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"…In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts you will bring about…the elimination of…tyranny over oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.
Your task will not be an easy one. The enemy is will trained, well equipped, and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely.…"
-Dwight D Eisenhower
Chapter 13: The "Royal" Welcome
Commander had been surprised to hear that at a speed of twenty-five knots it would only take about a week to reach the United Kingdom's waters. It took him a minute to comprehend how easy transatlantic crossings were nowadays in comparison to the age of the sail. Well, comparatively. The explorers and traders of old didn't have to contend with aliens. Still, with the same ease as had been expected Nashville and Commander had been able to avoid any submarines or raiders.
The first day that they had been journeying, Nashville was able to read the letters from her sisters. Commander saw that their words had done a superb job in brightening the already sunny disposition of his companion. As curious as he was to know what was written to her, he didn't pry into Nashville's private business. But what she was willing to share with him were photos sent her way. Upon inspection he could conclude that familial resemblance worked strangely among the Brooklyn sisters. Six of their original nine were ship girls but instead of looking about the same, or all different—as he had supposed by comparing Nashville, Helena, and Honolulu—they resembled each other in pairs. Brooklyn had an uncanny resemblance to Nashville, even though Nashville's body looked more like Honolulu's. On the topic of body, St. Louis just looked like a busty Helena. And from the personality conveyed in the photo, St. Louis was much more confident. Least resembling each other though was Honolulu and Phoenix. In appearance, all they had in common was red hair. He also got the impression that Phoenix was much more fun-loving than Honolulu.
That same day, Commander was able to get a test blow on Virgil Slade's whistle. It's shrill, two-tone cry filled him with both dread and courage at the same time. If Nashville had asked him directly, which she didn't, he would admit to having been shaken from the experience. He thanked God and counted his lucky stars that he didn't have to fight in World War I. How's that for a seemingly benign whistle to remind someone of the carnage that man will inflict on one another? And generations later, no less! Despite the peace that humans love, the peace their religions preach, or the peace they teach their children, are they doomed to forever serve the god of war, and be enslaved by the base lust for blood or power or wealth? Commander didn't know. He could only say that time will tell.
Beyond these things the only major decision to be made was to which port the duo would pull into. Nashville was again familiar with the ship girl bases around the United Kingdom. Both were able to pass a short time in begrudging gratitude that despite Nashville's misery at the time as a fast cargo ship, she knew her way around. The choice came down to two main options plus another probable. They could dock in Plymouth at Her Majesty's Naval Base Devonport in the southwest of the island nation or they could go around to the Firth of Forth and dock at HMNB Rosyth. Then Nashville swore that she had seen ship girls in Scapa flow, but that may have been a fluke the time she saw their hulls. Commander ruled out Scapa Flow quickly. He didn't want to count on what could be a fluke. Then, as interested as he was of being in the Kingdom of Fife in Rosyth, he couldn't deny, Devonport was the soundest option for the duo who didn't really know where they were going to find their superweapon. So, they made way for Plymouth which was closest to them coming from Miami.
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They proceeded with a whole lot of nothing happening. But that was preferable to the alternative of potentially bad excitement. Days passed. It was four days into their journey during the midafternoon, and the sun was starting to show on the backs of the traveling duo. Nashville personally liked the cooling feeling on her hull as the sun fell from it's highest position. What she didn't like nearly as much though, was the feeling of leaving the tropical waters of the Caribbean Sea for the cooler North Atlantic around the English Isles. But whatever happened, she knew that she could handle it, after all, she had navigated the Aleutian Islands of Alaska before, and in wartime conditions. How much harder could the North Atlantic be? Just watch out for icebergs. Easy peasy.
But as this was cruising around Nashville's mind a question had come to Commander's, one that might become potentially important in the future. He got Nashville's attention and asked, "Even though each nation retains rights to their sovereign waters I know that the larger navies of the world take it upon themselves to patrol sectors of the world's oceans. Could you explain to me how the world's oceans are divided? I only know about how the Eagle Union patrols the Eastern Pacific and the Western Atlantic and that the Sakura take care of the Eastern Pacific."
Nashville replied, "Well, those are the most clean-cut sectors. Let me think for a few seconds to remember." She had those few seconds. She looked back up, "In the most basic, you were right about the Eagle Union and Sakura. Then the Royal Navy takes care of the Eastern Atlantic and the Indian Ocean. They also patrol the waters around Australia and New Zealand. But I bet that isn't too surprising to you." Commander shook his head. Nashville then continued, "Things get complicated with the other factions, and the line between fact and rumor gets a bit blurry. The Vichya Dominion and the Sardegna Empire control the Mediterranean Sea, but they'll occasionally go through the Suez Canal and patrol the east coast of Africa and a bit into the Indian Ocean. The Iris Libre mainly patrol their own waters, but when they leave those waters, it's usually attached to the Royal Navy. I've heard that the Dragon Empery has pretty much the same arrangement, but with the Sakura, their former enemies. Don't know how that goes for them, so don't ask. Then the Northern Parliament stays in the Arctic for the most part."
Nashville took a moment to catch her breath after the explanation, but a faction was missing. "And the Kriegsmarine?" asked Las Vegas.
"They're the wildcards in all this."
"How so?"
"The only waters they patrol are their own and those of the Scandinavian countries but that's a small part of their force. The rest are organized into small fleets they call, 'Counter-raiding flotillas,' that scour the seven seas trying to force skirmishes with the Sirens. Apparently, they're pretty good at it too and unless any given nation's fleet is close to a friendly base, you can count on the Kriegsmarine to show up and bail you out first. I've also heard that a lot of them are real badasses, but I've never seen them in action. And on a side note, if anyone would know about our missing Task Force 13, I'd bet my money on the Kriegsmarine, because they get around the most."
Commander hummed at this new information. A follow-up occurred to him, "Do you know how often multi-national task forces are made?"
Nashville shook her head, and said, "Outside of the Iris with the Royals and the Empery with the Sakura you don't really hear of it happening officially. But think about it, big fleets get wrecked by superweapons usually."
Commander remembered something said in his first meeting with Roscoe and Hara. Commander concurred, "Good point, and when I first met them, Roscoe and Hara said that they were trying to limit the casualties among ship girls waiting for a better strategic position. That being the position they're hoping we'll give them."
Nashville changed the subject, "How did that go by the way? Meeting them for the first time? Because when I met Chairwoman Hara, I wasn't paying too much attention until she gave the transfer orders to my last captain and I was on the verge of dancing."
"I've given bits and pieces of the memory to you, but on the whole, it was a gut-punch. A lot of the things I thought were true really weren't. And that shook me up pretty good. I even remember that Hara interrupted me when I went to introduce myself."
That last sentence awakened something in Nashville that she hadn't thought about for nearly a month now. What was Commander Las Vegas's real name? She said, "If I were to guess your name right, would you tell me I got it?"
Commander shrugged and replied, "To be honest, I've gotten so used to, 'Las Vegas,' or just, 'Commander,' that hearing my old name would be super weird. It kind of feels like who I once was really is as dead as I am in the books. But, if you guess correctly, I'll tell you."
Nashville smiled. It was time to give a few guesses. She guessed, "Lucas?" He shook his head. "Frank?" Commander laughed and shook his head. "Is it a girl's name like, 'Leslie?'" Commander shook his head again, amusement clear on his face. "Is it something really rare?"
"Like what?"
Nashville took a moment to think of weird names she's heard. She said, "The last captain I had back in World War 2 had the first name, 'Atherton.' Is it something odd like that?"
Commander laughed out, "His name was Atherton? What was his last name?"
"Macondray."
"Well, unlike Captain Macondray, my name wasn't so out of left field."
"I'll get you're name right someday," promised Nashville.
"I look forward to it," concluded Commander.
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They continued sailing for HMNB Devonport and eventually Nashville got tense in a way that Commander hadn't seen before. She began navigating much more carefully and like a wound-up spring as she maneuvered them closer to the coastal green waters of south-west England. She explained that they were now officially running a blockade. She was grateful to finally have sonar that let her tell if anything was there, and of course Commander doing his job made the run so much less dangerous than it normally would be, even if for all they knew about the local superweapons, they could be in their prowling grounds already. Nashville also mentioned that this close to shore, she wouldn't be able to differentiate friendly from enemy ships that easily without hints or being close.
The most south-western tip of England was only just over the horizon when something not totally unexpected occurred. Nashville looked over to Las Vegas and in her serious business tone reported, "Sir, huff-duff just picked up a radio signal."
"Roger that," responded Commander, ready for a fight or flight. He got ready to intercept any signal and get to work decoding it immediately.
"It's over an open channel sir," informed Nashville. He looked up to her. "It's over Maritime VHF Channel 16. The international distress frequency."
"Let's hear what's going on then."
The radio gave static momentarily as it shifted to the desired frequency. A man's voice came over the radio, "Mayday Mayday Mayday, Coast Guard. Mayday Mayday Mayday, Coast Guard."
A woman's voice responded, "Vessel calling mayday. Vessel in distress. This is HMS Prince of Wales, request your position, nature of your distress, and number of persons on board. Over.
The man began to respond but an enormous explosion sounded over the radio. Once it subsided the man spoke again. This was one iron-willed seaman. He said, "This is the fishing trawler Ruby Harriet and fleet. We're twenty clicks south of Falmouth, under attack from a pair of Siren raiders, twenty-seven aboard with about ninety in the fleet. We've lost a ship already."
The woman replied, "Roger that Ruby Harriet. We'll get a counter force to your position. Expected arrival is in forty-five minutes."
"Bloody hell," muttered the man over the radio, and then he responded, "Understood Prince of Wales. We'll keep ourselves alive as long as possible."
Commander and Nashville shared a look. They didn't even have to discuss getting involved. Commander picked up his radio transponder and said, "Ruby Harriet, this is EUS Nashville. We are currently fifteen nautical miles to your south-west. Proceed westward, help us intercept. How copy?"
"Just our luck!" cried the Briton, "A Yankee of all people! Well, we can't afford to be picky. But we can't comply with your order, sir. There's men in the water."
"Understood, Ruby Harriet," responded Commander, "We'll pick up the pace." Nashville accelerated to flank speed and Commander was reminded of how fast forty-one knots felt.
Commander was about to order preparations underway for surface action but the woman from earlier started speaking again, "Nashville, this is Prince of Wales. Shift of Navy VHF 97 for instructions. Over."
"Yes, ma'am," complied Commander, "Stand by."
The radio finished it's transition in only a few seconds and when it was complete Commander spoke, "Prince of Wales, we're ready for your either your orders or your go-ahead to assist."
"We appreciate the willingness, Nashville. Are you in firing range of the raiders?"
"We'll be in range in five minutes," replied Commander, and he turned to Nashville to ask, "Can you tell the difference between a trawler and a raider at this distance?"
"Yes sir. But they're maneuvering too fast to expect a hit at such extreme range. We'd best add on another five minutes."
Commander was beaten to any response when Prince of Wales interrupted him with, "Are you a ship girl vessel, Nashville?" having overheard the exchange.
"Yes, I am," said Nashville.
Prince of Wales's voice softened, "Likewise. And once you're in range, you have permission to fire. Just don't hit the fishermen."
"Yes, ma'am," said Nashville and Las Vegas at the same time. What a coincidence it was to Commander, that the first Royal Navy ship girl he meets being one of the few he's ever heard of. But he couldn't rack his brain for memories, there was a job at hand.
Commander was now able to give some orders, "Can you tell what types of ships we're dealing with?"
"Their size is that of a destroyer and a light cruiser."
"Okay, that means we'll come in range of each other at about the same time." Commander thought for a few seconds and said, "I bet they won't start firing until they feel like they can hit us, so even if we don't land a hit, I want you to start firing even if we're at extreme range. It'll keep them on their toes and focused on us rather than the fishing fleet."
"Aye, sir," complied Nashville, not finding fault in his logic.
"Load HE shells. Notify me when we're in range."
Instead of words, Commander heard the breeches of Nashville's main and secondary batteries clanking shut. Now the easy part. They wait.
The five minutes passed, and Nashville said, "We're in range now sir."
"Excellent. Get a firing solution on the light cruiser. Then start rapid fire from turrets one and two. Assume a shallow zig-zag course to evade their return fire."
Nashville did as she was told. Then after about ten seconds of aiming, the now familiar blasts from six of Nashville's fifteen guns let out their cacophonous booms towards their enemy. Thick black smoke covered the view ahead of the ship. But that cloud was the first of many as Nashville started rapid fire, aiming her shots at the two attacking Sirens.
When the first shots landed in the water about twenty-five seconds later, it threw the Siren Raiders' plan for a loop. They had of course gotten Nashville on radar and heard the brief conversation over an open radio channel. And Commander was right to assume they would only fire once they were sure of hitting the target, but now with geysers of water landing nearby them, they had to enact evasive maneuvers, effectively pinning them down. It was decided in a rush, to close the distance with their attacker as speedily as possible. Once they set their new course, they started firing back now that they weren't moving erratically.
On Nashville's bridge she saw through her radar the course change of the raider duo. She reported to Las Vegas, "They've broken off from the fishing fleet and are closing with us. I'd rather not let them get in torpedo distance."
"Same here," replied Commander. He thought for a few seconds as the first return salvo from the raiders landed a few hundred yards beyond where they were. They had underestimated Nashville's speed. Commander said, "How long until they are in your effective range?"
"Two minutes at our present closing rate."
"Maintain the shallow zig-zag to evade their fire. But once the two minutes is up, let's give them a broadside."
Nashville grinned wickedly. Things were about to get good.
Commander returned to his post and he picked up a radio intercept as it was called out by Nashville on the huff-duff. As expected, it came from the raiders. He ordered, "Once you're in range, turn to starboard and commence continuous fire. Take whatever evasive you need. I need to make sure that they aren't up to anything funny."
He didn't hear Nashville's response as he got to work on his code. This code was a bit more difficult than usual because it was the first one he had to tackle while getting shot at. But a few factors mitigated his fears. First, it wasn't his first time cracking a code under stress. It was a low-level cypher, but not quite an emergency pushover. But the biggest factor was that he trusted Nashville to do her thing. He got to work with full confidence that they would win.
Two minutes passed and Nashville called out, "Hard starboard!" as a courtesy to her commander. The sudden change of inertia from a hard turn at high speed was exhilarating for the light cruiser. Her primary and secondary batteries raised their elevations to the appropriate level, and she began continuous fire.
To Commander, witnessing Nashville's continuous fire was no less glorious than it was the first time he saw it during the Battle of Windward Passage. His code still needed a few minutes, so he'd let Nashville shine.
The sudden change in direction from Nashville meant that she was now crossing the "T" of the Sirens. And when she opened fire, it was bound that she would at least get a few hits. She did.
The light cruiser that she had targeted was rocked with a dozen 105-shells striking it's deck and armor. The high-explosive shell indented the warship's side armor, but didn't penetrate, while the ones that hit topside did an excellent job at setting it on fire. One of the ship's turrets went out of commission as the fire raged around it. It would have to focus on damage control or the still growing inferno would start to threaten to explode ammunition by it's hellish heat.
Nashville ignored the return fire, which was getting closer to straddling her, signaling the enemy finding the right gunnery range. She kept firing at the light cruiser. She could tell that with the failing damage control efforts, it wasn't long for this world. The fire grew until the light cruiser's courage was all spent up like an engine out of fuel. It stopped it's charge and firing.
About this time Commander finished his code. He got on the radio to notify Prince of Wales of the situation. He half-yelled over Nashville's firing, "Prince of Wales, this is Nashville with a status update."
"Go ahead, Nashville," said the ship girl in question. Only now did Commander pick up a slightly different accent to the stereotypical English. If he were to hazard a guess, it was Welsh.
"An on-board codebreaker has picked up and cracked a message from the Siren Raiders. They're calling for submarine support. They hope to have it in the next half hour or so. Can I get an update on your eta?"
"We'll be on station in about twenty-five minutes. But I'll be in effective firing range in a few minutes" reported Prince of Wales. The line went silent and then Prince of Wales spoke again, "I'm dispatching a trio of destroyers to your position. They'll get there in under twenty minutes and they'll be under your command."
"Thank you, Prince of Wales. We'll take all the help we can get," replied Commander.
The line went dead, and Commander looked up, they were in visual range of the Siren vessels and he saw that Nashville had transferred her fire to the destroyer, that was rapidly closing for a hopeful torpedo run. The destroyer swung out wide, having gotten into range in time. Commander and Nashville watched it launch a spread of four torpedoes toward them. Luckily, they were still at a pretty extreme range for the torpedoes so it wouldn't be too hard to avoid, but now Nashville had lost the advantage of crossing the T with both ships parallel to each other.
Nashville had a choice. She could keep firing and worry about the torpedoes in a bit. A risky choice that might pay off. Or she could turn 180 degrees, have her T crossed for a few seconds as she lines up for a broadside and avoids the torpedo spread all together. She recalled when Helena tried to describe the pain of being hit by a torpedo. It was something she wanted to avoid. She decided to avoid the torpedoes now and brave the destroyer's relatively light main battery.
Commander had seen that Nashville was in the zone, so he didn't offer any words or orders as she analyzed the situation. Then she declared, "Hard port!" and the hull again changed direction in the water. This wasn't expected by the destroyer, who had thought that the Eagle Union vessel would want to maintain her volume of fire advantage at all costs. The rapid maneuver did it's job of avoiding the torpedo spread and throwing off the aim of the destroyer's 127-millimeter main battery.
Nashville finished swinging around just as she felt a familiar tingling. She excitedly voiced, "Raining fire is all charged up, sir!"
"Let em have it!" ordered Las Vegas.
"The fastest guns on the sea!" bellowed Nashville. Her fire rate then took up the impossible 300 rounds per minute. Impossible for conventional Naval artillery that is. But not a ship girl.
With a solitary target and a skill that lasts fifteen seconds, the destroyer didn't stand a chance. High explosive shells ignited the deck and a few shells falling on the same spot finally punctured the side armor, getting inside. It stopped dead in the water, the engine room demolished. The coup de grace was when a shell landed onto a second topside torpedo launcher. Chemicals that weren't meant to be exposed to the open air mixed together on the Siren's deck and exploded. The blast was big enough so that Commander, now armed with binoculars, could see daylight where a ship's breadth of steel occupied a few seconds before. Nashville stopped firing and the destroyer sank, folding in half so that the once separated deck met again as it bent around the keel.
Attention shifted to the still floating light cruiser. It was giving off a firework display as ammunition was cooking off. A minute of watching gratified the duo with the spectacle of the forward turret being spontaneously disassembled by an internal explosion. That explosion ignited the magazine below and it went off. The cruiser, now rent in twain, joined the destroyer beneath the waves not long after.
Commander let Nashville celebrate for a moment before requesting a high-five for the spectacular performance. It was given and then Commander had to make a choice. Should he radio Prince of Wales first, or the Ruby Harriet? He chose the Ruby Harriet.
Commander shifted to the open channel and said, "Ruby Harriet, this is Nashville. Are you there?"
The same seaman from earlier responded, "Good show, sir. Thanks for the save."
"Anytime, Ruby Harriet. We'll stick around until the main royal fleet shows up. Sorry to shake your boat some more, but the Sirens did call for some submarines so keep a sharp eye out."
"I figured as much," sighed the sailor, "But thanks for the notice."
Prince of Wales came over the open channel, "Ruby Harriet, we're dispatching coast guard for your position. Transfer to Maritime HF channel 19 for them."
"Yes, ma'am," complied the sailor.
Another ten minutes longer passed and a trio of ships flying the royal lion standard appeared on the horizon. Commander ordered the shifting to a Navy radio channel for the approaching vessels. The channels were shifted, and brief introductions occurred with Ardent, Crescent, and Hunter.
Commander set up a loose ring of the destroyers and Nashville around the Ruby Harriet and the rest of her fleet as a coast guard helicopter arrived overhead to assist with recovery and then transport of wounded. It carried on unabated until more royal lion banners fluttered on the wind over the horizon. Commander armed himself with binoculars again and he got a good look at a rather blocky looking battleship. Who was he to judge a battleship on how she looks? But still widely accepted is the general rule of thumb that bigger is better. Wait. That would be very different in other contexts. Then again, he did take Nevada over West Virginia. Commander stopped himself. His thoughts were quickly going into a gutter. So, he concluded that when someone needs a battleship, a battleship no matter her size is better than nothing. That last thought was no better. He busied himself with a new thought, "At what point does objectifying a ship girl's hull become objectifying the woman herself?"
Nashville saw that her Commander hadn't said anything yet and when she looked over, she noticed that he had that look that showed he was overthinking something. She decided to let him stew in his thoughts while she basked in the look on his face. It made her want to laugh. She was content to see how long it took for him to snap out of it, but Prince of Wales did that for him. She said, "I see a dazzle painted light cruiser. Nashville, is that you?"
That did the job of getting Commander out of his rut. Nashville fought giggles as he had the oh-no-somebody-is-talking-to-me kind of panicked expression. He looked at Nashville and she gestured to the radio transponder. She didn't say anything, but he got the message. He needed to respond. He said, "Right you are, Prince of Wales. I assume that you're the battleship?"
He said this as the rest of the fleet with Prince of Wales came into view. Among their numbers were a handful of heavy and light cruisers and she was kind enough to have sent his way half of her destroyer force to fend off any submarines. She responded, "Yes, I am. We want to thank you again for your help."
This time Nashville answered, "Any time. Me and my commander like to do the right thing. So, when we saw that we could help, we did it."
"It's good to know that there are still good people on the other side of the pond," replied Prince of Wales.
"Would you please humor me a question?" requested Commander.
"Go ahead."
"When was the last time you saw or interacted with an Eagle Union vessel?"
"It must have been nearly a year and a half now for a normal manned vessel and about two for a union ship girl."
"Hmph," remarked Commander, "It kind of makes you feel like the Azur Lane alliance only exists on paper. Doesn't it?"
"I couldn't agree more, Commander," concurred the battleship. She then asked, "I'd love to chat and find out more about how the war fares in the west, but I have to ask: Where is your destination?"
"We're looking to dock in HMNB Devonport."
"Fancy that," replied Prince of Wales, "that's our home port."
Commander and Nashville shared a look that communicated they'll try to get Prince of Wales's help to get into the base. Commander said, "Once we're finished up here, could we please tag along to port? Assuming that's where you're going next?"
"In return for your help today, I can get you in," said Prince of Wales, "but you'll have to have audience with the Queen."
Commander was confused and frankly, quite terrified at the prospect, and voiced such with, "Like Her Majesty, The Queen of England?"
Prince of Wales laughed over the radio, but once she was finished, she said, "No, I mean HMS Queen Elizabeth, she's the fleet representative."
Commander let out an audible breath over the radio and replied, "Well that's a relief." He looked to Nashville and she sent him a thumbs up to show that she was alright with Prince of Wales's condition. With Nashville's agreement to go along with this he returned to the radio, "We'll submit to this condition. Thanks for getting us to our destination."
"You're welcome. But we still have to finish up here."
They would be on station for nearly another hour as the helicopter ferried people from sea to the shore. The fleet provided escort at all stages while a few of the destroyers were able to add a sunk submarine or two to their names. But eventually the time to depart arrived and with the final gratitude and three cheers from the crews of the Ruby Harriet and her companions they set off to the east towards Devonport.
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As they were arriving at Devonport, Prince of Wales gave them orders to dock in the space adjacent to the battleship so that she could first meet them in person and then guide them to Queen Elizabeth, who was expecting them. This was agreed to without complaint and Nashville felt herself being tied in and her gangway dropped.
"Well, we made it," remarked the officer.
"We did," replied Nashville, then she grew sincere, "And I won't lie, even considering the ending, this was the smoothest Atlantic crossing I've had since the late 1930's. Thanks for making that possible."
"No problem," said Las Vegas, and he laughed a bit, "It'd be funny in a pathetic sort of way if we were to die by a submarine's torpedo when you consider what we're supposed to fight."
"Good point. But let's not keep Prince of Wales waiting." Commander nodded and he led the way out of the bridge and descended the tower, making sure to have Laffey's letter labelled, "Javelin," along with the Writ of Commandeering, should he need it. Nashville spoke up on the way down, "I've heard of Prince of Wales. She was part of the intercept force to stop the Bismarck and Prinz Eugen from breaking into the Atlantic."
"Me too. It's an odd coincidence. The first ship girl of the Royal Navy I meet is one of the three that I have actually heard off."
"Who're the others?"
"Hood and Ark Royal. I guess they can thank Bismarck for that."
"No kidding." Then the conversation tapered off as they duo reached the deck and approached the gangway. Already at the bottom was a striking woman in a red officer's jacket with a similarly colored cape and a black skirt. She had shoulder length blonde hair that was gold like the sun. Commander noticed an officer's sabre on her hip and based on the side she wore it on, he could ascertain that she was left-handed. Approaching showed that she also had red eyes like Nashville. But to Commander, Nashville's eyes were familiar, while this woman's weren't. But Commander was able to continue in his belief that there are no unattractive ship girls.
They got to the bottom of the gangway and Prince of Wales gave a salute to the officer, which both Commander and Nashville returned. Commander spoke first, "Prince of Wales?"
"Yes," she replied, in a clinical sounding tone. She inspected the newcomers and found something amiss, but she would get to that in a moment. She extended a hand toward Nashville, and said, "It's nice to meet you, Nashville. Thank you for your help with the raiders."
"You're welcome. And it's nice to meet you too."
Prince of Wales shifted her attention to the officer. "Thank you for your help as well," she said and extended her hand again and remarked, "Since you have no name on your uniform, am I wrong to assume that your name is classified?"
"You're right on the money," responded Commander as he shook her hand.
Prince of Wales thought for a few seconds and said, "Would you be averse to being called, 'Jack,' when I present you to Queen Elizabeth?"
Commander considered the question. He preferred, "Las Vegas," but if another name made it harder to pin down who he was then, "I've gotten more used to responding to, 'Commander,' or, 'Las Vegas,' but, 'Jack,' is fine." He decided to leave the decision to fate. Or rather, in the hands of Prince of Wales.
"'Jack,' it is then," settled Prince of Wales, "Well, we'd best not keep Her Majesty waiting."
"Very well," said Commander. And after a few seconds of walking he said, "I hope you'll pardon my rudeness for delaying in saying this but, 'it's a pleasure to meet you.'"
Prince of Wales's voice softened as she responded, "The pleasure is mine."
They had left the docks behind when Commander got Prince of Wales's attention and asked, "How often does it happen that fishermen are targeted by raiders?"
"Far too often," said the battleship solemnly, "When we got the mayday, we were returning from relieving a supply convoy crossing the English Channel from Cherbourg."
Nashville perked up. She's been to Cherbourg, back in the late 30's. She asked, "The last time I was in Cherbourg it was 1938. What's the city like nowadays?"
Prince of Wales looked over her shoulder and said, "It's a lot different than the 1930's to be sure. But the biggest difference is how it's essentially a fortress now."
"I get the feeling that a number of Europe's coastal cities are fortified. Am I wrong?" asked Commander.
"It's an unfortunate fact of life these days. The Sirens will bombard the cities on occasion to try and draw us out."
"Does it work?"
"Not as much anymore. If you ask me, it's taken us far too long to adapt to the situation and stop losing good sailors and ship girls, not to mention innocent people." Prince of Wales paused. To Commander, it seemed that she was reflecting on what could have been. Maybe her part in all of it? Then she changed the subject by asking, "So, how fares the war in the west?"
Nashville responded to this question, "The Sirens don't blockade ports or bombard cities, but they do a number on supply convoys with their submarine wolfpacks, what with the Navy stretched as thin as it is. And if what I hear is true, they're slowly but surely whittling down the Eagle Union's numbers."
Commander concluded, "So in few words, things are in a stalemate there, just not a bad as it seems to be here. Not to say that things are mishandled here. I think that the Sirens are doing something different here. Like it's some big game or test."
"I wouldn't put it past them to do something like an experiment," said Prince of Wales. She felt to change the subject again, so she asked, "What sort of business are you two here for? If you don't mind me saying, you're one of the stranger outfits I've seen in my time."
"That's classified."
"Is it Eagle Union business?"
"Azur Lane business," replied Las Vegas.
"Queen Elizabeth is not going to like that it's classified Azur Lane business," deadpanned Prince of Wales.
"Why is Azur Lane versus Eagle Union important?" inquired Nashville.
"Her Majesty, for all her skills at leading us and the respect she commands, doesn't much like to have her authority to know the goings-on challenged. So, if it were Eagle Union business, she would probably try to get you to say something, but if you held your tongues, she'd probably kick you out of the port. But she respects and is subject to Azur Lane much more than the Eagle Union. So, with Azur Lane business, she can't exercise that authority as decisively. So, she won't like you, but ultimately can't or won't do much about it."
"Is she the agreeable sort?" asked Commander, somewhat alarmed at the situation and the sort of authority given to a fleet representative.
Prince of Wales now looked over to Commander sympathetically and said, "I advise you tread carefully. Her Majesty hasn't been very impressed with Eagle Union assistance as of late, and she will dislike any attempts that she sees as intrusion. And I cannot defend you in any measure unless directed because as one of her Royal Knights I am oath bound to uphold her orders with few things that can overrule her authority." Commander cackled internally. He'd bet good money that a Writ of Commandeering is one of those things.
Still, something Prince of Wales said stoked his curiosity. "Knights?" he asked.
"Yes, I, my sisters, and a few others, have been knighted to serve Queen Elizabeth. We or another member of Queen Elizabeth's household are usually appointed to lead in battle," she said. Commander didn't much understand the functionality of knights or royalty in the modern age, but if that is how the ship girls of the Royal Navy have chosen to organize themselves, then so be it. He recalled that one of the main tenants of the Eagle Union's founding fathers was that a government ought to be founded on the consent of the governed. This situation appeared to be that tenant in action. But one thing was for certain, the United Kingdom gives much more autonomy to their ship girls than the Eagle Union. His and Nashville's stay here will be interesting indeed.
Not much more time nor conversation came to pass until Prince of Wales lead them to a building. But not any old building. This was an ornate hall with a small, yet beautiful courtyard in front. The fine workmanship and decorations about the premises reminded him of photos of actual royal palaces. It seemed that the Royal Navy takes the apparent, "royalty," of Queen Elizabeth very seriously.
Prince of Wales pushed open the doors and led the duo inside. Commander got a good look at Nashville's expression on the way in. She was astonished by the whole affair. He was too. No words were exchanged, so great was their astonishment. Prince of Wales led the way down a main corridor that terminated at a large pair of double doors, equal in splendor to the rest of the place. Their guide stopped and turned around. She gave them final pointers in talking to Queen Elizabeth. Start with a bow, say, "Your Majesty," or, "Your Highness," let her speak first, don't interrupt her, just be respectful.
Commander didn't like this. Was it too late to back out now? Nashville was in way over her head. She resolved that while she would have his back if it came down to it, Las Vegas would do the talking. She patted his shoulder to get his attention and said, "I got your back. But don't feel obligated to include my input."
Commander took the hint and said to her, "Thanks for having my back." He turned to Prince of Wales and said, "Well, let's get this started."
"Good man," she said. And she pushed open the door to usher them inside.
Inside was a grand hall that was flanked on both sides by marble pillars that must have reach skyward nearly fifteen yards and the floor was also made of marble, and even though there were designs very pleasing to the eye, Commander found it gaudy. Tapestries occupied the space where grand stained-glass windows didn't reveal the outside world. The designs of the hall were such that they eye was naturally guided toward the center of the far side, to a throne. It was gilded and adorned with velvety red upholstery and it's design struck him more as homage to a, "real," queen's throne than anything else. It was surrounded by nearly a dozen women, all beautiful, by the way, and they adorned themselves with varying styles, the most distinctive of which were several dressed in risqué Victorian Maid outfits. But even these women were arranged to demonstrate deference to their queen.
Speaking of the queen, if it wasn't for her crown or her scepter or for her act of sitting in the throne, he wouldn't have guessed her to be any sort of monarch. The petite blonde sat with her arms crossed over her chest and her legs were likewise crossed. To Commander's eyes, she didn't look a day over sixteen. She didn't say anything yet, nevertheless harsh judgement rolled out from her gaze towards the entering duo.
Prince of Wales led them until they were but ten paces from the Queen Elizabeth's throne. Prince of Wales did what was expected and said, "Your Majesty. I present to you those who assisted with the relief of the situation south of Falmouth. These are Nashville and Commander Jack."
Commander and Nashville took the cue to give their bows, as unpracticed and awkward as they were. And when Commander raised his head after a few seconds he saw that the gesture had pleased her and now a smile was sent their way. But it wasn't a warm one, it was one of condescension. Commander didn't like this woman already. She spoke regally with an accent to match. She said, "Well met, Commander Jack and Nashville. I am thankful for your assistance with aiding my countrymen."
Commander had dealt with people of this ilk before. He went to an Ivy League graduate school after all, full of the proudest intellectuals that the Eagle Union had to offer. Emphasis on proudest. So, if he wanted this to go his way, he'd have to swallow his own pride and delve into flattery to keep the teenage looking queen placated. He said, "The pleasure to meet Your Highness is ours. But please, think nothing of our actions to assist those in need. We merely wished to do what was right. And we thank you for permitting us to dock here in Devonport after our crossing."
"But of course," replied Queen Elizabeth, "Our nations are allies in the end, are they not?"
Now that was a smart move on Elizabeth's part. By challenging Commander on a question that they both knew the answer for, she could ensnare him in his own words to force him into divulging any secrets of the Eagle Union that he may hold. After all, what good are allies that conceal from each other? She had already assumed that the duo's business was that of the Eagle Union. Commander saw this and engaged the queen in a game of verbal chess.
Commander decided that the smartest move would be to divert any attention away from motives for the meeting, so he dived into much smaller talk, "Indeed our nations are allies. And if I may, how much time has passed since any Eagle Union ships has passed through here?" This question was a one-two punch of benefits. First, he diverts away from the immediacy of his admission of alliances between their countries even though the super dreadnaught and the codebreaker did not trust each other. And he was able to ask in a roundabout way concerning Task Force 13.
Queen Elizabeth was starting to take this man more seriously. She saw that he didn't let his mouth run mindlessly. So, unlike most Eagle Unionists, she'd have to play her cards right to get him to spill his guts about whatever it is he wants. From the first report to her from Prince of Wales, this man and his one vessel command has set off alarms in the monarch's head. The appearance of an officer commanding one ship girl hints to something just crazy enough that the Eagle Union would try it. Now to what end? Queen Elizabeth responded, "In the isles contact hasn't been made with more than one Union vessel at a time in more than a year. Notwithstanding the efforts of brave cargo vessels. I can tell by your performance that you don't command a cargo operation. So, what is your business?" Then in the queen's mind she shouted, "Ha! Dodge that one Jack!"
The queen found it most effective to go for the throat it would seem. Commander had to be extra careful. He admitted, "Our business is to assist in this theater of the war. However, as you've no doubt noticed, we don't have the numbers to effect change on a grand scale alone. So, I would like to request your help so that we can help you." He wasn't lying. But it was just vague enough to keep what the queen wants out of her reach.
Elizabeth was disappointed that Commander Jack had dodged it. And she was getting the impression that this man and his light cruiser weren't here on Eagle Union business. The Union likes to make a big show and spout their propaganda about freedom whenever they rear their heads to help. But this wasn't the case with the newcomers. She had to ascertain what sort of help is on the table right now, and under whose orders this man was operating under, and quickly, before the bane of her existence showed up. Elizabeth observed, "You were presented as, 'Jack,' for lack of a name on your uniform. I can tell that what you're doing is classified. But tell me, by whose authority is it classified?"
"Azur Lane High Command, Your Majesty."
Damn. She was hoping for specifics and for it to be concerning the Eagle Union. She had more leverage that way. But there was something else he said that concerned her. She asked, "You said something about mutual help. What do you mean? And be specific, I grow tired of this."
"It's as I said. We want to help with this theater, but we lack the numbers," said Las Vegas. And then he gulped, this was the risky part. "We request that these numbers be from among your ranks."
Elizabeth clenched her jaw. This last sentence did NOT please her in the slightest. She challenged out with growing anger on her voice, "And I assume that you would be in command of these numbers?"
"Yes, they would be. And furthermore, given the top-secret nature of the operation, they would be sworn to secrecy, like myself or my companion."
The risky part blew up in Commander's face. Queen Elizabeth clenched her fists and grew red with anger. She then rose from her throne and bellowed out, "How dare you?! A yank that crosses the ocean, is not here for an hour, is not familiar with the sacrifices of our people and comrades, or how we do things, and you have the audacity to demand cooperation and command! With not even an explanation to offer in return!" Queen Elizabeth took a breath to continue and before Commander could interrupt her, she continued with her tirade, "You are a thief! A usurper! No better than a pirate! You were presented as, 'Commander Jack,' but from here on in this realm or wherever any may profess fealty to the crown, you shall be, 'Calico Jack!' Named for the bloody pirate that you are."
Silence hung thickly in the air. Among ships turned women, calling someone a pirate was the gravest of all insults. Nashville was furious for this and was about to begin her own shouting but after a few moments with curdling thoughts of pure unbridled rage for even daring to insinuate that her commander was anything but honorable; Las Vegas started to speak.
Back in his university days commander was educated by his various roommates about the art of comebacks, insults, and flexes. He wasn't very good at it. With jocks or the social crowd, that is. But Commander was neither of these. He was an intellectual. And he knew how to speak like one. He saw that the queen viewed herself as regal, high cultured, and possessed of all the virtues thereof. He couldn't flex on a battleship with physical might, not in a million years. Nor could he demonstrate his intellect in such an emergency that demanded immediate response. He settled on a cultural flex. So, he combed through his list of high-cultured insults and threats and found one to his liking. He said as clearly and proudly and defiantly as he could, "Thou calldst me a dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs."
Gasps then silence filled the throne room. Except Queen Elizabeth. She graced them with quiet stammering. Off to the side, next to who he assumed was her sister, Prince of Wales whispered, "Holy shit. York, did he just quote Shakespeare?"
"Methinks he did," replied the one Prince of Wales called, 'York.'
Queen Elizabeth sank into her throne, having lost the skirmish of words in one broadside. Her insult fell flat and she was completely and perfectly blindsided by the words of a pirate. Then at the end of the hall, the double doors burst open and a man in a Royal Navy uniform waltzed in like he owned the place.
Commander was still looking at Queen Elizabeth when the doors burst open. He saw her tense up and of all things, dread came to her face. He took a moment to turn around slowly and he saw that the same was true of all present. He finally turned around fully to see a man in an officer's uniform saunter over. Commander didn't like this man already.
He was heavier set and his rotundness spread itself to his face where something odd happened. Round cheeks conflicted with what would have been sharp features on a thinner man. But with a smug grin and eyes that slowly meandered over the assembled ship girls plus Commander, he was able to conclude that this man's face was very punchable.
The man stopped his walk a few steps away from Commander. Las Vegas saw that this man's rank insignia was that of a commodore. A superior rank. So, he saluted as was required of him and the fat officer saluted back. He opened his mouth and said, "I apologize for Queen Elizabeth overstepping her bounds. Nonetheless I welcome to Devonport. I'm Commodore Jeremy Smithers. I'm in charge of these women. And you are?"
This was a development indeed. There were apparent limits to the autonomy of the United Kingdom's ship girl forces. Commander said, "I'm Commander. But just recently I've been dubbed, 'Calico Jack,' by the locals." He didn't even want to give this man a fake name meant as an insult for God's sake!
"What's your name, Commander?"
"It's classified. I'm afraid."
Queen Elizabeth noticed that Calico Jack's responses were much swifter and less thought out with Commodore Smithers than with her. She was able to take pride in the fact that this newcomer was more careful around her than with the pig of an officer she had to call her superior.
"Is that so?" remarked Smithers. "What can I do for you?"
"What my companion, Nashville, and I hope to do is stay here in Devonport, or somewhere else in the isles, and go about the completion of our mission in this region. That mission is also classified."
Smithers wasn't paying attention though. He stopped when Commander had introduced Nashville. She was beautiful and oh so sexy in his opinion. What he wouldn't give to have her companionship for the evening. His lust built up like an overheating boiler. So, he stared at her.
Nashville noticed this. And she didn't like it. Instinctively her arms came up to cross themselves over her breasts. But this man's eyes found other places to busy themselves. And meanwhile Las Vegas continued with his explanation. She wanted to place Las Vegas in between herself and the commodore but her attention was caught when Las Vegas said, "Am I to assume that you only ever had two grandparents? You sure look and act the part."
Nashville was amazed that her commander would ever say anything like that to a superior officer. But it took all of two seconds for her to see that it had no effect upon Smithers. His attention was still fixated squarely on her.
Seeing that his insult had no effect on the man Commander did something physical to call Smithers out on his lechery. He side-stepped to place himself in front of Nashville. Only now did Smithers pay attention to Commander. Smithers feared getting called out on what he was doing, and his fears were in the right place. Commander said, "I once heard that an army of Canadian soldiers with Eagle Union equipment led by British Officers could conquer the world. And while I can't comment on the Canadians and I don't see Eagle Union equipment around, you don't fit that bill as a British Officer. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Smithers went red and stuttered, "I-I-I-I-"
"Will you seriously not defend yourself even when given the opportunity?"
Smithers found himself and ordered, "It was a pleasure to know you Commander. But I'm ordering you to leave. Get out of my port."
"I'm afraid I can't do that Commodore Smithers. I have a job to do."
"You're disobeying a direct order? I'll have you court martialed," threatened Smithers.
"I think not," rebutted Commander as he got out his Writ of Commandeering. He showed it to Smithers and said, "I require your cooperation."
Smithers's orders were now officially moot. He gritted his teeth and seethed in anger. Commander finished the exchange with, "Now if you don't mind Commodore, I was enjoying a pleasant conversation with Queen Elizabeth. If I need your help, I'll seek you out."
"You'll pay for this," he growled.
"That has yet to be determined," dismissed Commander, "Have a good day."
Smithers huffed and stalked out of the hall.
Nashville crossed the step between herself and her commander and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome," he whispered back.
Nashville's hand fell off his shoulder and he turned back to Queen Elizabeth. She was fighting laughter with both hands crossed over her mouth. "I won't think less of you for letting it out," informed Commander.
Queen Elizabeth took her invitation and began to howl with laughter. She finished and declared, "Blimey! That was the best thing I've seen in months! For a pirate, you're not so bad after all!" And she started laughing again with a few of the surrounding ship girls giggling along.
Once she calmed down, there was a shared moment of silence between the queen and the codebreaker. But it wasn't stifling. Commander spoke first, "I've recently been struck with some inspiration to handle this a bit differently. Would it be unreasonable of me to request we restart this conversation over?"
"They say that great minds think alike, for that same inspiration has struck me. So, in that same vein, I would like to invite the both of you to a tea party in an hour, to discuss this matter in a more civilized manner," said the once again regal queen.
Commander looked over to Nashville for her input. Without words they agreed and nodded to each other at the same time. Commander said, "We would be honored."
"Marvelous! But is there anything of immediate importance that you wish to say?"
"A friend in the Eagle Union Navy asked me to deliver a letter once I got to England. Is there a destroyer named, 'Javelin,' on base?"
"There is," said Queen Elizabeth. She turned to look first at the woman next to Prince of Wales and she said, "Duke of York," and then she looked at the other side of her to a maid, "Sirius." Both women stepped forward and the queen commanded, "Accompany the commander and Nashville to Javelin to deliver her letter. Then escort them to where we normally host guests for the tea party."
Both women bowed and offered their affirmative responses. They turned to join with Las Vegas and Nashville. But before they left Commander had one last thing to say to Queen Elizabeth, "I look forward to working alongside Your Majesty."
"And I you, Calico Jack. Perhaps a pirate is just what we need."
Greetings. It's good to see you again. Anyway, this chapter presented me with a special challenge to write mainly thanks to Queen Elizabeth, the tsundere queen herself. If you've read a lot of Azur Lane fanfiction, you'll see that there are two main ways to handle her character. You can treat her as the overbearing queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland or as a stereotypical tsundere character that is just misunderstood. I tried to approach her a bit differently. I tried to make her opinionated but still ultimately reasonable. Brash, but not excessively so. And what's more I tried to make her just a little cunning. So, how did this go?
But whatever the case may be. Here we are. The UK. I have some ideas for this one. Let me tell you, I can't wait. But anyway, I see some comments.
Hello, assassin4321. I'm happy that you liked the chapter and have been looking forward for this one. And thanks for helping to put my fears to rest about the transition to the UK. You do bring up a good point with the eventual journey to the Sakura Empire and as things stand, I'm still crunching ideas. But I'll keep yours in mind. Thanks for the suggestions.
Hi there, SomeRand0m. It's good to have you back here again. I have to say, it's kind of funny the ways people will get any sort of history to be easier to swallow. So, if hot waifus is what it takes, so be it. I respect your love of the Royal Navy in game. I personally can't say that I have a favorite faction for the history, but I really like the sorts of abilities among the Eagle Union and Royal Navy (with exceptions). To be honest, I'm not a fan of the abilities that are faction specific, like ones that enhance a certain faction's armor or firepower but not others. But about being in the UK now, I think it's pretty obvious that the UK and the Eagle Union treat their ship girl forces differently. Same with the other factions. Thanks for helping with my concerns about the transition. The iron blood ship girls would have beaten Slade easily. I'm happy you liked that part with the drinking. I'm also glad you liked the wholesomeness with Honolulu. I walked into the story not thinking much about her, but she's definitely climbed the ranks of ship girls that I like. But about Nashville's alcoholic antics and dream and it not doing anything for the relationship. I want to draw your attention to the fact that she presently has no idea what she's feeling, just that she's feeling something. She knows about the concept of romance; she does listen to country music after all. But she doesn't know what it feels like to love someone that way. Thus, her ignorance. At least, that's what I'm going for. Thanks for being cool about my vagueness. But as for the cringiness of countrymen, I'm the same way with a lot of Americans, but hey, what are you going to do? There's not much you can do. I'm glad for the feedback, take up as much space as you need. Thanks for taking the time to write it. I look forward to seeing your writing again.
I'll admit Zander22122, you're the best at catching my references. But with something as over the top as drinking. I had to make a Lord of the Rings reference. Thanks for being cultured. No problem about being new to the fandom and having your own opinions about fanfics. Thanks for elaborating what "the letter H" meant. It was pretty funny. And thanks for the compliment about being awesome. You're pretty awesome yourself.
It's nice to meet you, vietthai96. Thanks for liking the chapter. Las Vegas will probably end up meeting at least a few of those ship girls, just probably not in the UK. But we will be skipping around in Europe, so stand by. I think I've said it before, but Nashville is the only permanent ship girl under his command. But in Europe, with much smaller distances between countries, collaboration is much more likely. I have plans. Good luck to you too.
Hey there SarkicShade. It's good to see your typing words. I'm glad you thought the chapter was a fun read, it sure was a fun write for me. What you say about my summarizations and flashbacks is a great comfort. I try to keep those scenes to a minimum because with too many, I think it gets too confusing to follow. But you are right, Las Vegas is going to have some trouble with a select few ship girls. I'm still trying to figure out how to handle the yandere characters along with these clingier girls. It'll be a nice challenge. The accent is a factor that I'm grateful you recognize. Because the game is in Japanese, we don't get the ship girls speaking in what would be their native accents, so visualizing these has always been something I've done. I really like Roscoe and Hara and it's nice that their appearance was impactful. Alpha is terrifying. But I look forward to seeing how her character progresses too. I see where you're coming from about the internet fueled transition. I'm of course going to switch it up to keep things interesting to take the heroes from place to place. In fact, I already have the next transition planned. But you probably won't read it for another two or so months. Thanks again for your review.
Thank you so much for your kind words, HeronLsL. It really makes my day to hear that someone likes my story so much. But of all things that I feel like I have to get right for me to be proud of this story is for the dynamic between the main heroes to be satisfying. The American love of buddy-cop crime drama TV shows is a big inspiration for how they tackle problems and for how Nashville and Las Vegas get along. It made my day even better to see that you became curious about a ship that I anthropomorphize. Since I have the luxury with written words to dive into details that cinema cannot, Nashville's character is that much more important. And the ship's own history is certainly a contributor to what she's like and how she feels about things. I'm glad you like the rhythm. And I'm also curious to see where this story goes. I too look forward to the next chapter.
Thanks for answering my question, Guest. I'll admit, I kind of expected Dreadnought. Especially given how consequential she was on Naval Architecture for nearly forty years. In my honest opinion, if we can have a ship girl like Mikasa in game, I think we should have Dreadnought. But Warspite, I didn't expect. Interesting. I'll have to look into this. Thanks again for answering the question.
Well, it's late again where I am. And I've typed everything that's on my mind. 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.
