Uncharted Skies: Revolution

by Rugger556

Lt. Jack Van Persie, a seasoned pilot who was killed in action awakens from death and is thrust into the world of Azur Lane. The Azur Lane coalition is faltering: a fragile command system, poor morale, low supply and incompetent leadership. Change and danger are brewing. Can Van Persie guide the coalition to a brighter future or will Azur Lane be thrown into the dustbin of history?

4. Chapter 4 - Urgency

Author's note: I am not a pilot. I'm just a 17-year-old High-School student. If I get any of the terminology or physics wrong, mea culpa. Also, this chapter was delayed due to my exams. Exams are almost over so expect the next Chapter to come out next week or so.

Jack Van Persie. Callsign 'Sabre'

Unaffiliated. Lancer 2-4

3/5/1949 – 16:50 Local Time

Hawaii

Operation Badger: Gather intelligence regarding anything interesting

Van Persie flew past the base. He chuckled at the thought of the sonic boom over the base. He climbed upwards. Van Persie kicked in the afterburner and the jet soared upwards.

"Unaffiliated aircraft, this is the Azur Lane control tower, do you read me? Over,"

"Copy control, loud and clear,"

"Roger, climb to 6000 meters and remain on course," the calm voice of the air control tower was then suddenly hijacked by a rowdier person.

"Hey dude in the fighter jet, can you fly over the base again and shatter the windows of the commander's office. Fuck that guy,"

"Hahaha wilco once when I RTO," Van Persie responded.

"Good hunting, over and out," the calm voice returned.

"Wilco, Lancer 2-4 out," Van Persie said, ending the radio chatter between the two. The Viper soared above the scattered cloud cover and reached 6000 meters before leveling out. Van Persie disabled the afterburner he super cruised towards the destination. Checking the navigation, it was approximately 1500 kilometers out, and thus, it would be approximately a three-hour-long mission.

Van Persie was nearing the target area. He had a visual on the archipelago, but he needed to get closer to confirm. Van Persie slowed down the aircraft to approximately 650km/h (or kph) and flew at a lower altitude.

"Oh shit," Van Persie said quietly. There was an entire armada parked outside of the archipelago! The menacing black fleet parked idly as Van Persie flew over nearing supersonic speeds. Van Persie activated his afterburner and raced forward, hoping to return to base as soon as humanly possible. Suddenly, flak exploded in the skies as the Siren fleet awoke to his presence. The sounds of the flak guns and other anti-air installments roared around Van Persie as he pulled the nose of the Viper upwards and climbed vertically. He broke through the cloud cover and leveled the Viper before flying back home. Van Persie looked at his FCR and noticed that there were two airborne bogeys. Suddenly, the spray of bullets originating from below narrowly missed Van Persie. He quickly looked down and saw futuristic, metallic black-colored fighter jets vertically following Van Persie. The fleet had scrambled two Siren jets to combat Van Persie. The airframe resembled a blend between a fifth-generation fighter, most notably the YF-23 and the Me-262. Van Persie pulled the flight stick back and the Viper performed a cobra maneuver, falling backwards. Meanwhile, the two Siren jets soared upwards and stalled out, falling back down. Van Persie switched to the gunnery radar and estimated the enemy wingspan to be 13 meters. As the Viper was falling back down to Earth, Van Persie took aim and fired a burst of cannon rounds which directly hit a Siren jet, piercing the wings. The alarms blared inside the cockpit of the Viper, shouting "stall warning". The Viper flew directly towards the sea with the afterburner on, regaining its velocity at a lightning fast rate. The damaged jet fell out of the sky while the unharmed jet chased the Viper, occasionally firing bursts of cannon fire but it kept missing the veteran pilot and his Viper. As the Viper descended, the anti-aircraft fire intensified. The flak violently shook the Viper and rocked Van Persie. He flew at a low altitude, almost grazing the beautifully colored ocean. Van Persie's body, especially his palms rained with sweat. His heart was thumping like a piston in overdrive and his breaths were rapid and heavy. Van Persie knew how to keep calm in normal combat situations; however, this was not a normal combat situation. He was being chased by an armada. The Siren armada had scrambled more jets however, it proved futile as it could not keep up with the Viper as it nearly reached speeds of Mach 2. The Siren jets struggled to even reach Mach 1. Van Persie looked at the rear-view mirror and saw the Siren jets far in the distance, he breathed a sigh of relief. Minutes later, the enemy bandits disengaged, and Van Persie deactivated the afterburner and safely super cruised back to base.

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

The loud and authoritative steps echoed out through the cold, unforgiving, dark, metallic corridor. She took a deep breath and exhaled angerly. Even she even intimidated the walls so much, the atmosphere switched to what felt like an inferno. She pushed the door open and approached the great throne room. She stepped forward and the gaze of the room shifted to her.

"What brings you here,"

"Task Force 65 under encountered an outsider,"

"Foe or friendly?"

"The outsider engaged jets scrammed from our carriers. It appears that this outsider has aligned themselves with the weak Azur Lane,"

"Shame. Well, we need to deal with this outsider before they turn the tide of the war,"

"Yes, I believe the high council will unanimously agree with this course of action," another high-ranking voice responded.

"Observer, mobilize Hatred and Rage to deal with the outsider accordingly,"

"Understood, I will order Task Force 66 to scramble Hatred and Rage to intercept the outsider. Good day my Empress. I will report back as soon as possible regarding new developments," Observer then performed a curtesy and left the room.

"My Empress, should we bring forward the timetable?"

"No, we must remain on schedule even though the new outsider has caused a bump in the road but fret not Strength VIII, Temperance XIV, Hermit IX, we will emerge victorious after this decisive blow against the Azur Lane,"

Jack Van Persie. Callsign 'Sabre'

Unaffiliated. Lancer 2-4

3/5/1949 – 19:40 Local Time

Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

Van Persie was on approach back from his mission. The Viper maintained an altitude of almost thirteen thousand meters above sea level. Van Persie still fuel in his tank, approximately 35% left. By now the bright and vibrant Hawaiian sun had set and the moon was beginning to rise. The white rays of the moon reflected beautifully against the deep blue ocean. Van Persie had already engaged night vision and therefore he couldn't see the magical scenery It was odd since the radio and other communication links would be buzzing with chatter from the AWACS platform, other fighters within the squadron, and so-on but it was eerily quiet. The rumbling of the engine was the only constant noise emitted. Van Persie leaned back into the uncomfortable flight seat and yawned. Tears dripped down his face, tickling his cheeks but nothing could be done about it. Suddenly the missile warning alarm blared in the cockpit. Van Persie was jolted back into his senses as he immediately looked to his radar. There were two bogeys approaching, approximately 25 kilometers away. The radar also detected two fox-3s which were launched as well. Van Persie reacted and deployed countermeasures and pushed his nose down, 'going cold' and making a hard dive towards the ocean. The chaff and flares illuded one missile while the other missile impacted the ocean.

"Hey F-16! Why don't you keep still so you can DIE already!" A psychotic feminine voice emerged, followed by a horrifying shriek of laughter.

"Hey! Calm down Rage. It's probably beginner's luck. We're going to kill him anyway," a more calmed voice replied. It still seethed hatred, but it was a lot more controlled.

"Why don't I kill you instead? Come on, Hatred, let's get this guy!"

Van Persie's stomach dropped as he was fighting against people from his own universe. However, the always optimistic Van Persie thought that there might be a chance his old squad, Lancer could be reincarnated in this universe. He hovered around the ocean and then he 'went hot' and turned the Viper around to engage the two enemy bandits. The Viper achieved a lock-on on one of the bandits, 23 kilometers away and he fired a fox-3. Van Persie then turned right and committed himself in another circle. Van Persie knew about the importance of going cold and flying in circles as this would give him a chance to evade the other bandit's missile. Therefore, he would always have to fire a fox-3 to keep one of the bandits busy. The missile warning alarm blared again Van Persie reacted by turning sharp left, gliding over the ocean.

"Ok, this pilot is actually decent! The satisfaction of killing you will be even greater now! WOOOO, you got my blood pumping!" The male responded. By now, the calmness had worn off and his true colors shone. As Van Persie was turning left, he saw that one of the bandits was trying to flank him. Van Persie could actually visually see the flanking bandit, a small black dot on the horizon. He thought to himself and concluded that these two pilots that he was facing were actually trained pilots with some cohesion and skill. Van Persie acquired another lock-on and fired his second last fox-3. Van Persie then turned right again, going cold and flying straight. The altitude warning began to blare in the cockpit as the Viper was dangerously close to the ocean.

"DAMN IT! THE FUCKER GOT ME! I'M EJECTING!" The female replied.

"FUCK! I'M GOING TO GET YOU F-16 PILOT!" Another enemy fox-3 was fired which forced Van Persie to make a sharp left turn. He kept calm and collected. Breathing steadily, the Viper flew out of the circle and acquired a missile lock on the last bandit. Van Persie fired the last fox-3 but suddenly, the missile warning blared again. Van Persie worried as the missile was only 10 kilometers away. Van Persie dumped chaff and flares again before making sharp and erratic turns. He looked behind and he could actually see the enemy missile chasing his Viper. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the Viper and Van Persie was violently launched forward but his seat belt saved him. The enemy fox-3 had just rammed into the Viper, exploding and destroying the back half of the jet. Van Persie's ear was ringing from the explosion, and he felt he damaged his skull in some way. It felt surreal as suddenly everything went into slow motion. He could see each individual shard of glass from the canopy flying in all sorts of different directions, the sparks flying from the destroyed flight instruments deflecting off his helmet and flight suit, the undamaged front section of the jet slowly falling out of the sky, and he could feel the sudden warm fire that brewed behind him. Suddenly, Van Persie's senses kicked back in and now everything moved at lightning speed. Without any hesitation, Van Persie gripped the ejector seat and pulled the lever. The injured pilot, strapped to the seat launched upwards, and soon after, the parachute was deployed. Van Persie breathed a sigh of relief as he gently floated down, towards the ocean. His beloved F-16 was destroyed in his maiden voyage in this world, but he was alive.

Lt Cmdr. Mark Overmars

Azur Lane.

3/5/1949 – 20:30 Local Time

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

The young 26-year-old lieutenant commander sat in the driver's seat of the small patrol boat. Overmars was the assistant commander or the 'XO' of the Azur Lane coalition. A young and promising commander that graduated from Annapolis naval academy with honors at the onset of the war. It was Overmars that was actually the favourite to command the Azur Lane coalition but instead King won after Overmars lost a crucial naval battle which led to the defection of some of the Azur Lane members in the first place. Overmars maintained that he was indeed sidelined, and he had not received enough support from King, who was at the time, commander of a separate reserve carrier task force which consisted of some ship girls that could've easily turned the tide of the battle! Nevertheless, the skilled Overmars fought with his mass production ships against an entire Siren armada and caused enough damage for them to retreat. However, Overmars lost his entire fleet albeit his command ship. Somehow, he became the sub commander but in reality, he was relegated to the 'shit jobs' such as staffing 1-man communications outposts for weeks. During strategy meetings with the ship-girls and King, his brilliant tactical and strategical suggestions were always ignored. Overmars wasn't ready to quit just yet as he was an optimistic person.

The moon's gentle light shone and glimmered on the deep blue ocean. Overmars adjusted his simple navy uniform and brushed his short and combed black hair back. The well-built and athletic man who stood at 173 cm, rubbed his eyes. Overmars hadn't slept for 24 hours as his latest assignment was to man a communications post on a remote island, about an hour away from the main base by a small boat. It was dreadful but a necessary job. A replacement communications officer had just arrived and Overmars now departed. The small patrol boat gently and swiftly glided across the water. Overmars' vision had improved in the darkness since he could not turn on his floodlights as it could potentially make him a target. He suddenly stopped the boat and saw what looked like a person, floating lifelessly in the water. Overmars carefully accelerated and discovered it as a person! The person was wearing this strange olive-green uniform and a weird and futuristic helmet. Overmars pulled the person aboard his patrol boat and quickly pulled the helmet off. It revealed a man. His right cheek was smeared with dried blood and there was a small gash on his cheek and his forehead.

"Can you hear me?" Overmars asked while taking a pulse.

"Yes I can. I was asleep," the man suddenly opened his eyes and rose upwards.

"You all right?" Overmars asked.

"Yeah, I'm ok,"

"Hell happened to you?"

"I was engaged in a dog fight and the last enemy got a lucky shot off and destroyed my plane. I ejected about an hour ago. I think,"

"Oh, so you're that pilot I heard about back at base,"

"Oh, so your part of the Azur Lane?"

"Yeah, Mark Overmars, I'm the XO of the base but in reality, I am the chore boy of that retard King,"

"Jack Van Persie. Yeah, fuck that guy," Van Persie replied. The men shook each other's hands and they headed back to base.

Overmars and Van Persie became fast friends over the hour-long return trip. Overmars parked the patrol boat to the small docks while Van Persie tied the ropes to the wooden pillars. Both men walked forward and expected to walk into a dormant military base with most of the staff either on night watch or sleeping. However, upon returning, they discovered the base was under a massive overhaul that was transforming it into a giant party. Overmars explained that this was the start of the Summer Festival, which lasted the entire summer period. It was initially created to boost morale among the military during the first few dark years of the war, but it soon mothballed into exploiting and profiting off Azur Lane's ship girls. It was a massive sports tournament during the day and a gigantic party during the evening. However, it was also the largest generator of revenue for the military as people flocked to each event to see the mystical and legendary ship-girls in person. He could see the nearby giant sports stadium placed in the open field. Van Persie was shocked as it was almost complete it only an afternoon.

"Holy shit, how is it almost finished?"

"These little creatures called Manjus. They are miracle workers, able to build anything in a short time," Overmars replied. Maybe there was actually a way to construct a jet, Van Persie thought.

"So, why do people come here?" Van Persie asked obliviously.

"You're serious right? Oh, wait you're new here. You'll see in a few days," Overmars vaguely said.

"On average, how many people attend the Summer Festival?"

"In-person, about a hundred thousand people and it's broadcasted internationally so a shit ton would be your answer,"

"Son of a bitch,"

The door of the commander's office was kicked open urgently by Van Persie. They entered and found the commander's office to be in a state of complete destruction. Champagne bottles everywhere, items of clothing scattered on the couch, and cigarettes thrown across the place. However, it was unoccupied. Overmars sighed loudly.

"He's having another fucking orgy,"

"Does this happen often?"

"Too damn much,"

"Anyways, we need to marshal as many ship-girls as possible. And I need to get a plane,"

"I can call in a few favours to get you a plane and there are still some ships loyal to me. Maybe three but that's the best I can do,"

"I'll head over to Vestal's to get my head checked out,"

"Yeah, good choice there, I'll meet you soon," Overmars said. Van Persie nodded and closed the door. Overmars rushed over to his desk and dialed a phone number.

"Commander King?" A confused voice replied.

"Hey Robert, It's Mark, I'm requesting favours,"

"Oh, Mark! Since when are you requesting favours?"

"Long story but I need you to direct one of those new F-86 Sabres or F9F Panthers here for a pilot, it's urgent,"

"I can do one better Mark. What's the second favour?"

"Inform your buddies in the Supreme War Council that there is a large Siren armada ready to attack the Azur Lane base in 20 hours,"

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah, that was my first reaction as well. Listen, I'm trying to marshal as many ship girls that are still loyal to me here, but I need as support from High-Command since King is still in charge,"

"Don't worry, I'll send over everything I can mobilize. What's the next favour?"

"Why don't you stop at the Dragon Empery restaurant in town tomorrow?"

Overmars quietly walked around the Royal Navy quarters. Flashlight in hand, he navigated through the giant complex trying to be as stealthily as possible. He approached the door and knocked a few times. It suddenly opened and he was met by a half-asleep Belfast in a white nightgown.

"Absolutely not" and the door slammed shut.

"Look Belfast, I know everyone in this base hates me. I've been to everyone that might give me a second chance. You're my last chance, just please hear me out," Overmars begged. Instead of the cliché moment of the door opening, it remained closed. In a fit of rage, Overmars punched the wall and stormed off. He slowly walked back and saw Van Persie holding an ice pack to his head.

"Any luck?"

"Everyone still hates me,"

"Damn, and I thought I had it bad, if I can ask, why is that?"

"Long story short, I punched King in the face. The ship-girls still hates me for assaulting their prince,"

"Ok wow, I did not expect that. Did he NJP your ass?"

"He didn't even know what the procedure to NJP someone is. Fucking retard. Doesn't matter anyway because there's nothing we can do,"

"I tried to find a wisdom cube but everything that is important in the restricted area is gone,"

"They move everything to a classified location during the Summer Festival. Well maybe, there is something we can do. I need call someone. Jack, head to the main gate to check on the rival of a plane I ordered,"

"Righto,"

Overmars broke into the commander's office again and dialed in another number.

"Da, Comrade Fedorov on the line,"

"Hey comrade, it's Overmars,"

"Ah, it's the crazy American. How are you Overmars?"

"There is a massive Siren fleet about to attack us in 20 hours. Do you have any spare ship-girls that you can lend?"

"Actually, my government just pledged alliance to the Azur Lane coalition and my ship-girls are on the way, ETA 48 hours,"

"Ok! I just need to stall the Siren fleet and buy enough time for your ships to arrive,"

"Is that idiot King involved?"

"No, that's why I'm asking you for help you moron," Overmars joked. Fedorov snicked and Overmars grew a small smile.

"Good luck comrade,"

HMS Belfast

Azur Lane

3/5/1949 – 23:00 Local Time

Azur Lane Base

Wearing her maid uniform, she strolled around the Azur Lane base after experiencing trouble with sleeping. She was still perplexed on why Overmars asked for help. Belfast and most other ships on the base still hated him with a passion because they adored King. Breathing in the fresh air, she sat on a bench in the main courtyard. She could see other ship-girls enjoying themselves and each other's company.

"Evening Belfast," A voice called out. It was Enterprise, arguably her best friend. Enterprise sat down next to her, hold a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Good evening Ms. Enterprise. Isn't it a bit too late for coffee,"

"I have this weird feeling something is going to happen,"

"Actually, something bizarre did occur. Overmars was at my door thirty minutes ago, asking for help,"

"Overmars?" Enterprise said in a very surprised tone. The name Overmars was hardly mentioned in the day-to-day vocabulary of the ship-girls. "That's strange."

"Best not to dwell on it," Belfast said, and she looked up into the night sky. She admired the glint of the stars overhead. It seemed like beacons of hope in the vast ocean of despair. Suddenly, loud rumbling noises were heard overhead and scores of flashing red and green lights were seen. A wave of F-86 Sabres screamed overhead, followed by another wave. All of a sudden, the Azur Lane emergency floodlights activated, and it shone upwards. Belfast and Enterprises' mouths dropped as they saw the sky dotted with Eagle Union planes. The brand-new F-86 Sabres, F9F Panthers, and P-80 Shooting Stars soared through the skies while the venerable P-51 Mustangs, F6F Hellcats, and F4U Corsairs escorted hundreds of A-26 Invaders and PB4Y-2 Privateers.

"Something is definitely happening,"

"I think Overmars was correct, and he desperately needed my services,"