A sour mood was firmly planted in Tennessee as she crossed her arms.
She was not at the slightest amused by what she saw.
"... How the hell did this happen?" she demanded. The base infirmary was never an uplifting place. The lingering stench of medicine made for a miasma of anxious dread. Even on the best of days, the beds sat in silent and foreboding anticipation. So long as there was war to be waged, the place would be stained with its blood.
Which is why Tennessee scowled when she arrived to see Cleveland, Helena, Tea Time, and Ark Royal return in such stricken states. Weary faces accompanied their soot and ash-covered clothes as the two Royal Navy maids and manjuus diligently tended to them (the exception was Ark Royal whom they simply left with noseplugs and a blood pack. "Special case" the Royal Navy maids claimed...).
They were all alive, thankfully. But if things had played out differently…
Tennessee turned to Fort Grace with a glare. "This was supposed to be an escort operation. Was the fleet intercepted?"
"Call it… a series of mishaps we couldn't anticipate..." The carrier spoke with grave sincerity. "Their drone fleet barred our path, and when we engaged the Rose Kingdom's own ships closed in. Among them was their sharpshooter Herne who did the damage."
Tennessee dismissed her words with a scoff. "Unbelievable. And just who was it that we nearly scrapped three of our cruisers to get?"
"Yo."
As if on cue, Tennessee heard an unfamiliar voice behind her. Turning, she was greeted at the sight of a visitor standing in the doorway, leaning against the post without care or manner. As she spoke, her tone was as informal as her appearance.
"So you're one of the backup that Grace called, huh." The ship scanned Tennessee with somewhat amused eyes, as if she cared only enough to know her but not as a close friend.
Delta Coalition Aircraft Carrier
WHITE VALLEY
"Suppose we haven't met. You can call me White Valley. Aircraft carrier."
In return, Tennessee took in the sight of the guest. A mane of fiery red seemingly burned atop of her head with sharp strands cutting across over her face like scars. A dark-colored flight suit donned her body along with fingerless gloves of black leather, but her chest was left unzipped where a gaudy inferno pattern was etched upon her black bra.
Tennessee took a quick moment to look over the newcomer one last time with an epiphany in mind.
'White Valley. Riiiight...'
Fort Grace stepped forth to greet the carrier as she entered. "Good to see you again, White Valley. This is Tennessee, a battleship of Eagle Union, member of the task force dispatched to help drive back the Rose Kingdom."
White Valley smirked. "Battleship, huh? You packing some serious firepower, old timer?"
Instantly, Tennessee scowled. "'Old timer'? Do you have something to say? If so, spit it out."
White Valley shrugged with indifference. "Just yanking your chain there, big guy. We're all on the same team now, aren't we?"
A finger darted towards the casualties. "And three of our own returned with considerable damage just so you could arrive safely!"
The carrier glanced at the wounded with faux thoughtfulness. "Is that was this is about? I'm not paid to be sentimental but I appreciate the thought."
Tempers flared. "Why you-!"
"Enough! Both of you!" Tennessee found herself impeded by Fort Grace, her hand gentle but stern. "We paid a greater price than was expected during that battle. But if we fight amongst ourselves now we'll squander whatever gains we made. It's like White Valley said: we're all on the same team. So long as we're together we'll find a way to turn this around."
The battleship relented but continued to glare at the carrier. "... Fine. I'll put up with you, but you better show me your chops."
Fort Grace sighed in relief whereas White Valley snickered. "I guess you had your hands full while I was away?"
"Were it not for the intervention of the SSF and the Azur Lane, I certainly would have," replied Fort Grace. "But enough about that. What was your situation?"
Another casual shrug. "Nothing positive, that's for sure. All coastlines guarded real well. Zapland, Expo City, you name it. Kingdom's dug in real good on the mainland."
Fort Grace mulled over the thought. "Hm. There'll be no chance for us to stage any offensive. Not with our current strength..."
A hand slapped hard on her back, accompanied by cheerful banter. "Cheer up. Long as the fight's entertaining and there's a decent reward in it, I ain't ditching you guys behind."
Just then, footsteps entered the room. Through the open entrance, Kestrel and Vulture appeared.
"Fort Grace, we have a a situation. A strikeforce of those mass-produced warships was detected in the area. They appear to be headed towards our base!"
The Coalition carrier looked around the room with a worried look. "I'm afraid we don't have a lot of options on who to send out. I'd go but my rigging is still undergoing repairs."
To her surprise, Tennessee promptly turned to depart. "I'll sortie. Can't stand sitting around moored at base."
Fort Grace looked up in surprise, but said nothing. In the short period of silence, she found no objection to make. "Alright. Tennessee will sortie with an escort. I'd rather have the infirmary stay vacant, so stay safe out there everyone…
"... Because I have a bad feeling about this."
Out into the open sea once more.
Tennessee kept her eyes glued to the horizon, every outline a potential enemy. Her posture, angled forward against the breeze, was held as tightly as a pulley as she sailed at top speed. Her guns sat poised, hungry only for a target as she lead the formation.
A voice called out from behind. "Hey, big guy!"
The battleship barely turned her head in acknowledgement. "What is it?"
"Ease up a bit, will ya? We're not even at the contact point yet."
"Don't give me that crap," the battleship rebuked. "I've been through enough battles to know better than to pretend that our enemy fights by our schedule. Just because we haven't arrived yet doesn't mean that the enemy won't get the drop on us."
"And I've been through enough battles to know that it doesn't matter," her companion joked. "If we run into the enemy, then we've found them, and they've found us. Simple as that."
Tennessee peered towards the source of the familiar voice with narrow eyes. To her side was White Valley now in her own rigging. Like the Federation carriers, it consisted of two halves, each occupied by a prominent piece of the black carrier flight deck which hung beside her shoulders. Yet what struck her the most out of everything was the brazen splash of blood-red in the vague shape of flames and a fanged mouth situated on both bows of her hull; the handiwork of a cocksure mercenary like White Valley.
Tennessee glowered at such presumptuous display. It already reminded her too much of those Ironblood ships…
And now she was paired with her of all people in a two-ship interception fleet.
The battleship sighed. Then, with silent grumbling, steeled herself. The mission, no matter her feelings and prejudices, was paramount here.
"You're about five more klicks to the contact point," Andromeda's voice buzzed in. "Keep your eyes peeled and weapons ready."
"Always was," Tennessee muttered. She scanned the distance, trying to pierce it to unveil what secrets lay ahead. Intently she stared until she caught specks not on the sea but rather above.
"Aircraft sighted!"
"Bearing 250, it's them!" Andromeda added. "Commence combat but don't push your luck!"
The battleship ceased to a halt as she took aim but felt wind brush past her. "Alright, time to earn my paycheck!" White Valley cheered as she dashed ahead. Her two flight decks swung into place, shooting out plumes of flame that streaked across the air like phoenixes until out of the fires, a formation of iris-spotted Su-35 Flankers emerged engines already roaring for battle.
A loud spirited shout rang out as White Valley's planes shot off. "C'mon let's get the bread! Woooooo!"
Behind her, Tennessee could only shake her head in exasperation.
Around her, the ocean waves billowed in the upset wind.
The skies were overcast this day.
Elsewhere in the sea, they listened to the distant thunder of a skirmish.
"Sounds like it's them again," Herne commented. Her grip on the rifle tightened with eager anticipation. "Not sure who the Delta Coalition invited but we're gonna find out!"
"Hm. Indeed."
Beside her, in her usual finery, stood Tanager. With an air of confidence, the battleship merely gazed into the beyond. Though her eyes barely made out shapes, she imagined the battle playing out within her mind. A glorious clash of physical prowess; an open relationship between opposing ideologies; a test of righteousness.
"Tell me, Herne," she began, a sly smirk on her lips. "What do you see through the scope of yours?"
The destroyer peered through the lens with an observant eye. "Let's see… It's that carrier of theirs, White Valley, and… Huh."
"Hm?"
"There's a battleship among them, a real one. It must be from the Federation's ally, the so-called Azur Lane."
Herne felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw that Tanager's expression remained the same but she saw a subtle twinkle in her eyes: a piece of her soul flickering in anticipation, a spark of great passion.
A malevolent desire.
"... Herne, be so kind as to leave this battleship to me."
A baffled look popped up on the destroyer's face but in under a second, she extinguished it. "Sure. Want me to provide support?"
"I believe that won't be necessary," Tanager replied. "In fact, as my disciple I would like you to instead observe the battle closely."
As if she knew, Tanager continued before Herne could say anything. "Tell me, Herne. When you aim, what is it that you aim for?"
Herne scratched her head as she thought. "I… aim to make sure that I'm the best sniper of not just the Kingdom but in the world!"
Tanager smiled as if she found provoking humor in the statement. "As expected of you, Herne. You are no doubt a great asset to me and the Rose Kingdom with your skills of which they have yet to be rivaled. But I take this as a sign that there is still something left to enlighten you with.
"You see, conflict is but a relationship, one that assumes our drive in an accessible form. When one fights, they fight to perpetuate their motives, their beliefs. But in doing so, incompatible beliefs are terminated. War is nothing more than a series of such necessary exchanges, in which victory is measured only by one's ability to eradicate opposing beliefs. That is ambition - that is what drive is.
"When you fight, you must fight for yourself, your beliefs, your life. When you fight, you must fight to ensure that your ideals propagate while your enemy's does not. When you fight, you must fight without hesitation, without restraint, for your foe will be doing the same.
"... Therefore, when you take aim, you must aim to kill."
Without sparing a glance, Tanager move ahead. "Ensure that I will not be interrupted but observe my duel with that lesson in mind."
Although she had dutifully served under Tanager's care as a loyal servant to the will of the Rose Kingdom, Herne couldn't help but shiver at her queen's icy smirk.
Another deafening roar. Another quarry struck.
Around Tennessee, the waters were slick with black oil. Ahead of her the enemy warships bled, their twin-headed design telling of their role: aircraft carriers of Siren make. Their presence foreshadowed by the abundance of aircraft didn't surprise her.
Another routine combat mission with a predictable outcome.
Tennessee glanced around, seeing wrecks and targets alike. She looked unimpressed. "This is their strike force?"
"Apparently," Andromeda replied, her voice tinged with wariness. "The enemy armada's much smaller than the one encountered previously."
Jets swooped overhead, unleashing a torrent of missiles almost haphazardly. "Big or small, I smell easy money!" White Valley boasted.
An explosion; another enemy ship destroyed. And then another.
Tennessee's ears picked up the whine of jet engines - Siren's. Her secondaries instantly swung in the direction of the sounds and within seconds she reduced yet another remnant of the enemy air wing into scrap. She didn't even bother to look.
"Nice moves, old timer! You're not bad."
More Siren aircraft passed by, appearing directionless, almost in panicked retreat before a host of Flankers. Ruthlessly, their chase ended with all obsidian birds reduced to scrap metal before White Valley's planes returned their focus to the last remaining carrier ships. Like vicious carrion, they picked apart their prey, leaving nought but flaming wrecks.
"... And you're not bad yourself, you hot-head," retorted Tennessee. "But I'm still not quite impressed."
A hearty laugh erupted. "Aw you're breakin' my heart here! I think I'm going to need a repair ship for my feelings… Some quality service back at base wouldn't hurt either..."
Tennessee scoffed but that was all she could say before an alert rang in her ear.
"Warning! Bogey inbound closing fast! Bearing 250!"
250 - the enemy's approach vector. Tennessee swung her gaze over.
Outside the smoke-filled air of an ended skirmish, among the pristine waters of gathering waves, she spied a lone figure hurtling towards her. Spewing water trailed high in the figure's wake.
It was a ship. The unmistakable aura of a human, in both form and potential cunning.
A single ship…
Either the enemy was desperate, the ship was foolhardy to go alone…
Or she was the enemy's ace, a champion worthy of their ranks.
The closer she got, the wider Tennessee's eyes became.
The ship's rigging was of behemothic magnitude, dwarfing its user in its implicit cast-iron strength. A pearl white hull, festooned with orange trimming, striking gold rose sculptures, and even a flag of orange and white that whipped and curled proudly above her from a lone pole; emblems of this person's prestige and her nation's grandeur. Sets of grand gun batteries flanked her in pairs yet their size did not oppress her, rather their triple guns emboldened her. Its wearer was a well-groomed woman whose seeming charm, royalty, and elegance clashed with a thirst for battle in her eyes.
A rival battleship, mightier than she had seen before.
Immediately, Tennessee moved to intercept. Her eyes locked onto the enemy battleship.
And her eyes were locked onto her.
Her gaze shone with battle now more than ever.
Suddenly, a flash. The crackle of thundering guns shook the ocean. Tennessee grunted in pain as the blow hammered her, the shockwaves ripping the water from the shattering blow of a direct hit.
But it would far from enough to put her down. Not without a fight.
Tennessee smirked with grim determination. For her to hit from outside her own range, it was a commendable feat. But for a direct hit, her opponent had only offered one shot.
Andromeda's voice cut in in her ear. "Tennessee, what's your status?"
"Engaged with their reinforcement," she answered. "A battleship."
"Woah, hold up!" White Valley suddenly interjected. "You said 'battleship'?"
"Yeah. Large-caliber guns, white exterior -"
When White Valley spoke again, it was with a tone Tennessee had never heard. "Aw hell... That's Tanager! Old timer - Tennessee, break off! Break off!"
'Too late for that now...' Shrugging off the initial damage, Tennessee leapt forward into the fray, vigor refueled and renewed.
She would see for herself what there was to be afraid of this battleship.
Tennessee dashed to combat speed, shifting laterally from her foe who mirrored the action. Her own guns - proud 14-inch cannons bolstered with improved firing control - swiveled into firing position. With a shout, her cannons roared. A flash of thunder as the waters trembled from her volley.
The seas exploded. But when it subsided, Tennessee saw Tanager unscathed from her wrath.
A miss? Tennessee grimaced at the thought. But it would've been too quick and too easy if her shots had hit.
From behind, Tennessee picked up the familiar whine of jet engines. She glanced up in time to see one of White Valley's white Su-35 swoop overhead. It shot towards Tanager like an arrow of final victory. But before it could strike, it suddenly exploded, finally showering the waters with the refuse of a slain ally.
Tennessee blinked in surprise. She looked at Tanager, but neither she nor her rigging had not moved out of place.
Then, in the far horizon past Tanager's shoulder, Tennessee spotted the culprit. She made out a small-bodied destroyer whose weapon rivaled her own profile. A gun that was aimed squarely at Tennessee and White Valley - a sniper.
A sudden bang rang out. In the split-second Tennessee could see the tracer of the shell, she flinched out of the way, only for the shot to land by the feet of the carrier, warding her back. Tennessee whirled back to the destroyer, waiting for the inevitable.
Yet despite the clear shot, none came.
Then it all clicked together. Though Tennessee had just met their sniper, she had a strong feeling the missed shot was intentional. From the way the destroyer swatted the plane out of the sky, her warning shot, and the continued stare of her rifle, Tennessee understood: this was to be a duel. And only she was invited.
"Stay out of this, White Valley," Tennessee ordered. "She's mine."
Without waiting for a protest, Tennessee bolted forward. A cruel smile spread across Tanager's face in a taunt.
Only the strongest will survive.
Beats of cannons, like those of a war drum, deafened the seas. The water and air drowned in such spectacle of power and might. Thunder to rival even the gods. It was all too familiar to Tennessee.
Yet, as much of a privilege it was to wield such power, she had never been so disappointed in its shortcoming.
"Another miss…?" Growling, she continued to catch fleeting glimpses of Tanager, her exterior and smirk untouched by even the wrath she brought. Through the acrid smoke and sea now smelling of gunpowder, Tennessee spied her foe skirting within reach yet just outside of her touch.
There was no mistaking it: she was no fool in personal combat.
Tennessee's eyes remained glued to the guns of her foes: monstrous main guns and rows of secondaries, all seeking her out. Side to side did she leap, making sure to never remain still in one place. The two adversaries circled, snaked, chased, and dodged.
A single flash. Tennessee grunted at yet another hit against her. She retaliated with thunder of her own, only for them to remain unanswered as her shells struck empty waters.
Though injured, the Eagle Union battleship felt nothing amiss in her rigging. Her turrets and cannons moved without falter as she continued to hound her foe. The heat from the impact was nothing compared to the fire in her heart as she doggedly pursued Tanager in the dance of death.
She charged, almost like an arrow aimed for her foe's heart. Closing in, Tennessee braved another shot before unveiling her guns. With a war cry, she fired. Tanager emerged from the wall of sprayed water, intact and spotless.
… Save for a small, but powerful fist-sized streak that blemished her once impervious armor. Though it merely left a dent, Tennessee smiled inside.
She had finally tasted blood and now craved for more.
Tennessee looked at Tanager and for a split-second swore she saw an unusual expression. But it was back to a predatory smile and the duel resumed. Around and around they went, a clash of inertia between juggernauts. Everything faded into a blur to Tennessee.
Cannons loaded - thunder roared again. Failed to strike Tanager.
Dash to the side, adjust aim. Fire again.
Eyes tracked her foe, her head on a swivel, keeping her in her field of vision.
Another flash from one of Tanager's guns. Damage minimal, still combat-effective.
Thoughts racing, the world outside their fight a blank, only her image remained.
Tennessee kept firing, her barrels heated like her passion, but struggled to find their mark whereas her foe always found theirs. Like art, one of Tanager's gun bit into her; her opportunistic precision versus Tennessee's haymakers.
"Come on!" Tennessee bellowed.
Another barrage and this time another hit but to little effect. Tanager's image continued to dart around her vision as she got away with only superficial damage.
"Come on!" She gave chase, two behemoths of the sea playing cat-or-mouse. For battleships, the duo zipped with impressive speed, both keeping each other in their sights - and crosshairs.
"Come on!" Her gun batteries echoed her sentiments, her desire for overcoming adversity. With furious anger they sang.
But as Tennessee began to slowly realize, her guns were the only ones singing.
Whisps of tired soot hung in the air. Tennessee found the air troubling to breathe in as she panted. Vapor from all the cannonfire misted around her, her very own rain on her parade.
The same mist hung around Tanager, yet it seemingly did not blemish her nor her spirits; even the proud banner high above her head was without tear or wear. The same condescending smile was stuck on her lips.
Then, for the first time, Tennessee heard her voice.
"You're quite the entertainer. But the show's over with this next shot." The tone was as smooth as a dagger.
Tennessee clenched her teeth. She fired another salvo in hopes to catch her unaware, but her enemy zipped aside.
Doggedly, she dashed to the side in continued pursuit. Never did a treasonous thought of ceasing graced her mind as she pushed herself, ever in high-stakes motion. The fire within her waxed evermore, her unquenchable thirst for combat yearning for blood.
Yet as she chased, her foe continued to evade and more unusually, held her fire.
What was she waiting for? A sure shot?
No, she had enough chances.
Tennessee won't give her another.
So who cared if her foe wasn't firing back?
She'll keep hammering at her until she wins - until she proves herself above this supposed equal.
The two battleships stepped to the side in opposite directions; once again the circling dance. Once again, her cannons were loaded; once again, Tennessee took aim.
As the barrels came closer and closer, she felt as if the waters between them was shrinking. She felt as if she could reach out and actually touch her - to strike her down with all her might.
Closer… closer…
Then Tanager swerved in another direction, her vector towards her guns. There was no way she could dodge this.
Then, right as she let loose her killing blow, she saw it. Through the shower of churned water and vapor, a star-like glimmer of blue-white light.
Her shells hit home, but they failed to strike as split halves tumbled harmlessly into the water.
In Tanager's hands lay a great longsword, its cobalt blade glistening as the humid air paid homage with dancing lights reflecting off of it. The metal shone with unnatural property as it was held high in the air, its texture unmarred as it sliced all of Tennessee's 14-inch shells in half. So unimaginable a display it was that the very air was parted by its swing, an open maw where both saw each other with startling clarity.
Then Tennessee's eyes went wide.
From that sudden turn, Tanager had swerved to a stop. The two faced each other with nothing to hide behind - smoke, armor, or even facades. But as Tanager turned, so did all of her guns.
All turned directly towards Tennessee.
Thunder like no other roared and the oceans trembled. The power and testament of a battleship gone full broadside, and this time Tennessee felt it at close range.
She felt the heavy shells punch into her hull and body. She felt the metal exterior of her rigging be punctured and scorched. She felt the heat and shockwaves against her toughened skin. She felt it all as she plummeted on her back with a violent splash.
Blackness threatened to choke her vision as she lay stunned. Numbness tingled in her rigging now blanketed in black smoke. Her hearing was lost to the ringing that twisted her senses. Pain snaked within her body like electricity, her joints and flesh aching. As much as it gripped her mind, she refused to lay low.
'Better… in pain… than dead…!'
Tennessee tried to force herself up, her efforts held down by the weight of throbbing pain. Painstakingly, she raised her head. The frame of her opponent filled her blurry vision as she stood triumphant, her sword twinkling in pale blue.
Suddenly, a flash of brilliant light as Tanager's cannons erupted. Burning pain stabbed all over Tennessee once more.
Then Tanager fired again.
And again.
Tennessee would howl in agonizing pain, but it would fall on deaf ears of her foe.
A fiery sensation paralyzed her as she lay unmoving. Her vision faded in and out, seesawing between life and death. The mortal world fell mute as only a faint beat thumped in her ears. Her lungs had a scent of charcoal as she struggled to breathe.
As Tennessee clung to consciousness by her fingertips, a shadow entered her view. It was her again. She had not realized that the barrage had ended. Although her grip on life remained tenuous, the fallen battleship heard Tanager make her declaration.
"Such passion… and yet, so little drive. You never had a chance."
Her sword was raised high above her head. Tennessee's instinct cried for her to move - to resist in any way - but her body refused to budge.
"... You are undeserving of even a meaningful death."
Tennessee would not tear her gaze away, the sword's glow seemingly etched into the last vestiges of her memory.
Tanager's missile alarm blared in her ears. She looked up in time to almost take a missile to the face, saved only by the fortunate swing of her sword at the last second. Her eyes focused to what lay ahead and glared at the three figures speeding towards her.
Fort Grace directed the unified attack, her fighters already in the air. "Missiles away! Cover for Tennessee!"
Beside her, Kestrel and Buzzard followed suit, launching simultaneous attacks. "Missiles away, missiles away!"
An angry storm of missiles filled the air, intended for their prized victim.
"Tch!" Tanager leapt back, all guns brought to the forefront. As the missiles approached, her guns lit up, responding with their own storm of lead and flak. The two collided in midair, a shell for every missile, obscuring the seas with a blanket of black.
"Pathetic," Tanager sneered. Her thoughts were interrupted as as she warded off another missile, but this time from her flank.
"C'mon old timer!" White Valley jeered. "Scrapyard called and they want you back!" Swinging her rigging forward, the sides opened up to reveal a cache of her own missiles.
Battleship guns whirled to the side and in the flash of belching fire the missiles were intercepted. From the smoke, Tanager spotted her planes darting through as they unleashed their payload. Waving her hand with an grimaced look, Tanager unleashed her secondaries. With the air choked with interception fire, nothing dared to touch the Rose Kingdom's queen.
When the air cleared, Tanager found herself confronted by the four carriers of the allied forces. She glared at the ships arrayed against her, defiant to their will and in open challenge.
As though looking at a mirror, Tanager saw the same gesture returned by her many foes.
As numerous as they may be, it would do them no good.
Suddenly, Geofon's voice crackled from her radio. "My liege. The fleet is beginning to assemble at the designated location. Your presence is required."
Thoughts of hatred paused, Tanager considered. "Very well. Maintain order until I return."
She looked back at her adversaries as they took the opportunity to cautiously recover the body of their battleship, her clothes in tatters and rigging ravaged with scars. She observed as they tended to their limp comrade, giving her their silent sympathies.
With a scoff, Tanager turned to walk away.
A familiar voice called out behind her. "Where do you think you're going?!"
"To attend to more meaningful affairs," the battleship replied without turning. "I have already accomplished what I've set out to do: witnessing the so-called forces of the coalition aligned against the righteous Kingdom. As expected your alliance have proven to be toothless and insipid."
Tanager imagined the kind of reaction that was Fort Grace's face as she said it. Was it a look of incredulity? Anger, fear, confessed impotence?
She smiled at the possibilities before she continued.
"Continue to play to my expectations, imbeciles, for our future encounters. Humor me… for you will perish beneath our heel in good time."
With her last words in, Tanager cooly made her departure.
She strolled past Herne as she kept her rifle poised. The conclusion left a confused look on the destroyer, but she diligently trailed close behind Tanager.
Herne had obeyed her queen. She had observed the duel.
As close as she was to the battleship, there were some things that she knew to be left unanswered… or unasked.
The smell of medicine.
Like a rising dawn, the sensation steadily crept. The scent flowed in and out as she recognized her own breathing. Her weary body felt the soft cushion as she began to feel again.
Then the soreness kicked back in and Tennessee stirred.
"Arrrgh..." When the battleship opened her eyes, her vision was greeted with glaring white. Only when her sight corrected itself did Tennessee realize she was in the pearly-white interior of the base infirmary. As she was about to grumble about the overhead lamp burning into her eyes, Tennessee spotted the only blemish in the room's purity, sitting on the bed beside her.
"Yo buddy. Still alive?"
Tennessee's head flopped back down on the cot. "I wish I wasn't."
White Valley's shoulders rocked with playful laughter. "Harsh, man. Harsh. But to be fair, I honestly didn't expect you to make it. Even though I rushed back as fast as I could..."
Tennessee's ears piqued. "Y-you were the one who towed me back?"
"Yep. Reinforcements arrived right before Tanager sent you dancing with the angels (Angelsea Sanctum phrase, don't ask). There was no way any of us could let you be offed like that so we bailed you out as best we could."
Tennessee looked at her weird, part-annoyed and part-amused. "... I thought you weren't paid to be sentimental."
"Oh, no I wasn't. I dragged your sorry ass back to port for free. You're welcome by the way."
Grumbling, Tennessee tried to rest but the pain that pricked all throughout her body kept her forcibly bound in consciousness. Soreness continued to grip her joints as she settled in for a restless experience.
Uncomfortable as it may be, to be alive was a sliver of solace.
Tennessee stared ahead, her eyes looking instead at her memories. "... Tanager. Who is she?"
The carrier's face shifted into a more serious outlook at the mention of the name. Tennessee noticed her foolhardy air seemingly evaporate as she replied.
"Tanager… Well, for starters, she's a battleship, Iowa-class. An old timer like you. Even in this time and age, an ol' hunk-a-junk like her is still kicking around. Not bad for someone in charge of the Rose Kingdom, far as I'm concerned she earned it. As luck turned out, you happened to be on the wrong end of her guns that day. Knowing you're a battleship must have pegged you in her sights."
Tennessee remained silent. She thought back to the duel, fresh - and visceral - memories coming to clarity. She thought back to how it all played out, how she had witnessed her foe's strength before her even if it was nothing unusual for battleships...
No. Tennessee realized it wasn't strength that defeated her. Not by itself.
She remembered how Tanager's guns picked at her the way she did early in the duel with only a fraction of her firepower. It frustrated her back then, but now it dawned on Tennessee: her enemy had never seen her as an equal to begin with.
Ever since the fight - no, even before the fight began, the battleship saw in her not a capable threat, not even competition, but a toy. And like one, Tennessee had been played.
The smile that was on Tanager's lips throughout the fight was one of amusement - in more ways than one. And the way she dealt the finishing blow...
An ordinary ship would be chilled to the bone knowing how close they came to paying the ultimate price against such a ruthless opponent.
But Tennessee still lived. Though beaten, she was no stranger to the taste of defeat. And as bitter as it was, it now made her crave for something else, something greater...
As she thought, she realized that the pain wasn't so bad anymore.
"Heh..."
White Valley looked up to see an unusual expression on the battleship's face. "A ship of her caliber… When the world and its implements of war have moved on, she remained as an old guard of an earlier time. Only the strongest of ships could remain unmoved by time or change for as long as she has.
"That time, I met a ship stronger than me, and it was only luck that I didn't meet my end right then and there. But I won't let this second chance go to waste. If we're to win this war, then I have to get stronger - strong enough to take her on. I believe in survival of the fittest but no way am I going to let her roll over me like that again. If she's the best they got then I'll fight harder and show her that I am too! No… more than that!"
A pause followed before White Valley began chuckling. "Damn straight! Tanager may be a mean bitch to take down but she's worth a lot if we do, and I'm not just talking about money! To come across someone who thinks they're the best and that everyone should be scared of them… Nothin' makes me feel more alive than taking them down! Nothing feels better than fighting someone that everyone calls the best and proving them wrong!"
For what seemed like a first time in an eternity, Tennessee cracked a small smile in agreement.
"Took the words out of my mouth, White Valley."
The carrier's cocky grin returned as if to answer. "Get well so you can kick ass, Tennessee."
Off on the far end of the infirmary hall, consigned to sweeping duty, was Vulture as she shook her head in disbelief.
"You people are weird..."
Looking through the window, the dark gloomy clouds mirrored the air within the office.
Though appearing calm, Fort Grace was perturbed by recent events. Everyone gathered was not fooled by her facade.
"So we're down three cruisers and now a battleship on top of that," Buzzard sighed. "It will take time before they can return to duty so until then it must be up to us to hold back the tide."
Kestrel was tight-lipped as she bore a worried look. "Tennessee… She'll live, won't she?"
"She will," Fort Grace answered gently. "The damage she sustained was grievous but it's mainly her rigging that's in severe disrepair." The answer was as much of a reassurance for herself as it was for the young carrier.
The delicate sound of flowing water and the sweet aroma of tea reminded all of the Royal Navy presence. "I can assure you that Tennessee is a hardy and resilient ship," Ark Royal added. "But as glad I am to see her still alive I am appalled by the damage done to her. Just who could have done such a thing?"
"That… was the work of their battleship Tanager," Fort Grace replied. The mere mention of her name broke her facade, and all could see her grim visage. "This is bad news."
Ark Royal felt lost by the carrier's tone. "A single battleship is bad news? How can that be so?"
Buzzard caught her attention with a curt cough. "It's not so much the battleship herself that is the grave threat… but what she represents."
"Tanager is the Rose Kingdom's flagship, isn't she?" asked Kestrel. "How unusual is it for the flagship to take to the field?"
"For her, it is," the Delta Coalition carrier responded. "She made regular appearances leading the Rose Kingdom ships into battle early into the war, personally leading a series of successful offensives. But now they've pushed us back on all fronts they've shifted more towards using those mass-produced Siren ships to cover the ground they've gained. During that time, encounters with Rose Kingdom ships have been infrequent, and Tanager had made no appearances."
"... Until today."
Fort Grace nodded. "Right you are. She wouldn't make a sudden reappearance without a reason."
"Aside from taunting us..." Buzzard silently muttered.
"... And from what she said, it looks like she has something planned," Fort Grace continued. She paused, the dawning conclusion filling her with dread. "It must be… it's the Aegir Fleet she's gathering."
Ark Royal looked up. "The Aegir Fleet?"
"The 'Invincible' Aegir Fleet is a contingent of the Rose Kingdom under the command of their flagship Tanager," explained Fort Grace. "It's earned the nickname of 'Invincible' thanks to a lengthy history of victories and successful campaigns, in turn thanks to their ships which are among the best the Rose Kingdom has to offer. All ships we've encountered - Herne, Belgua, and Lazuli - are members of that elite Fleet. In short, it's the pride and primary arm of the Rose Kingdom.
"Though we've only encountered elements of the Aegir Fleet, they've proven to be capable even on their own… And if they're to gather as one, it will spell our defeat."
The air fell silent. All ships exchanged worried looks as the implications seeped in.
Kestrel broke the muted atmosphere with the first hint of hope. "So what can we do to avert this?"
Fort Grace rose from her seat. Like a spark, hope arose. "Our own survival is most paramount. Ark Royal, I apologize if the Azur Lane is unable to conduct their investigations of Siren involvement here, but warding off the Aegir Fleet must take top priority."
"I take no offense," the carrier replied gracefully. "If there is a way you would like the Royal Navy to contribute, I shall dispatch Sheffield and Edinburgh for undercover operations."
The Coalition carrier nodded with approval. "I thank you, we'll need all the help we can get. Now, we must approach our battles with more tact; we cannot afford to lose our ships."
"Of course. No sense in trying to beat our foes at their own game," agreed Buzzard, her senses already sharpening.
"Nevertheless, the fact remains that the Aegir Fleet is our target - their mobilization will be disaster for us and their defeat will ensure our victory. Our course of action is now clear!"
At once, all ships rose from their seats. The air no longer hung with looming defeat, but was now filled with one of determination that shone on the faces of all present.
"The Rose Kingdom Aegir Fleet must be defeated… in any way possible!"