Lane was just about to enter the briefing room when he heard voices through the open door. He peered inside.

"It would be idiotic for the Germans to attack now," argued Phillips. "They've been hit as hard by the Sirens as anyone. And the French-"

"The French are putting entirely too much faith in their fortifications," said Churchill. He puffed on his cigar thoughtfully. "And there has indubitably been a build-up in the German forces on the French border."

"Posturing, Mr. Churchill."

"Posturing for what, Admiral? If he thinks he'll get some more assistance from the French through mere intimidation Herr Hitler is sorely mistaken."

Phillips's face grew red. "Sir-"

With courage greater than he thought he had, Lane bravely entered the room. He saluted sharply."Mr. Churchill. Admiral."

They both fixed him with glares. "You're late,"snapped Phillips.

"Had a logistical issue to sort out," he replied blandly. He decided not to expand on what the "logistical issue" had been- a squabble over the sugar ration because several of the girls had wanted to make cakes. "All sorted now, sir." His gaze was drawn to the map laid out on a table in the center of the room.

For once, it was not a map of the sea. Instead, it showed the borders between Germany and her western neighbors. Neatly arranged counters indicated tanks, aircraft, artillery, all swamped by the sheer number of infantry. "Is that accurate?"

"Depends on whom you ask," said Phillips sourly. "Churchill certainly believes it is."

"If it is..."

"Then it means this war is going to get a whole lot hotter. Which is where you come in, Lane."

"Sir?"

"The Germans have been pushing for a joint operation to clear the Denmark straits. We want you to lead that operation. Well, technically their commander is a Commodore, so he will lead it. You'll be in charge of our contingent," said Churchill.

Lane looked at him, then turned his gaze pointedly at the map. The politician sighed. "I know, I know. Half of your job will be to stop any attempt at treachery by the Germans. For what it's worth, intelligence suggests that Commodore Falke is an honorable man, very unlikely to be chosen to start a surprise attack on one's allies."

"I could see that work both ways, sir," said Lane.

"As could I," admitted Churchill. "But clearing those straits helps both of us. And it is a fact that the Germans see us as a secondary enemy, at worst." His mouth twisted. "Hitler thinks of us as racial allies. You should hear some of his speeches on the subject of race, by the way. They are quite- florid."

Lane nodded thoughtfully. "This will be the first full-scale operation using the ship-girls, you know. Save for the Americans."

"What about the convoy action?"

"It was limited in scope and objectives. The goals were to provide combat experience and get at least one convoy across safely," explained Phillips.

"At least one?" asked Churchill.

"We're going to run convoys with Q-ships across periodically, though this time instead of a disguised armed merchantman, they will contain a certain number of ship-girls. It will be impossible for the Sirens to know how many, so they should be less likely to attack."

"Very cunning, Admiral- I approve," said Churchill. "So this operation- it's called PURPLE DINAR, by the way, damned if I know why-"

"Random, sir. We're avoiding any hints of what the operations are about since we know the Sirens can listen into our communications," Phillips put in.

"Just so," said Churchill, slightly annoyed at the interruption. "At any rate, it will be our first full-scale attack. Can we win it?"

There was a long pause as Lane and Phillips looked at one another. "Yes?" ventured Lane after a moment.

"Or possibly no," said Phillips immediately afterward.

"So the average of our two answers is 'maybe'," said Churchill, frowning. He paced quietly back and forth before turning back to Lane. "I want the Denmark Straits cleared. I want a clear path to Norway." Norway was one of the few areas the Sirens had established land occupation, apparently to take advantage of the long coastline- or to deny that advantage to the alliance. "I want a clear passage to Germany." His eyes met Lane's. "Can you do it?"

Unbidden, an old quotation came to his mind. "He either fears his fate too much, or his deserts are small, who dares not put it to the touch, to win or lose it all."

"Montrose's Toast," murmured Phillips. "You do know what happened to him."

Lane shrugged. "What happens to all of us, sir." Only the slightest Irish lilt to his words gave away the stress he was under.

It was the turn of Churchill and Phillips to exchange glances. "Very well, Captain," said Churchill. "Begin preparations for PURPLE DINAR immediately."

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The "command staff"of the ship-girls listened quietly as he outlined the plan.

The pervasive oily smell of the warehouse was almost a distant memory, so diligently had the Maid Corps cleaned and re-cleaned the place, though admittedly the astringent odor of disinfectant now filled the air. The plywood walls had been polished so that on casual inspection they could pass as true paneling. Carpet overlay the concrete floor, and the briefing area was festooned with maps, technical plans, and dozens of notes pinned on bulletin boards. He had to admit that the place had come far in a short time.

He glanced at Javelin, in one corner with headphones on her ears, translating the dots and dashes of Morse code as she communicated with one of their squadrons, then back at the ship-girls, waiting for their reaction.

"To be clear, Commander, the plan is to fight our way through to the Germans- the Germans- link up with them near Norway- Siren-occupied Norway- and then sweep the entire Straits- the entire Straits- of the Sirens- the Sirens." Hood sounded, to put it with British understatement, skeptical.

He shrugged. "Could be worse."

"How?" she asked sweetly.

"Could be raining."

Javelin turned from her task. "Actually, Commander, weather forecasts indicate heavy squalls across that whole area. High winds and seas, with the possibility of-"

"Thank you, Javelin, that will be all."

"Actually, there's more-"

"Is there some definition of 'all' I'm not fully aware of?"

He looked at Elizabeth, who was surveying the map thoughtfully. He was already prepared for resistance, having rehearsed his responses to her on the way over. It would be tricky, he knew- he believed the ship-girls- with the possible exception of Warspite- would follow his orders, but without Elizabeth supporting him-

She looked up and met his eyes. "With that weather report we can't expect much support from our carriers."

"We're primarily a surface to surface fleet anyway," said Lane with a shrug. "Besides, bad weather will affect the Sirens at least as much as it does us."

"We'll be hard-pressed to catch any Siren forces with just surface ships," she said slowly.

"We use our destroyers as scouts and strike forces. Anything they can't handle they guide the fleet in. And the new sonar systems can at least get some return off of large fleets with large vessels." The Sirens were famously invisible to radar, but much less so against sonar. Passive radar in particular could pick up large fleets very well simply from the thrum of their engines or even the passing of water over their hull.

"What about the Germans?" asked Belfast. "Can we trust the Ironbloods?"

The name given to the German ship-girls still made Lane shudder slightly. It was not a name to inspire confidence in one's allies. "If they betray us, they will be outnumbered and outclassed. As long as we keep an eye on them I don't see a surprise attack working."

"But Falke will be in command-"

"Nominally, yes. But nobody would court-martial me for following my own instincts if it comes to that," he said, hoping fervently that were true.

Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table, eyes drifting upward as she thought. "Very well," she said at last. "Let us begin more detailed planning."

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"The Fuhrer expects you to remain on your guard against any English treachery," said the young SS man who stood respectfully in front of Falke's desk.

Falke looked at him contemptuously, then back the naval rating who was the real messenger. "Do you know the contents of this message?"

"No, sir."

He turned his gaze to the SS man. "And you?"

"No, sir," he replied. He was a poor liar. "You are to open it in our presence, as per the Fuhrer's command."

"What about the Kaiser's command?" muttered Falke. Hitler had been gaining steadily in popularity. His measures- primarily vastly increased land armament and public works spending- to reduce poverty were going very well, particularly after he had bullied Poland into substantial trade concessions. Nevertheless, his oath was to the Kaiser and the Reich, not the frighteningly intense man he had met. He tore open the envelope and began to read.

Once he had finished, he looked up. "Tell the chancellor that I have read and understood the plan. I will have one or two objections-"

"The last paragraph specifically states that the Fuhrer's command is to be followed in its entirety. No objections are to be entertained."

Both of the other two men looked at him. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Or so I heard."

"Get out of my office." He turned to the rating. "You are dismissed."

Both saluted- the Nazi with the outstretched arm of his party,-before leaving.

"Scherer!" shouted Falke. He heard the measured tread of the Feldwebel make its way down the office hall and stop just outside the door. "No need to knock," he said, his eyes still on his orders. "Just come in."

Scherer came inside, closing the door behind him at a gesture from Falke. "Herr Kommodor?"

"Order the Schiffmadchen to meet in the south briefing room." A thought occurred to him. "How is Deutschland doing?"

"She has been most diligent in attending exercises, sir. She still complains a lot."

"And Hipper?" Hipper was less rebellious than Deutschland had been, but still something of a problem child.

"Eugen keeps her in line," said Scherer.

"How does she do that?" asked Falke, sincerely curious.

"She is sarcastic at her."

"Ah. Have Bismarck and Tirpitz meet me in my office immediately."

"Jawohl, Kommodor," said Scherer. He saluted and left.

It wasn't too long before he returned, the two battleships in tow (so to speak). They saluted and stood at attention. "Bismarck and Tirpitz reporting," said Bismarck.

"Be seated." As they sat down, he stood up, clasping his hands behind his back. Scherer stood a respectful distance behind the two battleships. "How much do you trust the English?"

"I would say as far as I could throw one, but I could throw one quite far," said Bismarck. "So let us just say, not very much."
"The same is true for me." He paced behind the desk, before grabbing the piece of paper containing his orders and thrusting it at Bismarck. "Read this."

She read the document quickly, turning it over to Tirpitz at a nod from Falke. "Kommandant, this is a very serious operation. We will be at a marked disadvantage against the English if they chose to betray us."

"So noted. These are, however, direct orders and I would prefer not to spend my life in one of those new concentration camps that have been springing up all over the place." He sat down again. "So what are our options?"

"The English will be splitting their forces into multiple groups," said Tirpitz. "If we are to clear the Straits, it will be necessary to have strong scout groups to vector in the main battleship units."

"Weather is supposed to be bad," noted Bismarck. "So that will negate their advantage in the air."

"All good news if we were to betray the English," said Falke. "Less so if we actually are trying to fight the Sirens. And for the record, I would much prefer to kill Sirens than fellow humans."
"As would I," said Bismarck. "As all of us would. The Sirens are why we exist, why we were created."

Falke nodded. "Precisely. So let us work off the assumption that will be our main objective. How do we fight?"

Bismarck thought, but Tirpitz narrowed her eyes at him. "You already know. You're testing us."

"If something were to happen to me," said Falke quietly, "I don't want some Nazi party hack coming in and taking things over. I expect you girls to think and act for yourselves."

"Decisive battle," said Bismarck quietly. Falke gave her a sharp look.

"Explain."
"We lack the necessary numbers to establish full control of the sea if the enemy chooses to stay in port- we can't afford to blockade them as the English are prone to do. We must destroy their main fleet in one, decisive blow."
"Very good," said Falke approvingly. "So how do we do that?"

"Lure them out?" suggested Tirpitz.

"They'll suspect something. We have to give them more than just a tidbit."

There was a long pause, then Bismarck looked up, her eyes widening. "We have to give them-" she hesitated.

"Give them what, Fraulein Bismarck?"

"The fleet. All of it." She took a deep breath. "Holding nothing back."

"Precisely. No room for strategic finesse. Simply give them as big a target as we can, then turn and destroy them." He sighed. "Though even with the weather being bad, even one aircraft carrier would have been useful."

Scherer cleared his throat. "Actually, Kommodor..."

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"But we haven't ever built an aircraft carrier," said Falke as he, Scherer, Bismarck, and Tirpitz practically trotted down the corridor.

"Yes, sir, but-" He shrugged. "There she was."
They swiftly made their way to the massive research bunker where the Mental Cubes were turned into ships. "You realize what this means?"
"Even ships that don't- have never existed may be possible," said Bismarck. "This is-"

"Insane," finished Falke. "But what isn't these days?"

They flashed their identification and made it through the first door of the research complex. Three more times their identification cards were examined, with increasing care. Finally, they burst into the white room where the new ships were taken and rested before being released.

A white-coated scientist looked up in surprise at their rushed entry. "Kommodor? I did not expect you today."

"Oh, really? Even after you awakened a fleet carrier?"
"Oh." The scientist scratched his head. "Yes, perhaps I should have anticipated that."

"Where is she?"

"Third bed on the left through that door but- hey, don't go in there-"

Falke charged through the door.

She was beautiful, though all the Schiffmadchen were. It was believed that they were reflections of their crew's thoughts and dreams of their ships, and few sailors- at least, those that sailed aboard warships- thought their ships other than beautiful. Long pale hair cascaded across her shoulders. She had a generous bosom, which Falke could see easily because she was entirely naked.

Blushing furiously, he spun around. He put out a hand and forced the slower-moving Scherer to do the same.

Bismarck and Tirpitz showed no sign of caring about the other ship's nudity. They gawped openly at her.

Graf Zeppelin gave a quiet laugh at the minor drama in front of her. "Well, Kommandant, I had not expected our first meeting to go in such a manner."

Falke glared at the scientist. "Why didn't you tell me she was...deshabille?

"I tried, Kommandant,"

"Do not worry," said an amused voice behind him. Their was a shuffling sound behind him, which he fervently hoped was her getting dressed. "This embarrassment, like all things, will pass away. You may turn around."
He turned to see her adjusting her cap in the mirror. She looked him in the eyes.

"I shall see to it."

A/N: So it seems a substantial amount of my word count is destined to be apologies for not sticking to schedule. So I apologize for the apologies. This has been a rough year- I was in the hospital again for a couple of days- and the holidays are a busy time for me.

Enough excuses, back to the story. In this timeline, Graf Zeppelin did not exist. As you may expect, this sets the stage for Friedrich der Grosse and other fictional ships, though it will be a fair amount of time until we see them.

Apropos of nothing, can someone explain what the Ashes are to me? I'm playing the Siren Campaign and am well and truly lost regarding the plot.