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"We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend out island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender…"

-Winston Churchill

Chapter 17: The Battle of the Thames

"Well, that was the creepiest man that I've ever met," observed Commander after the guy that he had played darts against left the pub. Resounding agreement came from the garrison of ship girls.

"That guy feels like bad news. What do you think?" asked Nashville.

"Are the Gestapo evil?"

"Obviously," answered Nashville.

"And likewise, that guy was bad. I might not be the best judge of character, but I could tell that something was off," stated Commander, when in a manner not too dissimilar to what made him take Nevada over West Virginia, his gut started to talk to him. "Like. Inhuman off," he concluded.

"You don't think…" trailed off Nashville.

"Not definitively," he said to Nashville. But then to the rest of the garrison he said, "Please be on your guard. Something isn't right."

"We'll be ready," promised Belfast. "But I must politely request that you refrain from playing darts with strange men."

"Stranger danger. Words to live by," responded Commander, before he gave his joking smile, and said, "Literally."

Commander's joke did help in sway the tone back to joviality, nevertheless the stranger's appearance and then disappearance soured what could have been much better. Nevertheless, the duo was able to meet more of the London Garrison. Nelson, Swiftsure, and Exeter were already known, but among them were a light cruiser named, Black Prince, and the destroyers Musketeer, Comet, and Hardy. For the sake of making sure that duty wasn't abandoned, Sussex, a heavy cruiser, Gloucester, another Royal Maid, and the destroyers Icarus and Echo weren't able to join them. But eventually the meal and light drinking concluded and the whole garrison plus the visitors traveled back to the Pool of London together.

Nelson had drunk the most and instead of possibly relaxing, alcohol was like the potion that turned the respectable Dr. Jekyll into his nefarious alter-ego Mr. Hyde. Nelson was irritated at Calico Jack the whole way there, but the interventions Belfast, Hood, and surprisingly, Swiftsure, proved to frustrate the battleship's plan to prove Calico Jack worthless. Nashville remained only "slightly tipsy" and was passing the point where she wasn't comfortable anywhere else than right beside her commander but was successfully maintaining her normal accent. She hadn't taken to introducing him to London, thankfully. But Commander could see that staying up late wasn't on the agenda.

Once they had arrived, they all parted for the night but with Hood and Belfast staying on Nashville's hull because they still only had their riggings active with no way to deploy their own hulls and maintain the secret that is the existence of the ship girls. And after assuring that Hood and Belfast were alright on their own, Las Vegas made sure that Nashville reached her cabin without issue. Stairs proved difficult so his shoulder was used as a mobile balancing point. Goodnights were exchanged and they went to sleep.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning, Nashville proved to be not nearly as bad as she was the day after the celebration in Miami but still, morning exercise was a no-go for the light cruiser. Since she wasn't too bad, Commander decided that they could forego the strong coffee and just get by with a good meal and letting Nashville take her time. But once Nashville had separated, Belfast approached with an offer that she take part in the morning exercises. Belfast still intimidated the man so he was of the mind to decline but as his own green eyes met her blue, he could see that whatever her motives were, they weren't harmful. And besides, he had said he would like to train further with her. He accepted and they parted to change into PT gear.

They met in the same place that they had sparred the morning before and like the day before, Belfast came adorned in short shorts and a crop top with a sports bra. But despite Belfast's undeniable beauty and incredible body—both of which Nashville had, by the way—his eyes were drawn to something else. He asked, "Could you please explain what the broken chain around your neck means?"

Belfast smiled like that was exactly what she wanted him to say. She lightly challenged back, "I'll tell you if you answer one of my questions too. I promise, nothing about business." It was the perfect opportunity for Belfast to get on with Queen Elizabeth's orders to find out what his feelings were for Cheshire. She wanted to help. But Calico Jack would have to let her.

He considered his options. Accepting means the risk of Belfast spinning the question however she wanted. Declining makes it that much more difficult to work with her. Especially if she should be considered among those to go fight whatever superweapon they are up against. Which they still know nothing about, and presently have no way to find out anything. He'd have to come up with a plan. But later. He got his mind back on task and he said, "Would now be a bad time to invoke the rule of conduct that ladies go first?" If Belfast consents to this, he wins the encounter and can decline to answer at the cost of not knowing about her chain. A small price for what's at stake. But would she consent?

She smiled again and said, "That would be a smart move on your part. To invoke such etiquette. Very well. I'll ask first." Belfast fell quiet for a few moments as she found a proper way to phrase her question to get the information that she wants without tipping Calico Jack to anything. She looked back towards him with the question and she started, "By what I've seen, you seem to strive to make friendships with each ship girl you meet. Would you please explain why you do this?" Such a question was quite genius on Belfast's part because while very general and arguably time-wasting she was inviting Calico Jack to share a story, one that will likely include a personality as, um, eccentric as Cheshire.

Calico Jack considered the question and how it could be spun. He noted that he could approach this from a few different angles. In all honesty he could turn this into an exposition heavy flashback that stretches all the way back to his childhood but, "ain't nobody got time for that." He decided that he would answer, but much more specifically. He responded after his few seconds of consideration, "Okay then. I'll answer. You see, there is a practical side of it all. It's a fact that anybody works better alongside those they get along with. But there is also the fact of the matter that I have an affable nature. Such tendencies make me happy, and people, ship girls specifically, tend to respond better to friends more than superiors." He thought for a few seconds, feeling the need to justify his thought process, and then he continued, "For example, there is this one destroyer-escort in the Eagle Union named, 'Eldridge.' By what the rest told me where we were last, she is quite timid by nature, but there was something special when she and I began to trust each other as friends. Or I suppose, for a more immediate example…" he trailed off for a few seconds. That told Belfast that whoever he was trying to think of either didn't occupy his mind much, or he didn't know how to describe their friendship. And he said something about an immediate example, and that left people that Belfast herself knew. It wasn't guaranteed, but a maid's intuition told her that a certain PR cruiser was on the pirate's thoughts. He began to speak again, "And then there are the slightly different friendships that I enjoy. Most of the time, I'm the initiator of any friendliness, but I seem to have fallen before the charisma of the likes of Cheshire." Bingo. That's what Belfast wanted to hear. Calico Jack continued, "She asked me to be her friend in her own way. At least, that's what I think she meant, assuming that being her quote-unquote, 'owner,' does indeed mean what Sirius explained while I was stammering thinking it meant something else. And I will not deny any request for friendship, assuming that they're cool enough. And Cheshire seems pretty cool by what I've seen so far."

For the first time since she had met Calico Jack, she had gotten exactly what she wanted. So, when it came to personal things, he wasn't as guarded as he would be about business. But regardless of his state of guard, his answer was that he sees Cheshire as a friend. He didn't look any deeper into his relationship with Cheshire and by the sound of it, he seems apprehensive at the possibility of anything deeper. But while this was the immediate feeling from the pirate, that wasn't a guarantee that something couldn't happen between him and Cheshire. Belfast knew that she could get a better feeling of the situation with another question, but this time about Nashville. She would see if he would consent to another exchange of questions. But first, she had to answer his question. She said, "In November of 1939 I set off a magnetic mine. It was quite painful, and I was almost scrapped for the damage. But that didn't happen. For nearly three years I was under repair and was recommissioned in November of 1942, but with an extensive retrofit one top of being made whole. This chain," she tapped it for emphasis, "is how much I wanted out of the repair dock. But there is a dual meaning." She pointed across the river toward what once was her hull and she explained, "Sunbathing on Thames River wasn't bad. But this current life of mine is better."

Commander thought a few seconds about the singularity of it all. He'll never get over it! Warships who are now women? His logical mind taunted him as absurd for the impossibility of it all. But his own heart whispered in response to his shouting mind, "This is real. They exist. And that's a good thing. You're…I'm glad that they exist." He looked back to Belfast and before he said anything she spoke again, "Would you perhaps be willing to exchange another question? Same promise as before. No business."

This time it was easier to respond for the pirate, "Okay, let's hear it."

On a personal level, Belfast rooted for the romantic fortunes of Nashville. But so far, it looked like the possibility of romance hadn't come to Calico Jack's mind and it seemed that Nashville was equally clueless. To Belfast's eyes, happiness for the duo in each other's arms was right on the horizon, but as things were, they were poised to stay that way. Time to help a girl out. Belfast observed, "I see that you are quite close with Miss Nashville. What sort of relationship do you have with her?"

"We're friends. Best friends I'd say," he replied without having to think too hard. Belfast was immediately disappointed with the response. But she had a feeling that silence would help him and Nashville far more than anything she could say.

She was right. In the silence Las Vegas's mind began to ponder further on the issue. Saying that he was best friends with Nashville was the easiest thing to say, but to what extent was that true? It wasn't that he secretly hated her, quite the opposite. He found his thoughts on her often, daresay constantly. So often was she on his thoughts that he struggled to admit it to himself. Never before had anything like this happened to him. Was that a sign that he wanted more out of his friendship from Nashville? Something deeper? A romantic relationship? No. That's impossible. It's gotta be. She's so amazing. And he isn't. It's impossible. It's gotta be impossible. It's gotta be impossible.

Or is it possible?

What does he want from her? What does she want from him? What does he think of her? What does she think of him? Conflict brewed in his mind and in his heart. He didn't know the answer to any of those. And for some reason, of all the times of his life of not knowing something, this felt like the most important answer he had to find. He could only conclude one thing.

He cared for her. Deeply. But to what extent? And to what end? He couldn't say right now. And something told him that only time will give him that answer.

Belfast's disappointment ebbed away when she noticed the man in front of her develop a light blush. She congratulated herself. She had nudged him in the right direction, and she wagered that when the opportunity arises, Hood could do the same for Nashville. Belfast's part is complete; now let them do the rest. But now Belfast was even more convinced that if there should ever be conflict between Nashville and Cheshire over the affections of Calico Jack, he would choose his companion over Cheshire. But on the other hand, Belfast was somewhat saddened that such misfortune would have to befall Cheshire. By what Sirius, Duke of York, and Illustrious had told her, Cheshire was legitimately smitten with the foreigner. But knowing that there was a definitive side taken by who the point of friction was showed the head maid that there would be no competition, and likely no instances of violence. But still, whatever may happen will no doubt be interesting to watch. Something told her that Calico Jack was good at producing surprises. He might just be able to pull off a way to accommodate both Nashville and Cheshire.

Belfast finished her own musing at about the same time as Calico Jack. He was now back on track. He couldn't think of anything personal to ask Belfast, so he went with the ongoing search for Task Force 13. He cleared his throat for a second to show Belfast that he was ready for his next question and she gestured for him to continue, which he did. He started by explaining about the battle around Easter Island and how it scattered some Eagle Union Ship Girls. He then explained how Enterprise took on the duty of finding the lost with a fleet following her, got lost herself, and that her younger sister, Hornet, had asked him to keep his eyes open for sign of them. He emphasized that the search was of a personal nature, a favor for a friend, and off the books. He then finally asked if she had seen or heard anything that could even hint to Enterprise's whereabouts.

Belfast had to think for a few seconds to try and recollect any sightings of Eagle Union ships, or navy equipment, that she had heard of. She remembered something. She opened her mouth to recite, "There is a base quite like the one in Devonport in Brisbane, Australia from where patrols are conducted around a few of the islands of the South Pacific and into the Indian Ocean. This word comes to me from my own elder sister. A few months ago, say about four, they were conducting a patrol from Brisbane to Singapore, and upon entering the Java sea from the south, they gained radar and visual contact with a flight of Eagle Union Avenger Torpedo Bombers. I had accused her of imagining things, saying it was impossible for Eagle Union aircraft carriers to be so far from the Americas. But if what you're saying is true, I owe her an apology. Does that answer your question?"

He thought for a second and he said, "Yeah it does. But did she say anything about aircraft markings?"

"She didn't. And knowing Edinburgh, she wouldn't remember if you asked her."

Only now did he smile at the news. He had a lead about where Enterprise and Task Force 13 may be. And that was better than what most people on earth had about the whereabouts of who is quite possibly the most famous Eagle Union vessel to have ever been put to sea. He of course put aside his own biases towards a certain light cruiser when he made that judgement. But still. He had something, and that sure beat nothing. He thanked Belfast for her help and only then did they begin with the morning exercises.

This time, Belfast began to move him through defensive techniques with his knife. She discouraged directly blocking any attacks, especially against an opponent that was stronger, instead teaching him techniques that redirect an opponent's strike, using their strength against them and making them overextend, thus opening themselves for a counter strike. After practicing these techniques for a time, she walked him through the list of tendons and muscles that can be cut to weaken an opponent's movements. For example, slicing the inside forearm to weaken someone's grip, or severing the hamstring to make moving difficult and running virtually impossible. They practiced more and with time Belfast began to be more and more proud of her handiwork. She was a trained fighter, and a superhuman to boot, so she would always stand a good chance of victory in one-on-one combat with Calico Jack, but she felt some sympathy for any untrained fighter that crosses the officer. Unless… Belfast felt to go through one last aspect that could make or break a fight. There wasn't much to practice physically so she mainly lectured about, "The Art of Fighting Dirty." Spitting in someone's eye, throwing sand or blood in their face, strikes to the crotch or breasts, shallower cuts that cause pain and distraction, and weapons of opportunity like rocks, bricks, or bottles. The mentality; more than anything. They finished up for the day not long after.

XXXXXXXX

Belfast and Hood left Nashville's hull by the time that she had finished recovering from her buzz the day before. The duo passed some time briefly deciding what they would do for the day. As much as they wanted to continue exploring the city or the area round about they agreed that they would stay aboard Nashville's hull for the day at action stations. A few reasons led them to this decision. The first and foremost of these reasons was the wack-job guy that Commander lost to in darts the day before. They discussed their hypotheses back and forth as to what the guy's deal was, or if he was there for anything even remotely evil. Commander stood by his appraisal that there was something, "inhuman," about the man. Nevertheless, neither person could decide if the label of, "inhuman," meant connection to the Heralds of the Deep, or something much closer to the Sirens. And in spite of the fact that they couldn't conclude anything definitive, they were in a line of work that demands that threats, even potential threats, be taken very seriously. So, they would stand ready for any threat. And besides, there was a second reason. Commander had requested that the garrison remain on the guard for anything, and it would be hypocritical of him to request such and not follow through himself. But there was a final thing from the night before that unsettled Commander. He struggled to trust Belfast fully, but still, he respected her professionalism and her competency in judgment and discernment. And he noticed just how on edge the stranger had put her. That in and of itself, was cause for alarm.

The day wore on, and it started to rain. But this was no cause for alarm. It rains in England. And they stayed alert. But at one point, Nashville asked him what he was doing with Belfast in the morning while Nashville was busy getting over her buzz. In her heart, she was again distressed that he had passed time alone with another ship girl. He said that she showed him more with a knife, but that they also discussed some other things. He recited what had been spoken, but he was compelled by his own embarrassment and uncertainty to omit Belfast's question about his relationship with Nashville. He was careful to keep a poker face as he was going over the conversation to hide that anything was off to his companion.

But she knew him too well. She could tell that there was more, yet she didn't press to know what had actually been discussed. But she could tell that nothing but talking had happened, because a perk of it being her hull is that she can tell what happens or what is done, she just can't make it so that they bulkheads have eyes or ears. And besides, there is the ongoing crisis of Nashville's emotions about Las Vegas being alone with other ship girls that she doesn't talk to him about. She wouldn't press him and expect an answer when she doesn't answer with what's on her mind. Nashville wasn't the type to entertain double standards, nor would she risk it, because she holds her relationship with Las Vegas too dearly.

The rain fell even harder, and near to the mouth of the River Thames, a thick fog descended over the river's defenses. Tentatively, a lot more than just the heroes were going on alert. Hood even radioed to find where the duo was. And upon confirming that they were yet on Nashville's hull, she requested that they remain there. They were way ahead of her.

More time passed until mid-afternoon was reached and Commander was starting to get antsy. The last time he was like this was right before the Battle of Windward Passage, and that fact didn't bode well with him. Nashville was starting to pace from one side of her bridge to the other.

Eventually, the tension snapped. Nashville informed, "Sir, huff-duff just picked up an explosion of transmissions from the east." Before Commander could even respond the cacophonous wail of a hundred massive warning sirens tore through the air outside. London was under attack.

In a single wave, the tension of waiting for something to happen rolled off of Las Vegas's shoulders. Something was happening. Now all he had to do was get his head in the game and analyze the situation before he makes the wisest decision.

"Does radar have any aircraft in the air?"

"No sir. At least nothing that I can positively identify as Siren. But I bet the RAF is going to start swarming any second now."

"Safe assumption," replied Las Vegas as he looked out the window of Nashville's bridge to first look skyward and then his eyes settled on the street going adjacent to the River Thames. The London masses had been caught with their pants down. In grand hordes of people, they scurried to and fro seeking shelter from whatever attack was coming their way. An explosion manifested in a crack and rumble deafened only by distance.

Nashville assumed quickly what was at hand, "That sounds like a battleship shell. From maybe three miles away."

Commander gave an order, "Tune into the frequency that Hood gave us in case of emergency. I'm gonna pull up a map to try and get some information."

In less than three seconds Nashville tuned the radio to the required frequency, just in time to hear Nelson's voice be cut off. Like a ray of sunlight through a hurricane, Hood's dignified majesty shone trough with a royal order that overrode all of Nelson's authority. "I apologize Miss Nelson, but I'm taking command of the situation. Stand by all forces while Belfast and I assume position aboard Nashville." Commander realized at how large of a disadvantage it was for the battle cruiser and her light cruiser escort to only have their riggings active in the middle of an attack.

"Keep an eye out for Hood and Belfast. Let me know when they're boarding," ordered Commander. He didn't hear Nashville's response as he pulled up the map of the area on the navigation display in Nashville's bridge. The map of London and the River Thames came up. He chose the correct option on the touch screen and dragged a ruler from the mouth of the Thames to a distance of three nautical miles from where they were. From the range alone Commander was able to conclude what Nashville had said; they had at least one battleship among them, and some heavily armed ones too. If Nashville's estimate of where the shot landed is accurate, they had a range of twenty nautical miles. Uh oh. If the Sirens managed to get a few more miles upriver, they can start shelling government buildings and Buckingham Palace. Commander wasn't a Briton. But even he understood that this was unacceptable, regardless of whatever the Sirens may be doing to injure and kill the average Londoner today. But there was a bigger problem. Say they were to charge the Sirens right now; the Thames wasn't a straight shot towards the sea. Following the curves made for a charge of nearly thirty nautical miles. That's a forty-five-minute unguarded sail at flank speed for Nashville. For all of Nashville's lack of armor and her present inability to maneuver, they might as well be streaking down the Thames. And that forty-five-minutes of nudity was only the case assuming they don't have to navigate around other vessels on the water. The situation was dire.

Nashville rose her voice to be heard over the raid sirens and the increasing frequency of explosions in the city, "I see them, sir! They'll be here in maybe thirty seconds!"

"Open all the hatches they'll need to get to the bridge. We need to get them up to speed."

Hood and Belfast ran down the dock and up Nashville's gangway. They moved towards her conning tower and flew up the steps to get on the bridge. "What's the situation, Calico Jack?" asked Hood sharply as she advanced toward the still open navigation table.

"Unknown forces. At least one battleship with a gun range of at least twenty nautical miles. We don't know the state of friendly forces at the mouth of the river, but huff-duff is giving us a pretty solid indication that they're attacking from the east. We might not know much, but if we're going to move, I say do it now. You know how long the Thames is. And how long it will take to get in the fight."

Hood's first reaction was to agree readily with the Eagle Union officer. But not a moment later, her own experiences came to the forefront of her mind. Hood's deck armor was a huge disadvantage against long distance plunging fire so she'd best close distance as fast as possible, but the last time she charged into a situation, a famous Iron Blood battleship ripped over one-thousand-four-hundred people that she loved from her grasp, to cast them to their deaths, and her along with them. She paused, but only a second later determination filled Hood in spite of the risks. Just like last time, The Pride of the Royal Navy would do what needs to be done.

Hood was about to give the order to divide into separate forces and charge down the Thames but something unexpected arrived. A radioed message from Queen Elizabeth?

"What just happened?" asked Calico Jack, noticing the change of expression on Hood, Belfast, and Nashville.

"A message from Queen Elizabeth," informed Nashville, "that orders us to stay put and hold for reinforcements?"

"What? Is she not aware that London is under attack right now? Is she not aware that people are dying while we're just standing here?" asked Calico Jack disbelievingly.

Belfast responded with hints of sadness in her voice, "The message checks out to me."

Hood hesitated in agreeing with Belfast. Taking another look at her message she hoped against hope that Belfast, the most precise person that she had ever met, was wrong. Finally, with a heavy heart, Hood agreed with Belfast. She had her loyalties to Queen Elizabeth and in all the time that Hood has answered to her authority, she has not been led astray. Surely Queen Elizabeth had something in mind. She always has a plan. And despite Hood's desires, she would restrain them for Her Majesty.

Jets screamed overhead and a glance out of the window showed that the RAF had no such orders to stand by. With her eyes pointed out the window of Nashville's bridge, she naturally found them falling upon her countrymen and women. They were scared. They needed their protectors. That's what Hood knew she was meant to be. But she knew her queen to have greater vision than herself, so as much as it hurt her soul and further tarnished her pride in herself and the Royal Navy, she would do as ordered. A look towards her friend, Belfast, showed much the same sorrow and determination.

Calico Jack was much less content with following orders. He argued, "I may not have known her for long, but Queen Elizabeth doesn't strike me as the type to just order idleness when action is required. It could be a trick."

"I'm afraid not," responded Hood. "In every conceivable way, the message verifies as legitimate from Her Majesty."

Calico Jack was dumbfounded. He could scarcely believe the truth though here it is screaming in his face. If ordered contrary, the ship girls of the Royal Navy would not rush to the aid of their capital, even if they were inside it while it was being attacked. A part of him was disgusted and another part was sympathetic. It must hurt to be ordered to inaction.

He looked over the Nashville. He could tell that she wanted to help. He wanted to help too. Las Vegas wasn't much of a gambler. He knew how much of an advantage the house had over anybody looking to testing their luck. But something told him that if allowed to rush down the river, the London Garrison would fight with a ferociousness scarcely seen in war and certainly in vengeance for the wrongs visited upon their home and people. They just needed to be lightly pushed. He stole one last glance towards Nashville. They agreed silently that they had to go to the fight with haste, lest victory flee them. He wagered that the odds of the garrison following a charge to be unlikely if what Hood's stalwart sorrow showed true. He wagered that there was a high likelihood of them dying, and that filled him with terror, but he quickly forced that to the side. There are greater things in the equation than his fears. It's too bad that no matter how they cut it, the house has the odds stacked against them. Odds… Odds… He felt a leather lanyard going down from an epaulet on his uniform that disappeared into his breast pocket. He took out Virgil Slade's trench whistle, and it glistened; despite the pouring rain outside it was untarnished and radiant in the light. "No matter the odds…" he said aloud. "Nashville."

"Sir?"

"Signal the dock workers to take in the lines. We're not staying here."

"Aye sir."

"Have you gone completely mad, Calico Jack?" asked Hood with growing alarm in her voice. "If you do what I think you're about to do, it's suicide."

"I'm only mostly mad, Miss Hood, but my home city, Las Vegas, is famous for her gamblers. And right now, I can feel that it's time to go all in, and something tells me that I've got a good hand. Now, I'd be glad to have you along, but you have until the lines are taken in and the gangway retracted to get yourselves off Nashville if you aren't coming. So, choose quickly. But understand that we will not have idleness on our conscience, especially when we're in a position to do something."

The standard was set. Would the Royals rise to the occasion? Hood sighed and made a decision. She looked him dead in the eye and said, "We wish you the best of luck, Calico Jack. Thank you, for what you're about to do."

"Anytime," he said simply, and without accusation.

Hood turned to leave the bridge, and Belfast followed her while leaving no farewell greater than a sorrowful glance. It seemed they weren't up to the occasion. But Las Vegas had just made the biggest gamble of his life to hopefully show them that they were. For what is more emboldening than the boldness of those that went before?

Nashville came back from off the balcony to the side of her bridge. She was soaking wet from the rain, but that didn't seem to bother her. She reported, "The dockworkers didn't run off like I thought they would. I guess they expected us to get going for the fight." Nashville felt Hood and Belfast take their riggings and carefully transfer them from her hull onto the pier without having to attract attention with flying wisdom cubes in the air. "To bad the Royals aren't feeling courageous today. Do you really think that they'll follow?"

"It's what I'm counting on. But once you're freed, we have to get going. Go as fast as you can."

Nashville smirked and answered, "Yes, sir." Nashville felt herself being untied in record time and when she was independent of her former moorings she ordered, "Brace for acceleration." Commander leaned towards the bow a bit while Nashville's quadruple screws stirred up the water behind the vessel. The inertia rapidly shifted, and the hull began to accelerate in the water towards the fight.

It can be said that in the times of greatest crisis, man remembers his gods best. Las Vegas was no different. He silently prayed for a miracle. A miracle that he and Nashville would make it to the mouth of the river in time to make a difference, that the London Garrison may be blessed with the courage to follow a mad man like himself, that they would be victorious against their enemies, and that maybe, just maybe, they could make it out of this alive. Of all things to come to his mind, a scripture from the Book of Isaiah came to the forefront.

But they that wait on the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

Borne on the wings of eagles, Nashville and Las Vegas began their charge down the River Thames. May their allies be filled with that same vigor.

XXXXXXXX

"Where in God's name are they going?" growled out Nelson even though she knew the answer. "And why aren't we going with them?"

Opinion was well divided among the London Garrison as they watched Calico Jack and Nashville slip around the first bend out of sight. It wasn't as if any of them wanted to stay put, all of them wanted to charge down the Thames after the pirate and give the Sirens what for. But the difference was the strength of loyalty to Queen Elizabeth. Or at least, to the order that bore her name. Nelson was of the mind to make full steam to the fight, thus disregarding the order. Along with her was Sussex, Icarus, Echo, Hardy, and Comet. But those who stayed steadfast to the order was Hood, Belfast, Exeter, Gloucester, Black Prince, and Musketeer.

But the most conflicted was Swiftsure. She was a different case from the rest of those present because she had sworn oath as a knight. And even if it wasn't made according to traditional custom, part of her particular oath, taken under the witness of her fellow knights, was to swear absolute fealty not only to the will and protection of her queen, but to the will and protection of the people that she was to serve. Torn between two of the main tenants in an oath that she held as more valuable than any amount of riches that the earth had to offer her, she stood confused with not an idea of what she can do, or what she should do. What does it mean to be a knight? What would the Knight Commander King George V do? Swiftsure didn't have to think too long to get her answer. King George V wouldn't stand around following an order that didn't make any sense. She would lift her sword to the sky and declare, "Let us go forth and plant our banners!"

Decision made, Swiftsure leaned out the side of her bridge into the downpour to signal for the dock workers to take in the lines tethering her to the pier. They had fled in the panicking crowds. Armed with her sabre, she jumped from her bridge to land perfectly on her deck. She rushed to the forward lines, lifted her sword skyward, and cleaved through them in one clean motion. Enhanced by superhuman speed she reached the aft lines in seconds. She raised her sword again to the heavens, as if daring them to stop her. But her resolve faltered, this was the point of no return. If this goes wrong, and she really is defying an order from Her Majesty, this is treason. At best it would cost her knighthood. She gritted her teeth. Knighthood wasn't about titles and accolades. It was unflinching courage and sacrifice in spite of all obstacles. And right now, the pirate Calico Jack was more a knight than she. Swiftsure refused to be upstaged by a pirate. Her sword fell, and it rent in twain her old interpretation of chivalry. Now freed, her boilers and turbines went into overdrive and she gained speed on the Thames. Her radio went crazy from her fellow ship girls. The response ranged from Hood ordering her to stop, to Nelson cheering her onward.

Emboldened by the knight among them, Nelson simply used her battleship-size displacement and large powerplant to snap the lines tethering her to the pier. Echo had resolved to follow Nelson, and her dock workers hadn't run away. She got free. The rest who had wanted to charge alongside the pirate got free in short order and they started to go down the river.

Belfast turned to Hood as they still stood where Nashville was once moored. "Lady Hood, what are your orders?"

Hood's hand was being forced, and in this occasion, she was okay with that. They would stand the best chance at victory and survival if they charged and fought together. Hood decided that she would defy the order. She hoped that Her Majesty would accept her apology, assuming she lived to give it. Hood got on her own radio and addressed the garrison, "We'll advance together after Calico Jack. Exeter. Come pick Belfast and I up."

At about the same time in the English Channel, off the coast from a city named Hastings, Duke of York, who was flagship for the Channel Patrol Fleet got word of the attack on London. Without orders from Queen Elizabeth, she ordered her own fleet to make top speed for London. It would take them nearly two hours to reach the mouth of the River Thames but that didn't deter them trying to get there. Five minutes into sailing, genuine orders from Queen Elizabeth came down. The one-line order was, "Defend the capital at all costs!"

XXXXXXXX

To both Las Vegas's and Nashville' chagrin they couldn't make Nashville's top speed. There were too many obstacles in the river. Of course, at the sight of a warship rushing to the battle, anybody in the river did their absolute best to get out of the way. But not everyone can be as maneuverable as Nashville, and the Thames is only so wide anyway. Nevertheless, from the banks and from boats, the duo saw multitudes of people cheer them on. And that helped Commander fight off his fears even better. Assuming they were able to maintain their present speed of around thirty-five knots, they could expect to reach the battle in about fifty minutes. The duo celebrated briefly when the radio picked up Hood's orders to form up and follow the foreigners. But unfortunately, their speed along with their lead would mean getting into battle about fifteen minutes ahead of the now divided London Garrison centered around the thirty-two-knot speed of Exeter and the twenty-three knots of Nelson.

Commander knew that if they were to die in the coming battle it would happen in the time that they would pass waiting for the Royals. So, he did his best to come up with a plan. The biggest immediate objective that he and Nashville decided on was to get out of the narrower part of the river after the last bend terminated into the mouth. Because as they would come around that bend, they would be sitting ducks in what an infantryman would call, "The Fatal Funnel," a place where one cannot take cover and is easily attacked. It was decided that Nashville would prioritize speed, even if it meant blowing through any Siren formations to get out of the kill zone. After that, the main objective would be to clear out the area that they just got out of to keep it clear for the London Garrison to get out, at which point, the now united fleet would assemble into a floating wall that would push the enemy out of the mouth of the Thames. Now armed with a plan, they sailed and focused on their tasks.

Commander got to work analyzing the message that they had intercepted at the beginning of the whole incident. He was able to conclude that it was the Siren Main Fleet Code and was uncrackable for that. So, they could at least assume an opposition like unto the enemy force that they had defeated at the Battle of Windward Passage.

Nashville paid attention to the radio of all the military frequencies that she knew of. What Nashville heard would haunt her. Screams and shouts showed that the conventional Royal Navy at the mouth of the river was being picked apart, having been surprised at close range by an enemy who had more heavy guns than them. They had been pushed aside to the northern side of the mouth of the Thames, which left only coastal artillery—whose own casualties were starting to mount—as the defenders of the entrance to London. The Royal Air Force had an entirely different issue. By the sounds of frustration, their losses had been comparatively light, but guided munitions refused to lock on to the enemy vessels. Missiles were virtually useless and only when attack vectors were taken at low speed to use weapons in an unguided fashion was there a chance of hitting any target. But this was where the Sirens were able to use their anti-aircraft fire most effectively. Nevertheless, the RAF kept the pressure on, taking some losses, but also sinking a few Sirens.

The plan remained unchanged as they duo got to about a half hour from their destination. But suddenly, the distinct voice of Duke of York came over the radio. She announced to all that would listen that Royal Navy reinforcements were coming from the English Channel to the south. A longshot possibility came to Commander's mind. He got to work on a falsely encoded radio message that would order the mass production ships to organize a large raider flotilla to the south in the English Channel right in front of where Duke of York's fleet was coming from. The new plan was now to pin the Siren fleet between Duke of York's force and the London Garrison in the Straight of Dover just outside and to the south of the mouth of the Thames. But his false code would take some time to get just right to fool the mechanical mass production ships. This was poised to be quite a sticky situation.

Las Vegas had ordered Nashville to hold her fire until they were coming around the last bend into the mouth so that it wouldn't give their presence away and from over the radio, Hood had come to the same conclusion independently and ordered the garrison likewise.

On the other side of the battlefield, rather far away behind a console in the Siren's North Atlantic Command, sat Strategist, where she was quite pleased with the progress of the operation. The Royal Navy at the mouth of the river was just about smashed out of existence and the missile jamming on her ships were doing the job nicely at neutering the Royal Air Force. She could tell that things were going her way so far. But the one that she now knew as, "Calico Jack," still hadn't shown his face yet. That was okay though, he wasn't scheduled to show up yet. Still, in an excess of caution, she would order her line of destroyers to form up with the transition from mouth into the river itself where a unified torpedo volley at touching distance would leave absolutely no room for Nashville to dodge. Assuming he didn't sink immediately, her cruisers and battleships would then pick him to bits with gunfire, and then they would withdraw. Her objective wasn't to flatten London—as tempting as that sounded—she was just here for Calico Jack. And giving the Royal Navy a chance to assemble and then counter in the coastal waters where she couldn't deploy any guardian would reduce her fleet to the extent to make her victory pyrrhic.

But this plan of hers was flawed in two ways that she hadn't properly anticipated. Since the day that Las Vegas had met Nashville, her hull had been painted in the Eagle Union's Measure 33 dazzle camouflage. In his opinion, the distinctiveness of dazzle made her hull look really cool, but there was a practical part of the paint job too. It's jagged, unpredictable lines made aiming torpedoes a nightmare, because it makes it virtually impossible to gauge a ship's correct direction or speed. This last point about gauging speed was augmented by another hole in Strategist's plan. According to her knowledge, Nashville's top speed was thirty-two knots. Not the present forty-one.

Contact with the enemy was at hand. Commander and Nashville shared some final words before getting into the battle proper. "Whelp. Here goes," said Commander.

"We got this. We've faced worse before," replied Nashville.

He nodded to her and then ordered, "As we come around the last bend accelerate to flank speed." He then put the binoculars kept on the bridge up to his eyes. He could see over the low-laying land around the last bend to a line of Siren destroyers assembling for what he correctly guessed was a torpedo volley just for them. Beyond the vanguard line of destroyers, he saw what he estimated to be easily a fleet of sixty with sizes ranging from battleships down to destroyers. But the fleet would come in a few seconds, after the destroyers. He hummed to himself, trying to come up with a plan that doesn't involve eating a torpedo. He said, "Looks like they're preparing a welcome of torpedoes. Load the forward depth charge launcher and set the depth for thirty feet. Fire it on my command. And go head on with any spread they fire. Don't fire your batteries yet either, we'll need visibility to survive the opener, but load AP shells."

"Yes sir," she said with complete trust, seeing exactly what he wanted to do. Even if it was crazy and unheard of, she couldn't come up with any better plan than exploding the torpedoes before they hit her. But she complied and her batteries were loaded. She loved the exhilaration she felt with the sound and feeling of her batteries being loaded.

Strategist got a bad feeling about all this when she got the first report of spotting Nashville dashing around the second to last bend. Nashville wasn't supposed to have that speed. Her destroyer line wasn't fully formed. But it would have to do.

Time for Nashville's camouflage to do it's job. The tactical computers on the siren destroyers had to compensate quickly. The dazzle camouflage did exactly what it was meant to do and made it difficult for the destroyer line to properly gauge Nashville's speed and distance so their collective tactical computers all came to the decision to release the spread much earlier than comfortable, because shooting from further away is preferable to firing too close and risking damage to themselves. If they could feel emotion, it would be dread because at the range they fired from, it conceivably gave Nashville the chance to do something about her situation.

Nashville finished straightening out and accelerating as Commander watched the nearly twenty destroyers release a volley of four torpedoes each. Eighty torpedoes. If he didn't have a plan, or if he wasn't so focused on range and the speed of the torpedoes as they streaked under the water, he would have wetted himself. Nashville was starting to stress out. Her commander was waiting an awful long time to launch the depth charge that would make them a hole in the torpedo spread. "Now sir?"

"Not yet." A few seconds passed.

"Now?"

"Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One. Fire." Nashville launched her bow depth charge and it curved up into the air and then arched down to fall into the water in front of them. It took just over two seconds for the depth charge to reach the specified depth of thirty feet. It detonated but with a blast far larger than it would have done on it's own. The depth charge had been timed perfectly and it detonated what could easily have been ten torpedoes and knocking no less than thirty off course thus making a perfect hole for Nashville to go through, leaving the rest to streak harmlessly past the heroes.

But there was an added tactical advantage that Commander had not foreseen but now noticed. The geyser that the explosion made was positively massive. The perfect size to hide a light cruiser. He ordered, "Steady as she goes, Nashville. Go full speed through where the geyser is and charge through the destroyer line." So, like a magician performing a magic trick behind a curtain, they performed an appearing trick from through the geyser as it fell. With their speed and the surprise of the destroyers who could only register that there was an explosion the duo was upon the line in what felt like an instant. He finally gave the order that Nashville was itching for, "Continuous fire. Pick your favorite target. Just get us through the line and keep us alive, I gotta get the false radio message ready."

Nashville smiled evilly and she chose to split her front two turrets between the two destroys that she would charge in between. She began firing and in so doing, she made it so that she and her commander would have to start watching through radar due to thick black smoke from her guns. The destroyer on the left had a shell penetrate one of it's turrets which started a fire. A few of her subsequent shots penetrated the armored belt just above and below the waterline. It began to slowly sink. The destroyer on the right took an armor piercing shell right through where it's instrument array was located, effectively blinding it while the system rerouted sensory functions. Subsequent shells destroyed the powerplant of the vessel, making it dead in the water without power, silencing the threat.

Nashville prepared to use all of her turrets on different target once she got into the target rich environment that was just behind the destroyer line. She was already charting a course that would take them out of the kill zone by zig-zagging right through the enemy formation. It was a deadly game of naval tag. At least, it was supposed to be. Nashville let loose with her cannons after passing through the destroyer line and entering into the tightly packed Siren formation for maybe five or six seconds while she maneuvered aggressively to avoid any collisions and return fire, until she noticed something. "What the hell? Sir, look! They aren't shooting at us!" Las Vegas looked up and was equally perplexed.

What was happening was a huge programming oversight on the Sirens' part. Machines generally cannot be reasoned with. And the Sirens had spent so much time making their mass production ships unhackable to humanity that they neglected other key areas that they would now pay dearly for. Computers operate under set laws and structures. Under condition A they will give output A. Under condition B they will give output B. But what happens to a computer program under conflicting conditions? All the mass production ships present were dominated by a tactical computer and all the programs loaded onto it. One of the conditions that it operated under functioned thusly, "If an enemy is identified and in firing range, then open fire in the optimal method of attack." But another condition conflicted with it, and it said, "If at all possible, prioritize preservation of self and friendly units." Neither program had been given priority in the design phase of mass production ship development because no Siren Planner had ever anticipated a human stupid enough to charge recklessly into an enemy formation. The collective mass production ship fleet began to go in a loop of verifying one, "if-condition," being unable to progress the program and then going onto the next, "if-condition," and being unable to progress that program. This repetition continued ad nauseum. If allowed to proceed unchecked, this glitch would function like a computer virus and crash their tactical computers, making each and every siren vessel present nothing more than a floating island. But each computer had enough memory to keep this crash from happening anytime soon, so all the loop did was lock down their systems and make them helpless. First, they couldn't fire. Then they couldn't maneuver. Then they couldn't network between each other to get strategies together. There was a way out though. Remotely turn them off and then turn them back on, but with a priority command from a humanoid Siren to give one program the priority. Strategist could do this, but the problem was so unforeseen that she would have to hack into a system that the Sirens themselves considered, "unhackable," to humans and certainly difficult to themselves.

Very far away inside the North Atlantic Command, Strategist began to bang on her console while she screeched, "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!" But that didn't change the fact that it was. She began her hack. With any amount of luck, it would take ten to twelve minutes even with a Siren supercomputer assisting her and it would make it all the easier for the humans to hack them in the future. If she couldn't salvage this somehow, she would end up just like the purifier she had replaced.

Commander realized what was going on. He urgently ordered, "There's a glitch in their systems. Keep shooting, Nashville. We don't know how long this will last so make each shot count. Aim and get critical hits on each target."

"Yes sir."

Now it was the most stressful race against time that either Nashville or Las Vegas had ever experienced. Like a coyote sneaking into a chicken coop, Nashville maneuvered deliberately but without loss of speed to line up devastating volleys on each individual destroyer and any backup that they may have as they stood silent watch over the opening through which the London Garrison would appear in a few minutes.

Everyone else watching, either from the sea, air, or coast capitalized on the opportunity and started to hammer the Siren vessels. The two surviving ships of the original twenty-five from the Royal Navy would in all claim six siren vessels. Coastal artillery made the job of mopping up the destroyer line a piece of cake in less than five minutes, because the destroyers right now amounted to no more than target practice. The RAF could unfortunately do little. So much ammunition had been expended in the time between the start of the battle and now that only a handful of sirens could be sunk by the weapons that could now lock on. What had started out as a terrifying scourge of eighty plus siren ships was reduced to around fifty.

Commander used the time to get his message together, and it was nearing completion. Victory was at hand; he could feel it. He also contacted Duke of York with his plan. She was relieved to hear his voice and she agreed to go along after only a little persuasion.

Nashville was starting to have fun. To be completely honest, what she had expected to be harrowing and likely to kill her was kind of what she imagined a day at the carnival to be like. The rain was even starting to clear up, and somehow, that brightened her mood even though they were still technically in the middle of a battle. After about ten minutes in what amounted to a shooting range, she heard Hood's voice over the radio, "Calico Jack and Nashville, are you still alive?"

Only now did either of them feel the need to answer the battle cruiser's radio calls. Commander picked up the radio handpiece and responded with a put together, yet still stressed tone. He said, "Yeah, we're alive. Something happened to the mass production ships that has made them stop moving and fighting, but we don't know how long this will last." As if the universe was laughing at his words, the Sirens finally finished their reboot cycle, and they began to move again. Turrets started to traverse towards them. "Me and my big mouth," he deadpanned over the radio. He continued with growing stress in his voice, "Okay Hood. We softened them up and opened the way for you but there are still about fifty ships left and they're starting to get moving again. Feel free to get here as soon as possible. Can I get an eta?"

"Five minutes," she replied. And then she asked, "Can we meet you by the west end of the mouth, where it turns into the River Thames?"

"Sure thing. We'll be right over."

He looked over to Nashville to make sure that she had understood what was going on, but she was busy looking out of the bridge's windows. She was petrified with fear and he had a bad feeling that he could guess as to why. He looked over towards the radar display that he had been neglecting to get his fake radio message ready. In Nashville's bout of fun, she had taken them too far out into the middle of the mouth, right in the middle of the Siren fleet. They were surrounded. And almost every single turret was rotating their way. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Nashville whispered, "I'm so sorry, sir. I failed you."

Time slowed for the codebreaker. Was all the courage he had gotten over the past months just delusions of grandeur? Was it really all for nothing? Was this the end? Just after it all had begun was this really the end of the duo? He wasn't finished with life. He wasn't ready to die. He was going to respond when the first shot was fired. Nashville began to scream in pain and surprise, and her hull shook. That snapped Commander out of his line of thought faster than anything else.

Very far away, Strategist began to howl with victorious laughter. She had beaten Calico Jack.

XXXXXXXX

Exeter and the fleet with her steamed around the final bend of the River Thames as fast as she could and when Hood was able to gaze over the battlefield, she was taken aback with the absolute slaughter that had occurred. Twisted hunks of siren steel lay dead in the water or underneath the shallow surface. Floating fuel oil made the water appear as if itself was burning. She saw the bodies of those who had fought and died to defend their home. But she could not mourn for them because at a range of five or six nautical miles, a veritable wall of siren ships was firing out towards the sea. She armed herself with her own pair of binoculars to get a better look. They weren't firing out to sea; they were firing into the center of a ring. It was Calico Jack! He needed their immediate help. Hood gave the order over her radio, "Fleet. Take aim at the enemy. They're surrounding Calico Jack and Nashville and will kill them without our help. Shoot on my command."

Turrets rotated. It was too bad that Nelson and Echo were still too far behind to start taking part in the battle, but Hood would have to make do. Signals of readiness came back from the garrison. "Shoot!" ordered Hood. The garrison complied and fired as one to announce their entrance and support for Calico Jack.

XXXXXXXX

As he leaped up from his workstation to rush to Nashville's side, he made the wisest decision of reaching over to her helm and pushing her throttle to the maximum. It was the most basic evasive maneuver that he could control. Doing so made is so that only a single battleship shell hit Nashville, thankfully only penetrating the space between her engine room and aft magazine, so that they didn't either loose power or go out in a single huge explosion. Nashville's hull began to gain speed in the water towards the direction that they wanted to go, that is towards Hood and the rest of the London Garrison. He reached her side and just before she would sink onto the deck, he threw one of her arms around his shoulders with his own around her own shoulders to support her. She wasn't unconscious, but it was clear that her pain was excruciating. She was gritting her teeth and looking at him through her own tears of pain. That looked killed him inside. She said that she had failed him. No. He had failed her. His negligence had made a simple mistake possibly deadly. But instead of despair like he had expected, firm resolution to save her came upon him. He ordered, "Look alive, Nash. We're not out of the woods yet."

That was a bad joke, and she knew it. So, why was she smiling at it? It was the best possible ending if she were to die violently right here and right now, with her commander somehow making her smile. Looking at him and how he hadn't given up yet made her feel warm inside. It felt as if. As if. Her pain was ebbing away? She could feel it. The side on her flesh and blood body wasn't hurting hardly at all anymore. And what's more amazing, she felt the steel of her armored belt mend itself, but not perfectly. It was like the hit she had taken had only damaged her armor but never penetrated. "You're right. The fight's not over yet," she replied. "Help me up."

He did, and the moment her own two feet were firmly anchored onto the deck, her hull began to make more twisting and turning evasive maneuvers. Nashville was reinvigorated in a way that Las Vegas had thought impossible mere seconds earlier. "What's going on Nashville?" he asked as they dodged volley after volley aimed their way.

"A new ability. But we'll talk all about it later," she dismissed. "Right now, I need you to guide us out of this mess. I'm a little focused on trying to stay alive here."

"Got it. Give me a second."

"No rush."

Instead of observing the radar screen to look for any gaps, the Sirens were close enough that he could look for openings with his naked eye. As he was looking, several of the ships surrounding them were hit by cannon fire. The garrison had arrived and that made Las Vegas's morale much higher than it was a few seconds ago. He saw the largest gap. It looked like instead of a perfect circle, the Sirens had permitted that a corner form. The corner was guarded by a battleship. The battleship fired and missed them. It would take the enemy nearly thirty seconds to reload so now was their chance. He pointed and ordered, "There to the south-west! Beside the battleship! I see a gap that we can get through!"

Even though her hull was damaged, her trust in her commander wasn't, so she complied with, "On it! Brace for hard port!" She had finished turning when finally, something happened that she had been waiting for. She sang out, "Raining fire is ready sir!"

"I think you already have a target in mind," observed Las Vegas. It seemed that a battleship would be Nashville's latest on her ever-growing list of victims.

Nashville had swung a little bit wider to let all of her fifteen six-inch guns train on the battleship as they would pass. The Sirens noticed the break-out plan of the light cruiser and piled on as much fire as they could, even throwing some torpedoes in the mix, but it was all so fast paced, that they couldn't target accurately. The battleship fired and missed again, only giving the duo a shower in the geysers it's shots threw up. This would be it's last mistake.

From a broadside with a distance of only about seventy-five yards, Commander gave the order, "Raining fire, Nashville! Let em' have it!"

"The fastest guns on the sea!" she bellowed. Like usual smoke quickly obscured whatever Nashville was firing at, so they couldn't see the immediate effects. But they could hear the sound of metal ripping through metal.

While the heroes couldn't see it, their advancing Royal Navy allies sure could. From the very short distance, Nashville's six-inch shells had enhanced armor penetrating capabilities, so when just a few shells landed in the same spot it tore open the battleship's armored belt. Hood and the rest of the Royals, now including Nelson, who finally showed up, watched in awe as the light cruiser first tore open one side of the side armor, but then they were even more shocked to see the other side of the siren battleship bathe in sparks and then explosions as shells penetrated all the way from one side of the ship to the other. Only after having experienced so much damage, did the battleship begin to sink. But as it got lower in the water, a spreading fire that was started internally reached the forward magazine. In a huge explosion, the two halves somersaulted on their ends to fall back into the water like a breaching whale.

Nashville had broken out of being surrounded, and she made full flank speed towards her allies, which had resumed shooting at the Siren fleet. Hood spoke up, "I'm going to ignore what I just saw for now and say that I'm glad that the two of you are alive. So, tell me, Calico Jack. You've clearly had a plan so far. So, what is it now?"

He sat down at his workstation, "I've got a magic trick in the works. I won't say exactly what it is, but if it wows the crowd enough, we just need to follow the Sirens and blast them all the way until we pin them between us and Duke of York's fleet as they're coming through the Strait of Dover."

"Is your trick ready?"

"Almost. Give me five minutes."

"Very well. Have you notified Duke of York yet?"

"I have, and she's agreed to go through with it."

"Marvelous. Notify us when the trick is about to begin. If it's good, I think applause would be in order. Hood out."

Nashville finished pulling up alongside the London Garrison. Right now, it was twelve strong because Hood and Belfast still couldn't deploy their hulls or show their riggings in use so close to habited shoreline. The garrison fired on the Sirens, and they fired back. Grazing hits would occur to the garrison on occasion and the worst was a deflected shell that dented Nelson's armor. But the sirens were losing ships here or there. They were still nearly four times the size of the garrison, but that wouldn't matter in a few moments.

The false radio message was finally ready more than an hour after this whole mess got started. Commander picked up the radio transponder and said, "Please remain seated. This'll likely bring down the house." He could almost hear eyes rolling over the radio. But still, he pressed send on Mr. Bond and the message to the Siren fleet got sent out. The orders were simple. It was a carefully encoded low-level cypher that ordered the largest raider flotilla ever assembled to immediately journey to and begin raiding at coordinates that laid in the eastern end of the Strait of Dover. It also included orders to ignore any other orders for the next twenty-four hours. The part that he was iffy about was to see if there was a limit to how many siren ships would go to any sort of raider assignment. Or if they would fall to the block on orders for the next day. Or if it would work at all. He didn't have to wait long to see if it worked.

It did. As if governed by a single consciousness, the remaining mass production ships turned toward the south-east, towards their destination. They got under way. Commander heard applause over the radio. "Good show! Good show!" lauded a number of the garrison. "Alright ladies," rose Hood's voice over the ovation, "You know what to do. Follow through with Calico Jack's plan."

So, they did. From nearly the center of the mouth of the River Thames, the London Garrison would harass the leaving Siren fleet all the way out of the river until they looped around southward into the Strait of Dover, where Duke of York's force of ten ship girls was waiting. Hood and Belfast were finally able to take active part in the final moves. Over the course of the next half hour, the Siren fleet would be decimated by heavy fire from two sides. The last heavy cruiser sank, and a few seconds later, Commander joked over the radio, "Don't screw with the Royal Navy. They'll mess you up." Cheers and laughs responded over the radio.

Commander felt tapping on his shoulder. He didn't have to look to know who it was. He stood and once again his emerald eyes met Nashville's rubies. She came in for a close hug, wanting nothing more than his touch after having come so close to dying. Even though she should be celebrating over the victory, she was pained in her heart. She still felt like she had failed her commander in getting them surrounded. She whispered, "I'm so sorry, sir. I'm so sorry for almost getting us killed."

"I'm sorry too," he replied, "I should have been watching what was going on. So, how about we call it even and come out of this wiser people and a stronger team?"

"I like the sound of that," she answered. She took comfort in the thought that even though she messed up today, she can get better tomorrow alongside her commander.

XXXXXXXX

Comfort was nowhere to be found with Strategist. In the most eloquent words of any human sailor, she had fucked up today, big time, and because of that, she most likely wouldn't have a tomorrow.

She should have trusted the loyalty of The Heralds of the Deep. She should have trusted them even if the Heralds are just looking for the right opportunity to stab the Sirens in the back; once they get whatever it is they want.

But, as the old expression goes, "Could've…Would've…Should've…"

Boom. There you go. That was a ride let me tell you. This chapter was really crazy for me. You see, I'm usually able to get a thousand to two thousand words typed almost every day and if I keep that up, I can get nine or ten thousand words for when I get the document edited and uploaded once every seven or eight days. But this chapter was insane. Twenty-four hours ago, it was half of it's present size. So, how was it? What did you like? What didn't you like? For some reason, I'm always self-conscious about my battle scenes so please, help me make them better. And also, Nashville got her second ability this chapter! I'll admit, I was kind of surprised to see it appear on my screen, but it makes sense historically. The real Nashville was saved a few times by effective damage control. I like it, it'll let the battles feel more visceral because I personally get agitated when heroes are able to go into huge battles and emerge unscathed. Anyway, I see some comments. So, let's get onto those.

Welcome back, Zander22122. Thanks for enjoying the last chapter. I think it's funny how you know about what an alicorn is. What had spurred me to look up the technical name for a unicorn with wings was an argument in a kid's show about what it's name was. I think the argument was between calling it a, "pegacorn," or a, "unisis." And I said to myself, "Hang on. That can't be right." Thanks for the feedback about the one-chapter nickname. I'll be more specific about what it's referring to if I ever do something like it again.

Hey there, SafetyDoggo. I'm glad you liked the chapter. You're pretty sharp about Mordred having been more robot than siren. I was heavily inspired by the movie, Terminator, while I was writing the section. You made a good guess about the missiles being jammed, and to be honest, that was the most convenient answer as a way to explain why there wouldn't be anti-ship missiles as part of London's defenses and why the air forces of the world aren't doing so well against the Sirens. I might revisit this later on in the story, but we'll see. I'm glad you thought the part with Nashville was cute. I agree with your assessment about the factions, and it would be especially cool to see submarines of the Red Navy. Ok. Ok. Please calm down a bit. In all fairness, Las Vegas didn't make her cry this time around. It was Roscoe. Well, technically it was me. You see, growing up in my house, life lessons often had to accompany heart-to-heart moments and lots of crying. So, I'll take this as a sign that I need to get better as an author and find a way to get character development that doesn't involve tears. Please stand by for that.

It's nice to meet you, playerultima. Thanks for the review. Congrats on recovering your account and thanks again for posting a review. I'm so glad that the concept of clandestine operations with ship girls is interesting to you. I had never seen it before at the time of my beginning this story, so I was just trying to do something different, or more specifically, something that wasn't copying anybody else. I'll definitely keep it up. Especially with things starting to happen in the story. I'm happy that I wasn't the only one that really liked the launching of the paper boat into the Thames. You see, I like wholesome things. Like, a lot. And to be honest, I'm just writing a story that I would want to read, so wholesomeness is definitely going to feature every now and then. Well, that and some action, some drama, and good vanquishing evil. You know, the good stuff. I'm still in good health. I hope that you are too and I look forward to keeping this story going.

Hi Touhoufanatic. Thanks for the complement about the progress. But I would really like to thank you for your criticism. It shows to me that I haven't conveyed clearly enough what I thought I had said. The Heralds of the Deep are only faking their loyalty to the Sirens. I can assure you, there is a conflict of interests here between the Sirens and the cult and I was trying to convey that with Strategist not trusting them and going against Observer's orders by sending a superweapon to investigate Las Vegas, or by having the cultists refer to the Sirens as, "their means of salvation and their greatest enemies." That shapeshifting superweapon is next on the chopping block, so it won't be around to do any more scouting and you know how I try to base the superweapons in myth? This superweapon taking the form of a man is in line with it's stories. We'll find out more specifics in the next chapter or two. But still, after what will happen to Strategist for her failure, I intend to let the cult finally make their move. It'll be great. I haven't been getting my main character knife lessons or letting him carry a gun for no reason.

It's good to see you again, SomeRand0m. A philosophy professor? I hadn't thought of it, but we're gonna need something after the war so maybe. I've never heard the phrase, "age like milk," before. I'm going to have to work that into normal conversation some time. The cult is meant to be creepy and I'm glad that it seems to have worked. That's the sort of stuff that freaks me out too. You bring up a good point with Nashville having been able to meet Las Vegas only because Argonautica had failed. I'll probably work that into the conversation when Hood finally speaks with Nashville. I kind of like Roscoe's character, so I feel it best to give him a moment or two to shine. It's a big relief that my rambling isn't boring you. And I'm honored that you think so highly about the story. So far, I can say that I'm proud of what has come out, and I intend to keep that up. I look forward to having you around until the end. I've never seen Fate Apocrypha. So, I'll take your word for it about Mordred being attractive. At the moment, the superweapon isn't planned to do any infiltration anywhere but you're absolutely correct about it being genderless, that's why I tried to use the gender-neutral pronoun, "it," when referring to Mordred. At the moment, I'm still trying to hammer down how I exactly want a romantic relationship dynamic to work between Las Vegas and Nashville. So, all I can say right now is, we'll see about how it works out with possessiveness and what will happen when they meet any of the world's yanderes. I'm too deep to stop too. Nor do I want too. I have to see this through to the end or I'll never forgive myself. And even though this is my story, until it's posted on the website, my own ideas feel like head-cannon without it being legit. So, I gotta post it to make it real.

Thanks for the review, Stuka87. To be completely honest, I had danced around with all sorts of ideas for what would happen when the superweapon got into the pub. I had considered exactly what you hoped for, but I considered that Nashville would have no way to determine what it really was, especially after having slipped past Belfast and I had mentioned in another response earlier that I had based the scene on the movie, Terminator. It being compromised and lulled into false security would have made it that much harder to maintain it as threatening, which was the main goal. And just for fun, the most outlandish idea that I considered was it being compromised and then a foot chase happening. But I couldn't think of a way to jump off from that into whatever would happen next.

What's up, HeronLsL? I'll start off by saying that The Heralds of the Deep are only temporary pawns of the Sirens. They are on a level of evil all on their own. You're justified in being worried about the name, "The Knight Guardian." It is a pretty good superweapon and to be perfectly honest, I couldn't come up with a name that didn't give away what the superweapon was specifically, so I decided to go with something that is like a twisted, perverse reflection of what the Royal Navy stands for. I'm so glad that the meeting went beyond expectations. As much as I love conversation, I feel like dragging it on can be a bit risky, so it's good to see that it went over well. Likewise, it's good to see that the revelation of why Nashville was launched, and the following scene was a powerful moment. The Knight Guardian was supposed to give the creeps and put you on the edge of your seat. After all, an interesting story should engage you and make you feel something right? Thanks for complementing that phrase about King Arthur's absence. I thought that it was pretty cool too while I was writing it. I hope that this chapter lived up to your expectations.

Whew. That was a lot of writing. But anyway, I'm starving. So, I'm out for dinner. 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.