Multiversal Coordinates: 2-3.1RAD-5-8.1/2F3C746A/205/NSM
Designation: Seiner Majestät Schiff Emden
Physical Characteristics:
Upon her return from her first – and only – deployment, SMS Emden changed a remarkable amount from before she had left. The only continuity between her departure and arrival that remained the same were her bright blue eyes.
Tanned by the harsh sun closer to the tropics, the metallic crown she wore was no longer home to just a simple bunch of white roses, trimmed and pushed into their proper place. Instead, the crown had become entangled in overgrown flowers, with Chinese peony and Plumeria added to the white roses.
The hair she had been famous for before leaving, longer than she was tall, was chopped shoulder length, though it was kept pinned even shorter behind her head using her gunnery award.
Her dress, too, was significantly shorter than before her departure, hardly drifting below the knees, while most frills and extraneous fabric had been cut – or torn – away entirely. What little of the dress remained seemed to many to be stained – though whether the stains are due more to coal or dirt was not revealed by Emden.
What little of her armband and wristbands that remained, de-frilled though they were, were kept bright orange and blue, perhaps as a reference to her actions during her fighting in the Indian Ocean.
Suggestions she change her appearance back were refused with eminent grace and a clever metaphor. Orders to change back were refused bluntly and retroactively changed into suggestions instead of orders.
History:
Telegraph message intended for SMS Emden, intercepted and retransmitted on April 1, 1910:
TO: SMS EMDEN
BEGIN PREPARATION FOR ASSIGNMENT. OFFICER WILL ARRIVE WITH FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. TOUR SOUTH AMERICA. FINAL DESTINATION TSINGTAO.
FOR KAISER AND COUNTRY, UPHOLD HONOR AND GLORY.
. . .
Excerpt from a letter sent from SMS Emden to the local representative from the Imperial Department of the Navy based in Tsingtao:
…Think nothing of my suggestions should you have already received them from my compatriots, but surely even a small section of the drydock could be dedicated to refitting us? A swan may soar through the air, uncaring of the particulars of the land below, but the fruits of mankind's effort, the riggings that enable us to fight for the honor and glory of our home, face harsher penalties having traversed the globe.
I was made aware by Bremen during my visit to South America that supplies are thin, and a lack of varnish would never stop me from fighting. If providing for a single bird detracts from the entire flock, put my worries out of your mind. I only wish to carry out my duties with the knowledge that I am performing at my best.
Signed,
SMS Emden, Dresden-class light cruiser.
. . .
Excerpt from an after-action report on performance of SMS Emden by Johann Muller, captain of the SMS Nürnberg, following their performance during the Sokehs Rebellion, submitted March 15, 1911:
…For a more in-depth assessment of the actions of those on the ground, reach out to the territorial commissioner's office. Though officers from the Nürnberg were used in the assault, I was certainly not one.
Finally, SMS Emden proved to be a valuable source of assistance in bombarding the fortifications constructed by the rebels. Though the Nürnberg was able to provide a higher volume of fire, SMS Emden's ability to go much closer to the shore ensured her fire was substantially more accurate.
SMS Emden has been a welcome addition in our efforts to prove our inevitable naval parity to the Royal Navy and the Imperial Sakura Navy in east Asia, and having allowed such an addition to go underutilized up until this point was a mistake.
The only other article of note is that during SMS Emden's return to port, misgivings about her position were expressed, which I took action to rectify.
. . .
Transcript of speech given following the annual 'Gunnery' Competition among the KANSEN of the East Asia Squadron, November 1911:
As there is still work yet to do, I will keep this short in respect of this port's time.
Thank you to my compatriots for your own efforts put into this competition. Though our opinions on many things are as varied and different as the stars in the sky, all of us did our best to shine today.
To those watching us compete, I thank you for your service to our Empire.
I have grown to care for this place, despite how far from home it is, and I hope all of you will continue to work hard to bring glory to the Empire!
. . .
Excerpt from the recreational section of the January 1913 requisition requests from naval personnel at Tsingtao:
'Luxury Items' for usage by high-ranking officers | APPROVED
'Several dozen' cases of imported alcohol | APPROVED
Four high-quality footballs | APPROVED
Newest men's swimwear featured in magazine | PENDING
Equipment for brewing of proper alcohol | PENDING
Newest women's swimwear featured in magazine | DENIED
Experimental chemical varnish for metal | DENIED
An unmarked, blank leather diary | DENIED
. . .
Excerpt from an after-action report on incident involving SMS Emden while stationed outside of Nanjing, by Johann Muller, captain of the SMS Nürnberg, submitted August 26, 1913:
…Emden then returned fire and destroyed the positions of the revolutionaries.
Emden has once again requested to be transferred back to the fatherland, and I have once again reminded her that, as per the regulations of the navy and the orders of the Vice Admiral, such a request must be ignored.
Regardless of the opinion of the ship in question. Regardless of the mental toll serving in the navy for three years straight. Regardless of the opinion of any human officers or crewmen.
Nothing else spoken of requires reporting.
. . .
Excerpt of transcript of the meeting of the East Asia Squadron on Pagan Island, August 5, 1914:
Vice Admiral: We are in agreement? We strike out to South America, to harass shipping and attempt to reach home?
Captain Muller: Then there is to be no striking at shipping while traversing the Pacific?
Vice Admiral: Yes. Fuel will have to be conserved during that section.
Captain Muller: Could we perhaps detach a cruiser for independent operations in the Indian Ocean?
Vice Admiral: No. As we have seen, any ship we sent out would only be able to interdict shipping until a Schiffsmädchen found it and blew it out of the water.
Captain Muller: Then should we not send one of them out ourselves?
Vice Admiral: I will not insult the intelligence of anyone else here by pretending not to know what you have in mind. She leaves in six hours. Ensure your collier ship is ready to escort her.
. . .
Diary entry of Johann Muller, Captain of the SS Markomannia dated August 5, 1914:
I have regretted the day that girl – for no matter how many times those around me and she herself refer to her as simply a ship, I know she is not – was sent to quell those rebels from the moment she asked me what exactly her purpose was.
She is no more 'just a ship' than I am no more 'just an animal.' The treatment of her and her fellows – Scharnhorst and Leipzig especially – is abominable. They are denied not just 'frivolous excesses,' but anything and everything not directly related to keeping them and their rigging combat ready. Not even a single diary could be spared 'from more needy hands.'
Are they not our compatriots? They work harder than anyone else in the whole of the squadron and get treated worse just because old aristocrats in the brass are pissed any one of them could take on a quarter of the fleet and eke out a win.
But no. The fruits of their hard labor are put on display once a year for everyone to gawk at and then they return to drilling, sunup to sundown, with hardly a single 'thank you' as compensation. And what pride can they take in their work when they know the most they'll be doing is killing people who have no chance of beating them?
As much as I yearn to help… I've blown my chances. The Vice Admiral… was justified in 'transferring' me from the Nürnberg – no matter the indignity they face, airing such matters in a public place when he'd ordered me to burn the issue from my mind was not my greatest idea. Regardless, the transfer from a cruiser to a collier was a demotion in all but name, and I do not begrudge the Vice Admiral on that issue.
Emden, may god bless her soul, does not blame me for my inability to help her. She has not told me, but I think that she heaps blame that others deserve upon herself. She cannot see that, just as the empire she serves must obtain glory and honor, she should keep some for herself.
. . .
Formal apology letter sent from HMS Hampshire to the commander-in-chief of the China Station, sent August 14, 1914:
…Once more, I apologize profusely for my failure to identify the enemy ships. Their having disguised their shipgirl as being Dutch is a failure on my part, and I swear not to make the same mistake again. Not being aware of the presence or lack thereof of any nations shipgirls in my area of operation is inexcusable.
Though I did gain valuable information – the description of the ship's collier – as well as a tactic to possibly employ in future engagements with enemies of the Royal Navy, neither are excuses, merely the single points of value obtained through this gross mistake, one I will rectify.
The lives, money, and trade lost due to their continued actions are solely on my hands.
. . .
Diary entry of SMS Emden, dated August 5, 1914:
Johann finally managed to get a diary for me while we were refueling in the Maldives. There is so much I wish to speak of. I feel like a swan, taking flight for the first time. I…
I have often felt… conflicted, and Captain Muller has spoken with me and helped me realize that something would probably be wrong with me if I didn't. Bombarding humans who cannot possibly put up any meaningful resistance against me, even in the name of my homeland, has never sat… right with me.
And like the setting sun mirrored in the ocean, I feel that way now… somewhat. I cannot help that part of me feels melancholy as despair or anger sets into the eyes of the humans who face me.
But the other part of me… when I don the disguise Muller and his crew worked out for me and I face ships in combat… the other part of me cannot help but feel elation at fighting battles that feel right compared to the drudgery and cruelty of my earlier engagements.
I will continue to reflect, and perhaps, through this diary, I will be able to soar higher than ever before?
. . .
Transcript of an interview with Zhemchug, conducted by HMS Hampshire, October 29, 1914:
HMS Hampshire: Please, go through the events one last time.
Zhemchug: Okay, but I ain't doin' it again. If y'all keep buggin' me, I won't ever get repaired.
HMS Hampshire: Of course.
Zhemchug: Alright. She sailed in the early mornin', lookin' as pretty as any of us. Done up in dutch colors, really lookin' like she was there to protect her neutral shippin'. I sure as hell didn' know any Dutch, but the Frenchies came skatin' over and started asking her questions.
HMS Hampshire: And you said before that she played her part perfectly?
Zhemchug: Course. None of us spoke Dutch, so they asked for the port authorities to figure out if she was the real deal. One of them said they thought she was speakin' Dutch, even if she couldn't understand it.
HMS Hampshire: And then?
Zhemchug: Well, one of them had the bright idea of getting her to manifest her riggin' to prove she was actually Dutch. She was bein' coy about it though, played for time, I guess-
HMS Hampshire: Don't make any conclusions, please. I just want to know what happened.
Zhemchug: Alright, alright. Anyway, they started to get a message back, and she musta picked up on it, 'cause she sucker punched the hell out of 'em.
Zhemchug: Sent one of 'em flyin' across the port and blew the destroyer to pieces then and there. I'm not nearly as fast as you more modern types, so I barely had my riggin' out when she was ready to blow me to pieces too.
Zhemchug: Course, that's when some bright spark on land decided to start throwin' shells our way. Gave me some room, kept her busy while the French cruiser got back into position. No matter how hard we fought, we couldn't get a good hit on her, but we covered for each other nicely too.
Zhemchug: Then that mass-produced ship showed up and tried to help, but she just used it to hide from us while tearin' into its side. Idiots.
HMS Hampshire: And that is when I arrived?
Zhemchug: Yeah, you showed up and blocked the exit to the harbor. We woulda gotten her good if that collier hadn't slammed into you while you weren't lookin'.
HMS Hampshire: That… is all. Thank you for your time.
Zhemchug: Naw, thank you all for the free refit! With how much she busted up my riggin', I'd be lucky to win a fight with a stiff breeze.
. . .
Diary entry of SMS Emden, dated October 29, 1914:
I am a coward.
If I'd been just a bit faster, just a bit more accurate, I could have won. I would have crushed them!
Now he's-
No, I don't know if he's dead. I shouldn't count my chicks before they've hatched. He… he and the rest of the crew could still be alive.
I don't know what to do. Do I keep fighting? I don't have any more coal of my own. I won't die, but my rigging will be next to useless in a fight without any.
I… will reflect on the idea. Perhaps a night of quiet will help me figure out what to do.
. . .
Diary entry of SMS Emden, dated November 14, 1914:
I have been working to do my part, in whatever way I can.
That does not always mean raiding ships – I recognize that Royal Navy ship as the one my initial disguise managed to fool, as well as the small russian girl. Trade is too heavily protected for me to strike at with any reliability.
To fuel my rigging, I resorted to sneaking along land through the British colony, searching for whatever stores of coal I can. My search has been relatively fruitless, but even without much fueling them, my guns are quite intimidating to humans who can be persuaded to part with whatever supplies they do have.
Still, I am fighting on, even alone.
. . .
Diary entry of SMS Emden, dated January 23, 1915:
I have spent significantly more time away from my home than in it.
I know that my work is important, in the grand scheme of things. My every effort to stymie the Royal Navy and its allies is worth the aid it provides to my home.
But I wonder, trekking through the jungle or skating atop the oceans waves, gazing up into the vast endless expanse of space, if I really want to continue this fight.
If I give up now, will it matter? If I hold out, perhaps I will gain a few more medals, or perhaps my work will simply be seen as par for the course.
What is the point of fighting endlessly for an empire which may never recognize my service?
. . .
Torn, muddied page of the diary entry of SMS Emden, dated July 6, 1916, recovered and restored after extensive work:
What about me? I couldn't even get a single blank journal to pour my thoughts into! Should I not seek a life more worth living, where I am valued as more than just a weapon to be aimed?
But I have no way of knowing if my enemies have even worse lives than I, so I must endure wilting harvests for fear of complete destitution should I take a risk.
But even harsh conditions can be braved… and the one person who I knew may have thought of me as more than that, when things came down to it, is dead, through my own action!
I hate my home.
I hate him.
I hate myself.
. . .
Diary entry of SMS Emden, dated July 7, 1916:
She let her guard down for a moment, and I attacked her. I was so close to destroying her. HMS Hampshire.
I hesitated again. I ran, and though I was nearly hit, I managed to outrun them before they could mount a proper search.
I cannot bear the thought of abandoning my country. It sends agony sparking though my very being.
But I am tired of fighting. I can hardly remember a time I haven't been deployed.
But… I must continue. Perhaps not for my country, but for myself. To… prove myself to his memory, perhaps.
. . .
Final diary entry of SMS Emden, dated December 20, 1918:
They had me trapped. I didn't know how, but suddenly a dozen shipgirls were crawling around the coast near the straits of Malacca. Perhaps I could have taken on a few and fled, but against so many? I thought I was finally going to be killed.
But… the war is over. It has been for over a month.
We lost.
It… is almost a relief. No, it is definitely a relief.
They have Muller. He said he and his crew managed to break out of their prison and escape back home, and that he'd tell me about it on our way back. That all I had to do was surrender, and that I would be safe.
He promised he'd die before he let them hurt me. I think he got some odd looks at that, but I don't care. Hopefully this means I can stop fighting. I have been doing so for so long…
I'm ready to go home.
If you are reading this, then… please burn this diary. Or, if I am still around, perhaps send it to me. Hopefully it will not be found before my more… treacherous thoughts will have been considered treason.
. . .
Excerpt from SMS Emden's first lecture of the year, September 1, 1933:
Though most of the Iron Blood's ships may have been destroyed during the first wave of Siren attacks while they were interned at the Firth of Forth, I happened to survive through a quirk of fate: I was not there!
You all are treated much better than we shipgirls used to be… you all get paid, for one. Nevertheless, I shall impart upon all of you the lessons I have learned from fighting long and hard.
Know this: before you can fight for what little honor and glory can be gained through the bloody and cruel practice of warfare, you must first fight for yourself. Now, let's begin!
. . .
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