner don't look the part of naval intelligence." The coastguardsman pulled up his own service registry on the computer before him.

Commander cackled internally and recited the number to the enlisted man behind the desk. The computer was taking it's sweet time so the man decided to make some conversation, "You know what's funny?"

Nashville answered this time, "What is?"

"You two aren't the first ones in the past few days that are asking to talk to Commander Vasquez about navy ships sinking. I'd say that four or five days ago an FBI agent came through looking for what you are."

Commander stroked his chin, "I wonder if they have anything to do with what we're after?"

During the time that Commander was saying that last sentence the service registry pulled up and the coastguardsman was taking a look at the scant information available. He paled, knowing exactly what the deal with a tier seven clearance was. Questions came to his mind. Questions that would never be answered. Still, he would do his job. He picked up the phone attached to his desk and notified the aforementioned Commander Vasquez of two naval intel officers looking to talk to him. He looked to the duo in front of his desk with no small amount of alarm and said, "Commander Vasquez's office is on the second-floor room thirty-eight. He's ready for you now."

Both commander and ship girl voiced their gratitude before they advanced past the receptionist desk into an elevator. The doors closed and Nashville just had to ask, "Did Admiral Slade look like that too when you gave her your service number?"

Commander chuckled and recalled, "No, Slade did a much better job of hiding her emotions," and he paused for a second before asking back, "Is it bad that I found his expression funny?"

"Nah. I thought it was pretty funny too."

The elevator stopped and the door slid open. They were able to find the correct office without difficulty and they knocked on the door. Instead of simply being invited to enter as expected a Latino man in his late thirties that had to be Commander Vasquez opened the door to greet them. "Are you two the naval intelligence officers I was just told about?"

Commander answered, opting to forgo using his rank vocally to avoid any confusion, "Yes we are. I'm Las Vegas and this is my partner, Nashville. You're Commander Vasquez?"

"Yeah. Please, come in and take a seat," said Vasquez as he stepped aside to reveal what looked to be a standard cookie-cutter office space. He moved to his own seat while the visitors sat down in seats in front of his desk. Once they were settled in Vasquez got right down to business, "What can I do for the two of you?"

"You're in charge of investigating the cause of naval ships sinking?" confirmed Nashville.

"That's right. We use survivor reports mainly. But we do send out divers occasionally."

Commander leaned forward just a bit and inquired, "Would it be at all possible for you to compile a list of ships sinking in this region for the past six months or so?"

"Yeah, I could get that to you right now actually," and he turned to his computer to pull up the files before he offered, "You aren't the first person within this past week that's asked for the same thing."

Commander was too curious now to let this pass on by. "Yeah, we heard that from the coastguardsman manning the entrance. He said it was an FBI agent. Any idea what the FBI want with information about ships sinking?"

Vasquez suddenly looked uncomfortable. He said, "I've been in the coast guard for nearly seventeen years now. I worked on drug interdiction for most of it. Thought I saw it all, those traffickers can be real brutal. You know? And then one day, this FBI agent comes in saying that ships sinking has something to do with a string of grisly murders. Some ritualistic voodoo sounding stuff. The kind of shit that keeps you up at night."

Nashville spoke before Las Vegas did, "Did he say what the connection was?"

Vasquez shook his head but then thought for a second. "Not entirely. He said that they had a suspect that was saying some really wacked-out shit about a reckoning from the deep or something like that. He didn't tell me anything else, just told me to keep him posted on the cause when ships sink."

"I can agree with you on that Commander Vasquez. That's some creepy stuff. Let's hope we can find a way to stop the ships from sinking. Maybe that will stop the murders," said Las Vegas, and then he had a thought, "or maybe, if we stop the murders, we'll stop the ships from sinking?" But that would be crazy. What humans would possibly work with the Sirens willingly? And why would the Sirens possibly heel to the actions of any human? Or is that even what's going on? They would have to track down and ask this FBI agent.

For the sake of making this easier on themselves Las Vegas asked, "Do you remember this FBI agent's name?"

"Yeah, his name was…Johnson. Agent Johnson. White guy. Sturdy build. Shouldn't be too hard to find if you're looking to do what I think you are," Vasquez then stood from his desk and said, "I just sent out the reports to print, most of the investigations aren't too intensive but it should be enough to give you a good idea of what happened to each ship." Vasquez left the room.

Nashville spoke just as the door clicked closed, "This doesn't feel good Commander. Something isn't right."

Las Vegas shared the sentiment and replied, "You're right, I'm getting bad vibes too. But if this person, or these people—if there's more of them—have anything to do with our mission, I bet that they know tons more than we do. Any information would be worth gold. And if these people are making things worse, we gotta stop them. But still, too much is in the air and too much is at stake to leave this stone unturned. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," Nashville said to convince herself and she continued, "Yeah, we need to at least make sure that it's nothing before we forget it."

"We'll roll by the FBI office here in Miami later today." Nods of agreement were exchanged a few seconds before Vasquez entered back into his office.

Vasquez passed to Nashville a manilla folder that had a few dozen pages in it and then sat back down. "Here ya go. There's the final results of six months' worth of investigations," informed the coastie, and he chuckled a bit, then said, "To think that I was initially posted so that we could find info that would improve our ship building here in the Union."

Las Vegas was content to thank the man and leave to pour over the file on his own time, but Nashville wasn't, so she asked, "Could you give us a quick rundown of what causes the most ships to sink in this file?"

"I'll tell you, and then you'll understand why I've been asking why it's taken so long for any sort of intelligence service to take notice. The most common cause of sinking for these ships isn't submarines. No, that would be too normal. It's lightning strikes. Big ol' bolts of lightning that can penetrate armored decks. But that's not all," Nashville and Las Vegas leaned forward in interest, "It doesn't happen nearly as often as the lightning, but every now and then, freak vortexes big enough to swallow ships will appear."

Nashville responded with wide eyes, "Yeah, why did it take this long?"

Vasquez then added on one last thing, "It especially doesn't make sense when you consider that every time this happens it gets slapped with an above top-secret label. So, I thought that someone higher up would do something. The only reason I told you all of this is because of your clearance level, Commander Las Vegas. But before you run off, as thanks, tell me, are more people going to have to die?"

Las Vegas put on a determined look, "Not if we can help it."

Vasquez looked more at ease than he did when they met him. All three of them stood from their seats and handshakes were exchanged. As they left Vasquez said, "Best of luck. I have a feeling you're gonna need it."

XXXXXXXX

As they left the Coast Guard office Commander was already checking the physical display on Mr. Bond to find where the nearest FBI field office was. It turned out to be quite the distance away in Miramar, to the north. It looked like taxis were on the agenda. Commander checked the time on his watch after he stowed Mr. Bond in his pocket. It was early afternoon. A thought struck him, "Hey Nashville," she was broken from her reflection on the revelations dropped on them, "I know that we just found out some messed up stuff but how does finding a place to eat sound to you?"

Nashville forced a smile and relayed to her commander, "That actually sounds nice right now. But where?"

Commander put on a smile that belied a charisma that rarely surfaced in the man. He happily said, "Well, you see, step one of tourism is as follows: eat what the locals eat. So, what we gotta do is ask somebody what's good around here. Look over there," he pointed toward the bay that conveniently had a park on the banks a block away, "we can find and ask someone over there."

Nashville nodded and they were off. As they walked Commander liked to keep his head on a swivel. Not because he was expecting trouble, but rather so that he can see if anything interesting is happening and just, enjoy the humanity. He looked into store and shop windows as they walked. They passed a quaint looking café and if Commander wasn't looking in at the exact moment they passed, he would have missed some familiar faces. He stopped walking and Nashville continued another step before seeing that her companion had stopped. "What's up?" she asked.

"I think we just found a good place for lunch. Some friends of ours seem to think this is a good spot."

Nashville was beyond confused but followed her commander inside. As they entered, she was able to note that the café wasn't very full which was odd given the time of day but didn't think any more on it as she noticed what had stopped Las Vegas. She saw two teenage girls in casual clothing that both had silvery hair. One of them saw movement out of the corner of her eye and looked to see what it was, expecting to see a waiter. Red eyes saw who their company was and with no change in her neutral monotone she said to her sister, "Sis. We've been found out."

Silver eyes looked in the direction of Commander and Nashville. Her lips parted in surprise and then she looked to the ground, her expression one of dread. The two newcomers sat down at a table adjacent. Only now did Commander speak, "Montpelier, Denver, fancy seeing you two here."

Montpelier said nothing but her gaze filled with defiance towards the superior officer, while Denver began to panic. She hurriedly began to apologize for her and her sister's infraction, "I'm soooo sorry for doing this Commander. You see, with how things are on base we just thought that we would get some fresh air. You know?"

Commander couldn't decide if he was angry or not. He was a superior officer and had regulations to follow. But personally, he sympathized with the plight of the ship girls in the Eagle Union. He thought about what his state on non-existence meant. Did that mean he could ignore regulation? It is pretty hard to hold nobody accountable when nobody breaks the rules. He could overlook this. He rendered his judgement and said, "Regulation requires that I be angry that you two are awol. But personally, I like some fresh air myself. I think that we," he gestured between himself and Nashville, "can overlook this. Do you do this often?"

Denver saw the light at the end of the tunnel and was able to look Commander in the eye as she said, "No sir. We do this maybe once a month."

He nodded, not having detected any deception. He then asked, "Do you know if anybody else from the base does this?"

"If they do, nobody talks about it."

"Okay then. I'd wager that at least a few of them do then. I'll tell you what. Since you don't do this often, I'll turn a blind eye to the practice under a few conditions."

Denver gulped and Montpelier narrowed her eyes. Montpelier asked aggressively, "What conditions?"

He held up his hand to count off his conditions on his fingers, "First, don't let me or anybody catch you in uniform. Second, if you do get caught, don't expect me to back you up. And finally," he smiled in a way that Nashville recognized as his joking one, "you tell us what's good to eat at this place."

Montpelier raised one of her eyebrows in surprise and confusion. She asked herself, "Is this guy for real? He must be, he passed the Eldridge Experiment." Denver, on the other hand, let out a relieved laugh. She said, "Wow, Commander. You had me there for a second. It's nice to know that you aren't just putting on a nice guy act."

"An act? Who thought it was an act?"

As it turned out, Montpelier didn't mince words. She said, "Everyone."

Denver elaborated on her sister, "She's not lying sir. At least, at first, everyone thought that you were just saying things. Eldridge doing her thing did a lot in convincing most of the people on base but some," she said looking to her sister, "still think that you're bogus."

Montpelier didn't say anything to defend her position. She didn't have anything to prove but she was sure that this guy did. She didn't know what and she didn't want to know, if she were being honest. She was further surprised with what the commander said next, "Guess it makes sense. After all that has been said and done over the years, I can see why it would be hard to trust one such as I. No hard feelings from me though, just an fyi. I don't want to force people's opinions to change one way or another."

Montpelier was about to accuse the commander of something, but a waiter strolled up to the new guests and asked for any drink options. Denver and Montpelier had already ordered their food, so it was just Nashville and Commander. Denver spoke up, "I prefer the sweeter stuff, but just about any coffee from this place is really good."

They made their selections and started to wait. Montpelier would have resumed her course of action to accuse Commander. It's what her big sister, Cleveland, would have done. She doesn't back down from anything. But she wasn't her sister. And on the other hand, she knew that Cleveland wouldn't do anything to try and hurt anybody. She chose to not say anything. Denver was just glad that nothing bad was going to happen to them. Still, she hated the quiet. Only bad things hid in silence. Cleveland wouldn't stand by silence any longer than was absolutely needed, she asked the commander, "So, Commander Las Vegas, what made you join the Navy?"

But the commander wasn't looking in Denver's direction. He was looking out to the street. Denver made a move to repeat her question but as she got the first word out Commander raised his hand to show he heard her and to cut her off. He explained himself, "Sorry to cut you off like that but I just saw something in the street that demands immediate attention. I'll answer your question once I get back." As he left the café, he ordered Nashville to wait for him.

"What's he doing?" asked Montpelier.

"I don't know," informed Nashville, "but he has a knack at noticing things."

Commander had stood and left as an enormous crowd of people crossed in front of the café. He was able to conceal his presence as he entered the sea of humanity by holding his head down a bit, lest his height give him away. He crossed the street with the people and walked up to a bench where two young women were talking. "Where did he go?" asked the red head to the bluenette next to her.

"He's right here," said Commander.

Both Honolulu and Helena snapped to look at the officer that they had been tailing all morning. They lowered the newspapers that they had been hiding behind and stood. Helena started to justify what they had been doing, "We're sorry for following you and Nashville off base like this. We only wanted to know what's going on with our sister."

Commander sighed and said, "I understand that you care about your sister. But please, also understand, that we have been specifically ordered by the highest authorities on this planet to keep our business under wraps. Please respect that."

Both Helena and Honolulu looked downtrodden but still responded with a quiet, "Yes sir," at the same time.

Commander switched his gaze between the two sisters before him. He noted that dying hair into strange colors wasn't weird and both of them had on more casual attire. Commander figured that they too, sneak out from time to time. He felt a little bad for sinking their concerns though, so he said, "Look. Since you two are already out here do you want to join the four of us for lunch?" Helena smiled a bit and Honolulu nodded. "Then let's not keep them waiting."

They crossed the street and entered the café. Understanding looks were exchanged between the Cleveland sisters and the now entering Brooklyn sisters. They all sat down and this time the waiter approached immediately to get drink orders from the newcomers. As he left Commander recalled Denver's question and started, "Hey Denver. You asked me why I joined the navy?"

She nodded and said, "Yeah. You strike me as the kind of guy that has a secret ambition or something like that."

Commander chuckled as all eyes turned on him. He explained, "No ambitions. I promise. If I'm honest with you lot, if I had the choice, I wouldn't have joined the military at all. In fact, I went to college to avoid being drafted."

All save Nashville were awestruck. Honolulu spoke for them all, "No way. You look like you enjoy your job too much."

"You're right but, there's more to the story. So, I was in college and even went to grad school to avoid being drafted. But no matter what I did to delay it didn't work. One day the choice became, 'wait to be drafted into the merchant marines or the marine corps or enlist in the Navy.' I won't lie, I was pretty torn between all three. I was leaning towards the navy from the beginning for one reason or another, but I was about to see how things would play out. Then one day, fate intervened," Commander paused for the sake of increasing the drama and then he continued as all of the listeners demonstrated interest in their own unique way, "I found a book about a ship. It was a light cruiser called the, 'Emden,' and she sailed under the banner of the Imperial Iron Blood Navy during the opening months of the First World War. Operating alone in the Indian Ocean she was able to intercept more than twenty merchant ships, sink two warships, and raid two allied harbors, all the while being pursued by a driven foe that outgunned them and was faster. Their luck eventually ran out and they were destroyed by something bigger and badder than they were. But as I read, the ingenuity, fighting spirit, and gentlemanly conduct of the crew and specifically their commander, Karl von Muller, inspired in me the same respect and admiration that had occurred to the Royal Navy a century ago. As I closed that book, I decided that I would join the navy. It's a bit long winded, but that's the story. And then in another twist of fate I happened to be good at and enjoy my job."

Helena and Honolulu were processing this information. Nashville found in herself more respect for her commander. Denver was super glad that Commander didn't just want fame, fortune, power, or anything like that. But it was Montpelier that spoke first, "You want to be like that von Muller guy?"

"Absolutely. Commander von Muller is what I see in my head when the perfect officer comes to mind. He did what needed to be done yet was generous. He was a professional warfighter, yet he didn't lust for blood or glory. He outsmarted his enemies, yet he understood the mortality of his men and himself. He performed his duty as a state sanctioned pirate, but only harassed the enemies of his homeland. If I could be like anybody, I would want to be like Karl von Muller."

Commander's sincerity had taken everyone off guard. Montpelier saw some comparison between him and herself. They both had heroes. Denver started to speak next, "It's kind of like me and my sister here. We both look up to our biggest sister, Cleveland. I think you'd like her, Commander. Us Cleveland sisters like to call ourselves, 'the knights of the seas,' and it's nice to know that it's not just us trying to do the right thing."

Commander smiled at Denver's compliment and replied, "What's Cleveland like?"

Montpelier responded, having softened for the officer, "My big sis is…strong, cool, has a golden smile, and she could probably beat anyone in a fight…I, we, want to be like her one day."

"She must be pretty awesome then."

The waiter came back and delivered the drinks for Helena and Honolulu and asked what they along with Nashville and Commander wanted to eat. Nashville's sisters had already eaten so, that left Nashville and Commander to hurriedly find some sandwich on the front of the menu and order that. He left and came back with the Cleveland sisters' food. Instead of digging in, they decided to wait for everyone. Conversation continued and eventually the food came out and they stopped talking as much so they could eat. Once that was done though, any passerby could mistake the motley group as a tight-knit band of friends. They laughed and shared their thoughts openly. For just a moment, all was right in the world, if only they knew what was coming.

An hour passed, and then two hours, but there was a job to do. When a lull in the talking came up, Commander reluctantly started to speak, "Looks like it falls to me to be the bad guy. Don't look at me like that Honolulu. Anyway, Nashville and I still have some stuff that needs to be done in town today. It was nice seeing you lot here. But you four should probably get back on base before anybody starts missing you."

Goodbyes flew as salvoes to and fro. Commander asked Denver and Montpelier to fill Honolulu and Helena on the conditions of going out and about. As they were about to leave Denver stuck out her clenched fist and it was apparent to the officer what she wanted. He bumped her fist with his own and Denver said, "How strange, Commander, you're also a fan of the 'bro fist?' I thought we were the only ones who used that greeting."

"Take care you four. We'll see you tonight," said Commander.

Nashville wished her sisters and new friends well, "Thank y'all so much for all the fun. We'll see y'all later!"

Outside the café Commander waved down a taxi and gave the address of the corner down from the FBI field office. They got in and left.

XXXXXXXX

After they had been in the taxi for about a half hour Commander remembered something. He turned to see Nashville fascinated by the huge buildings that they passed. He smiled and felt that what he wanted to ask could wait until they arrived.

They got off at the desired curbside and the driver was thanked in word and then in payment. Amidst the people on the sidewalk Commander could now ask what Nashville wanted for her incredible gunnery against the submarines off Panama. He got her attention from all the sights around them and asked, "Remember how I said I would get you something once we got to Miami?" She nodded, so Commander asked, "Do you know what you want? And would you rather get it now or later, presumably after things get ugly with the agent?"

"We should probably get it now then. What I want is a camera."

"You want a camera? Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh. Since becoming like I am now, I've learned that good moments can be really brief, and then they run away like they're scared of you. I want a camera so I can remember the good moments."

"Fair enough. There's gotta be some place that sells cameras nearby," he said as he checked Mr. Bond again. There was, and it was only a block away. He informed Nashville and they walked and entered an art and hobby supply store. They went to a section that was dedicated to photography and had a decent selection of cameras. After comparing specs, which Commander had to explain, Nashville selected a slightly more compact DSLR camera. They purchased it with tons of extra memory cards for the new amateur photographer in their midst. Walking back to the FBI office they passed an office supply store, and a backpack was procured to carry everything they would need on their mission.

They entered the building and went through a metal detector. Everything checked out and they were allowed to proceed. As a side note, commander could see that even through a metal detector Nashville seemed completely human. Further points to his belief that she is in reality, human. They approached the receptionist and went through much the same process as earlier with the Coast Guard except they were looking for an Agent Johnson. Much like before they were given a floor number and a room number. But as they got off the elevator on the appropriate floor they were met with an agent who wasn't Johnson, that led them to his office and let them in. As he left, he informed them that Johnson was finishing up a report to the department head and would join them shortly.

As they sat Commander was able to inspect the agent's desk. He had a name placard that gave his full name and title, "Special Agent Hugh Johnson."

Nashville happened to be looking at the same time and said while pointing, "Hey Commander, look. Hugh Johnson… 'huge johnson.' He must be very proud of himself."

Commander had to fight off his laughter, it seemed that in the end, dick jokes did indeed transcend whatever boundaries separated the commander from his associate ship girl. He retorted back, "Spoiler alert, Nashville. If he's onto us for knowing what he's packing he'll never help us."

"Oh god why?" Nashville asked the heavens above. Still the snickering of both people continued. But eventually it came to conclusion. A few more minutes passed, and the door opened. Both man and ship girl stood to greet who they assumed to be Agent Johnson. They were able to confirm that it was the man they were looking for.

They all sat down, and Johnson asked, "Who are you two?"

Commander answered him, "I'm Commander Las Vegas and this is my partner Nashville. We're with Naval Intelligence. We've heard that you're investigating something to do with the circumstances of naval ships sinking and how they relate to a string of murders."

Johnson crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, "That's right. But I was only informed of visitors that wanted to talk to me so I'm going to have to call someone to verify who you are. You have your service number handy?" Commander nodded and Johnson picked up the phone on his desk. After calling someone in the building and explaining that he needed an officer's credentials checked the phone was put on speaker and Commander recited his service number to the person on the other end of the phone.

A few seconds passed. A gasp was heard, and the voice said, "The credentials check out. And watch out for this guy Agent Johnson. He's got top tier Azur Lane clearance and obstructing him is apparently a crime."

"Thanks for the heads up. And thanks for your help. Bye," and Johnson hung up. He looked to the heroes in his office and deadpanned, "Well, I guess I have to spill the beans. What do you want to know?"

"First I want to confirm what you know about all the ships that have sunk," said Commander.

"I know that a lot of them have sunk under mysterious circumstances. Lightning strikes, vortexes, stuff like that."

"Okay then. So, what's the apparent connection between all of these instances of ships sinking and a ritualistic serial killer?"

Agent Johnson sighed and then replied, "You're asking about a case that's open at the moment, so I don't have answers, but I'll tell you what I know," Johnson took a breath and began his tale, "About two weeks ago a guy came to Miami PD saying that he escaped some cult that wanted to sacrifice him to their gods, this man died of gunshot wounds in a hospital an hour later before he could be questioned. But before being rushed off, he insisted that some of his buddies were still alive but that they would be killed any day. Miami PD then passed on the tip to FBI hostage rescue and that was when the bureau got involved. The raid was conducted, but it didn't go cleanly. The cultists were expecting us somehow and a firefight broke out. Most of the cultists were killed, and the survivors poisoned themselves, except for one. An officer managed to wrench his cyanide pill out of his mouth before he bit down on it or swallowed the pill."

Nashville jumped into the conversation, concerned for those to be sacrificed, "What about the people who didn't get away with the other guy?"

Johnson looked at her grimly and said, "They were sacrificed. They had their eyes and hearts carved out. Autopsy showed that the process was very ritualistic and deliberate in nature. Whoever these cultists were, they knew exactly what they were doing. But as I was saying, we managed to capture a cultist and for the past two weeks he's been held in interrogation. He only ate when being forced and as I'm sure you two can guess, he wasn't the most talkative sort."

"Wasn't?" asked Commander, "past tense?"

"That's the report I was just giving to my department head when you two came in. When we all woke up this morning and came in to work, the three men on guard duty for the detainee's cell were somehow strangled to death and the cultist had hung himself during the night. Surveillance of the occurrence showed him ranting and raving about how, 'the day of deep reckoning is upon us.' So, with that, our trail just went cold on the investigation."

Commander and Nashville exchanged glances. That sure was creepy. Whatever the case may be, Nashville saw a problem though, "Okay so he hung himself. I'm sorry for your investigation. But you still haven't explained what the sacrifices have to do with our ships sinking."

"The link is in the victims. All of the victims that we have identified, which is most of them, were sailors that served aboard those ships that were sunk by these freak lightning strikes or vortexes. Given how rare it is to get survivors off these vessels the number of these surviving sailors has fallen considerably. The rest of the survivors of the survivors have been placed in witness protection for their safety. I personally speculate that this cult wants to silence the survivors for some reason, but we're sure that they feel they have something to gain by sacrificing them to whatever gods they worship instead of just killing them, like normal wack-jobs."

Nashville and Commander retreated to their thoughts. Commander, by virtue of his logical personality, was able to cut through the blood-soaked parts to latch onto the questions of: What do they want? What do they know about the Siren Superweapons? Is this an isolated incident just in the Eagle Union? God forbid this is happening all around the world. Nashville was much more emotionally minded and was mourning for all those that had to have their lives unfairly cut short. She knew what it was like to see people die, sailors had met their end aboard her before. But she just wanted to know the reason why anyone would do something so horrible to another person. Killing and war made sense to her. Sometimes violence is just what the doctor ordered, but such barbarity was beyond her comprehension.

Commander felt that they were starting to get to the end of their leads on this cult and whatever it is they want so he wanted to wrap this up, "You said the cultist was in interrogation for what? Nearly two weeks? Did he say anything at all?"

Johnson straightened his tie and looked Commander in the eye before he reported, "Under duress we were able to extract the name of the cult. They call themselves the, 'Heralds of the Deep.' But that isn't all. Under even more duress, the cultist said something unexpected. It turns out that he or maybe the cult at large are poets."

"Poets?" asked Nashville, "Are you kidding?"

"No, this on my computer screen was recorded from inside the interrogation room the few minutes he became a poet," said Johnson as he rotated his computer screen to Las Vegas and Nashville.

It opened with a man beating another man tied in a chair. It seemed that "duress," was the kid friendly term for, "torture." The aggressor stepped aside, and speech started to be heard.

INTERROGATOR: We can stop this whenever you want. You only have to answer a few questions. What do your gods want you to do? And why?

The cultist remained silent. Getting a good look at him without the aggressor in the way revealed a spindly looking pale man that looked like something resembling a human, as opposed to actually being human. His incredibly thin gray hair was matted in places and his eyes seemed to lack color, they were so hollow. He smiled to reveal jagged teeth that were missing some and had others rotting away. He stayed silent long enough for the aggressor to do his job again. He beat the cultist some more and the interrogator waved him off. The cultist was bleeding all over his face with other obvious injuries in various states of healing. The interrogator repeated the question from earlier. The cultist smiled again, only this time he spoke. And speak he did! The sound was as if a snake was howling over a bed of hot coals yet loved the pain and savored every moment of agony.

CULTIST:

By the fear of the deep,

With the fury of the flow,

A sacrifice for a quo,

We are permitted to reap.

To us is given to know,

Through many a prophet,

A blessed, accursed docket,

So that change we may undergo.

What will they next in our minds deposit?

A truth serene?

A truth obscene?

We yearn for an age inapposite,

Heralded by one most marine,

Cleanse us of all things unclean.

INTERROGATOR: Get the cuffs on him. Get him out of here.

The cultist began to scream bloody murder as the aggressor slapped extra cuffs on top of the already present restraints. The thin man was about to overpower the one who had beaten him, but four or five men poured into the room and the cultist was tackled to the ground. He was carried away, but not gently. Then the video cut off.

All three of the people in Agent Johnson's office leaned back in their chairs. Commander and Nashville were shocked speechless. Terror occupied both of their minds. It was Johnson who broke the silence, "Not a pretty thing is it? We know it's a sonnet and that it uses a traditional Iron Blood rhyme scheme, but that doesn't really mean anything."

Commander and Nashville shook their heads yet stayed quiet. Having recovered to some degree it was Nashville who asked, "So, with the cultist dead, where does that leave your investigation?"

"It leaves us with not much if I'm honest with you. At this moment, we in the field office are notifying other offices to keep an eye out for any cult activity of this nature. But there is one more thing. All around the cultist's hideout we found this symbol," said Johnson as he rotated his screen again to show a symbol that at first glance seemed to be a mishmash of lines that had no concept of symmetry or organization. As the commander leaned in for a closer look, he saw that the lines were in a vaguely circular pattern with preference toward one edge. No one part of the symbol reappeared in another part. This upset his mathematical mind that thrives on patterns and rules. Maybe it meant something in a language best left unspoken, or unacknowledged?

Finally, being able to speak Commander asked, "Is there anything else that you can tell us, Agent Johnson? Anything at all?"

Johnson looked relieved to have this over with, "I've told you all I know. Do you want me to print out the full report that we have on this case? It includes a transcription of the interrogation."

"Yes, that would be helpful," said Commander as Johnson put in a command on his computer then left his office to presumably go to the printer.

Nashville turned to look at her commander, with fear and some number of tears in her eyes, and asked, "I know that you'll want to get it out of the way and done with but please, can we talk about this later? Tomorrow at the earliest?"

"Yeah, we can do that," consented Commander numbly.

They sat in complete silence until Johnson returned. He passed them the printed report that included all of what was just discussed and even had the symbol that the agent had shown them. Thanks, and well-wishes were exchanged between the FBI agent and his visitors. They said goodbye to the agent and then left the building without any words between them.

XXXXXXXX

By the time that they arrived back on base it was rolling into dinner time. So, they went back to Nashville's hull and changed back into their normal attire. They tried their hardest to get in a frame of mind that would be able to conceal that something is wrong. The normal mood prevailed in the mess hall, Eldridge giving Commander a hug sure helped him pull himself together. The simple presence of Nashville's sisters helped calm her down. It looked as if Denver, Montpelier, Honolulu, and Helena were able to sneak back into base without anybody noticing. They ate and they talked, even though conversation went in one ear and out the other. Nashville's sisters were about to say something, but West Virginia stood and called out, "Attention Admiral on deck!"

All rose to their feet as Rear Admiral Slade entered the mess hall. She said, "Listen up, thanks to Commander Las Vegas we were able to get a code deciphered this morning that says that the Sirens are going to make a move on a convoy in less than five days. A portion of this fleet under my command will be setting sail tomorrow morning at 0900 to intercept the Sirens. Another portion under Commander Las Vegas is going to be in reserve. The rest of you are going to be holding down the port. Commander," she looked directly at him for his own orders.

"Ma'am?"

"Report to my office tomorrow morning at 0700 for your briefing."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Are there any questions?" asked Slade. She didn't see any so she finished saying, "Make any preparations that you may need to be combat ready tonight. Tomorrow, we sail for war."

Oh my. That sure was a lot that just happened. I hope that you enjoyed what you read, especially the introduction of the secondary antagonists of this story. But I gotta say, I'm kinda proud of my sonnet. Also, you should look up the story of the cruiser Emden. It's a good one. But anyway, a few comments have sprung up.

Thanks, theberg, for commenting. A future waifu fleet huh? Probably gonna happen. It's funny, I didn't walk in thinking I would make the military that heartless but as I sat there in front of my computer, I thought of what would be an extreme punishment for a ship? Execution, so scrapping. Changes are forthcoming and glorious victories are guaranteed. Please, stand by.

Thanks, SarkicShade, for writing me your first ever review. I'm honored. I do agree with you though. The novelty of inanimate objects, ships, becoming real women was weird to me too when I first heard the idea like what? Five or six year ago already. I'm really glad that you like the world. I tried to make a place that's inhabited by more than just the main characters. I'm also really glad that you like how things are coming together for the military, alliances, and the characters' interactions. I hope I handled H.P. Lovecraft well enough for you. But as time goes on, I can see their horror taking a back-seat roll, and it becomes much more like an obstacle, albeit a creepy one. But I'm not sure on that yet, we'll see.

Thanks, Guest, for your review. I'm glad that you love it so far. Other carriers? I had intended to at least feature Enterprise at some point, but I'm not sure when. You see, I have a basic outline of the story on paper so it's just a function of where we go and who we meet on the journey as things happen. But now that you mention it, Intrepid might not be a bad idea somewhere. She might just be unlucky enough to appear randomly. We'll see.

For some reason it took a few days for the newest comment dated for the ninth of January to appear so if there have been any comments between then and when this chapter goes up, I'm sorry. I'm not ignoring you. Well, that's all that I have today, or tonight, of that's when you're reading this. Take care, friends. If you are having a bad day I hope it gets better, and if you are having a good day I hope it gets even better.