Three men stood in the vacant office of the commander of Azur Lane. Cmdr. Petraeus, the highest ranking authority present, Cmdr. Overmars, the Azur Lane veteran, and Cmdr. Graves, owner of Shadow Company and head of base security. Cmdr. Graves remained as overall base security commander and ordered more of his Shadow Company PMCs to restore order to the base. They would arrive sometime in the future. However, it was unclear who would become the overall commander of Azur Lane. Cmdr. Petraeus outranked Cmdr. Overmars but the latter had more experience. The Pentagon and the Supreme Council still haven't concluded their decision too. Hence, Petraeus and Overmars would become Co-Commanders. The two shook hands on the arrangement but tension, danger and opportunity thickened the air. The base was still in chaos, but hopes were high now. Many of the Azur Lane personnel found confidence in the Provisional Command (as it was called). Organized riots had dimmed but many problems persisted. Cmdr. Petraeus focused on improving the morale of the soldiers while Cmdr. Overmars handled the supply. Cmdr. Graves and his men, along with loyal elements of military police, tried their best to keep order.
Hailing from Puyallup, Washington; Cmdr. Graves was well-liked by his PMCs as well as some military personnel. His light brown hair and relaxing green eyes set him apart from most military personnel. However, his real ability was his charisma. His rough and ready west-coast accent made military personnel under his command easier to command. They were more likely willing to listen to his orders. His relationship with the other ship girls was mixed. The aristocrats didn't mind him whereas the republicans viewed him as a potential danger to the fragile establishment.
Likewise, Cmdr. Petraeus also shared a brilliant charisma. Although the Ohioan did possess some strategic competence. His prowess was the innate ability to somehow inspire awe through his speeches. When the Provisional Command was announced to the rest of the Azur Lane coalition, it was met with scepticism at best. Battle-hardened veterans and usually very stubborn personalities such as Queen Elizabeth moved to tears after his speech, promising to return Azur Lane to glory and asking the audience to place trust in the Provisional Command. Of course, they did. Cmdr. Petraeus had the best intentions for Azur Lane and wished to keep it afloat to the best of his ability.
His direct counterpart, more akin to a direct competitor, was the recluse that was Mark Overmars. The Massachusetts man was generally unpopular socially but was seen as the best tactician and logistics officer. Many ship girls, especially the aristocrats, trusted him as a commander but declined to get to know him on a first-name basis. His relationship with the Republicans was more mirky and dependent. Some found him ok whereas others disliked him. Due to his status around the base as 'just-there' and former Cmdr. King for stealing his spotlight. When, in his eyes, King leeched the position of commander from him, he grew cold and cunning. He was immensely jealous of the immense popularity other figures around the base received and truly cared about the few who saw who he was.
Van Persie, however, was the wildcard. Bit by bit, more and more ship girls placed their faith in him. It speaks volumes to other ship girls when legends such as Yorktown places her life in his hands. Jack van Persie was indeed a rare gemstone. He sported innovative and competent ideas, as well as an honest heart and a good head between his shoulders. However, his jet aircraft and skill as a fighter pilot set him apart from all. However, none of the establishment, from the President of the United States to commanders Petraeus and Overmars, and many of both aristocrats and republicans truly trusted 'the kid from Amsterdam'. They accepted working with him, as a necessity in high-intense operations. In normal day-to-day operations, they still regarded him as an outsider, a nobody.
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The 'War Room' of the Azur Lane base was at full capacity. Representatives from each faction attended. Commanders Petraeus and Overmars were hosting the session. Petraeus took to the stage clearing his throat. Van Persie also attended. Van Persie rolled his eyes at the sight.
"More fucking public relations talk," he grumbled, very quietly. Yorktown gently kicked the pilot's leg, trying to hold her laughter back. Van Persie had to give Petraeus props for his beautiful and moving speech, but like most politician talk, it meant nothing. However, as the meeting closed, Van Persie's eyes widened in surprise.
"After the results of the first Azur Lane democratic election, and thanks to your support, I have been named the overall commander of Azur Lane!" Petraeus proudly announced.
"Did I hear that correctly?" Van Persie quietly whispered. "What the fuck?" Van Persie's eyes quickly darted around the room, assessing the reaction. His eyes landed on Overmars. He was completely gobsmacked. The now vice-commander tried his best to hold his jaw in place. Petraeus then swiftly opened the curtains and windows, presenting them with a view of the courtyard of the C&C building. An ocean of people, including a sizable number of ship girls, cheered for the democratic election of Petraeus. Although extremely war-wary, the Azur Lane base was willing to give him a shot.
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Van Persie took a swig of the signature Iron Blood beer from his wooden mug, before carefully placing it back on the table.
"I guess his abilities to charm his audience really did it for him, huh," Van Persie stated. His 'clique' (Yorktown, Richelieu, Enterprise, Bismarck, Vittorio Veneto and Belfast), dubbed by people, nodded in approval.
"Uh-huh," Richelieu replied. "At least he's somewhat competent. I just wonder what he's going to do,"
"Beats me Richi," Vittorio Veneto replied. "Honestly ragazzi (guys but applies for both men and women), if you were the commander or Azur Lane, what would you do?" she asked.
"Fix the damn supply issue for one thing," Enterprise said.
"I completely concur with Ms. Enterprise's statement," Belfast added. The conversation continued for a while, back and forth on how to fix the convoy system. Van Persie remained in silence, gazing at a fixed point, lost in a deep track. Until Vittorio Veneto poked him on the nose, shaking him back to reality.
"You've got an idea, share it with the class," she said.
"How about we simply withdraw from Pearl Harbour," Van Persie stunned the room.
"Absolutely no!" The room shouted back.
"Packing up everything will require more convoys than to supply us," Bismarck stated.
"We would lose all of our gains and progress," Richelieu said.
"Where are we going to find the fuel for us to retreat?" Enterprise asked.
"You know Master, most of the time you are incredible but other times, I'll just leave it at that," Belfast said.
"What does that supposed to mean?" Van Persie responded.
"It means, you should retire to your bed. It's getting late," Belfast added. "And as your personal maid, I will escort you,"
"Not so fast there Belfast. I'm his Wizzo, which basically means I'm his secretary. So that means, I get to escort him back to his room." Yorktown replied quickly. Vittorio Veneto rolled her eyes and smirked before yanking Van Persie away from two.
The Italian battleship and the Dutch pilot walked together. The mood was silent yet sweet as both enjoyed the company. They had arrived at the door to the residential bloc for officers. They said their goodbyes before Van Persie gripped the door handle, opening it until he felt a tug on his shirt. He turned around and it was Vittorio Veneto, with a serious and sincere look.
"Before you go, tell me one thing, honestly Jack,"
"Certo (of course)," Van Persie responded.
"How have you been sleeping?" Vittorio Veneto asked. Van Persie suddenly froze solid, his eyes filling with dread.
"Uh, fine," he responded weakly. "Yeah, I'm fine," he reiterated. Van Persie wished her goodnight before scurrying back to his room.
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Van Persie rubbed his eyes and quickly scanned the room. It was brightly lit with fluorescent bulbs. The surroundings looked cold. He appeared in a thin and long corridor; with white walls and a blue ceiling. Occasionally, there were gurneys with a green plastic sheet over them. With each step he took forward, an eerie echo pulsed out. Van Persie took a gulp and marched onwards. Nearing the corridor, he saw a double push door.
Walking through the doors, he stumbled onto the main room of this creepy place. It was a morgue. The sides of the walls were lined with cold storage units for the deceased. Dotted around, there were multiple clean autopsy tables. However, in the centre of the room, sat a wooden picnic table and two benches, with people quietly sitting on the benches. Van Persie rubbed his eyes again.
"It couldn't be," he quietly said.
Royal Oak, Arizona, Admiral Graf Spee, Huston, Phoenix, Hiryuu and Noshiro remained motionless and upright on the benches. As he carefully and slowly walked closer, the seven ship girls steadily shifted their heads to the distraught pilot.
"Why did you let us die?" A voice erupted. It was Royal Oak's.
"I'm sorry," Van Persie responded. Wiping a tear away from his eye.
"That's it?" Arizona questioned.
"All you can say is sorry?" Admiral Graf Spee continued.
"I tried ok! I fucking tried!" Van Persie shouted. Tears continued to stream down his face.
"The seven of us are dead," Huston said.
"And you really promised yourself to never bury a dead comrade years ago? Look what happened now," Phoenix continued. Van Persie couldn't respond to his tormentors. His knees collapsed and held his hands over his face, trying as best as he could to muffle his cries.
"Jack, listen to his," Hiryuu said. Jack momentarily looked up.
"All coalition forces be advised," Noshiro spoke.
"No, please shut up!" Van Persie begged.
"We have a confirmed nuclear threat in the city. NEST teams are on-site and attempting to disarm,"
"Shut the fuck up!" Van Persie screamed. Tears and melancholy flooded the pilot like a Geiger counter encountering more-and-more radioactive material.
"I repeat, we have a confirmed nuc,-"
"FUCK!" Van Persie roared before jumping out of bed as fast as possible. He stood momentarily, catching a breath before he once again collapsed to the floor and began to cry. He grabbed a pillow to collect his tears. "I'm so sorry," he repeated over and over again. "I should've done a better job. I'm so sorry,"
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The 'War Room' of Azur Lane was once again buzzing. This time, listening posts had discovered Siren DRGs probing the area. The Provisional Command was discussing potential options. The most popular one was an air strike and a fleet sortie. It had been approved and several ship-girls were mobilizing. However, Van Persie was missing. No one knew he was. He wasn't woken up by Belfast due to the rare ability to take care of himself. But Belfast was dispatched. Since Yorktown was his Wizzo and it was an emergency, she had already been dressed in her pilot gear. She too went to check on him.
The door was shut. Belfast raised her hand and knocked several times. No answer. Belfast carefully opened the door and discovered Van Persie on the floor, leaning against the wall. He curled himself up and had his face smashed into the pillow. The two rushed over quickly and shook the pilot. He jolted awake and Belfast removed the pillow. His eyes were completely bloodshot. A section of the pillow had been damp. It wasn't difficult to add things together. The two helped Van Persie to his feet and Yorktown immediately pulled him into a warm embrace.
"Master…" Belfast began, "How long have you had these nightmares,"
"I'm fine," The stubborn pilot responded. He let go of Yorktown's embrace, heading towards the shower. Yorktown informed the pilot about the situation and said in less than twenty minutes, they would have to be airborne. As Van Persie walked into the bathroom, he felt someone tugging on his shoulder, preventing him from walking forward. He spun around and Belfast held him back. Although the maid was extremely good at hiding her emotions and in general, a very difficult person to read. However, out of character, she quickly rushed over and gave the man another warm embrace.
"If you ever need someone to ease your pain at night, please do not hesitate to call,"
Author's note: hello everyone once again. I decided to make this chapter much smaller as it just establishes the "current situation". Also, last week and yesterday, I've been in four different airports, travelling maybe 15+ hours in the air, with a lot more waiting in the airport. I've finally settled down for a week before more travel so the next chapter should be smooth.
Thank you once again to those to read, follow, favourite and review. It really does mean a lot.
Stay tuned for Chapter 13: The Petreaus Offensive