Deep within a large fjord, not far northeast of Trondheim, a mountain of metal floated a half meter above the water.
It was vaguely pyramidal in shape, though more rounded on the corners. Dozens of turrets and casemates ringed the structure, each housing at least one gun. Ports opened and closed almost continually, either disgorging or devouring Siren jet fighters and bombers. The whole massive base was shrouded with a faint purple mist which seemed to glow from the inside.
Purifier had a wide grin on her face as she entered the main bridge. Tester and Observer floated within, eyes closed as they communicated with Siren forces spread across the world. As Purifier entered, they both simultaneously opened their eyes when they felt her presence.
"You seem to be in a cheerful mood," remarked Tester. "I take it the Ironbloods and Royal Navy have rendezvoused as we expected?"
Purifier nodded, eyes literally glowing with anticipation. "Is it time to attack?" she asked eagerly.
Observer looked to Tester, who considered the question for a moment. "Yes, I think so," she said thoughtfully. "I have assembled a force that should challenge them effectively."
"Should we enshroud the region?" asked Observer. "Split them up?"
"No. The opportunity to experiment on individuals will come later. For now, we shall see how they cooperate. We'll allow them to maintain their communications and formation for now."
"I still get to attack, don't I?" asked Purifier plaintively.
"Yes," said Tester. "We will gather data on their ability to operate in a full fleet battle. We should have enough forces to defeat them, though not destroy them entirely. Then, when the survivors scatter, we will engage each group separately."
"If we do that, we will almost certainly cripple the Europeans entirely," pointed out Observer.
Tester shrugged. "I am not convinced that this time-line has much more data to offer. The humans seem to have given up. Perhaps we initiated our operations too soon."
She looked at Purifier. "Spare no effort. If they fight hard enough, it should be possible for them to survive."
"And if they don't?" asked Purifier.
"Then destroy them."
The weather had finally cleared for the most part, though the sea was still choppy. Lane had at least gotten over his sea-sickness, thankfully. Not only was it miserable, but it was a bit embarrassing.
He was pacing the deck, hands in his pockets- unprofessional, but then the ship-girls were hardly the model of naval etiquette. Behind him, Amazon followed, splitting her attention between him and the sea. She was currently acting as his runner, Javelin having been dispatched as a picket vessel several hours ago.
He turned to the destroyer. "Anything?" Before she could answer, he held up his hand. "Sorry, I know you would have told me." He resumed his pacing. "The waiting is always the hardest part, isn't it?"
The short blonde considered the question. "I think getting hit with a fourteen inch shell might be harder."
Lane raised an eyebrow at her. As far as he could tell, she was completely serious. "Point taken."
He looked back at his fleet. He was on the Queen Elizabeth, the only ship that was currently deployed. The other girls were skating across the ocean in formation, rigging out and eyes scanning the water. A plane was "landing" on Illustrious, who was well to the rear of the formation. He didn't quite understand how the aircraft carriers worked- sometimes they used their planes almost like missiles, other times the aircraft returned. He made a mental note to quiz Illustrious about it later.
A movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye.
"Commander?" Prince of Wales was hurrying across the deck.
Lane gave her his full attention. "What is it?"
"Beg to report that Cygnet is reporting a probable Siren sighting, bearing ten degrees. The flag signals are being relayed through Comet and Crescent, so there's some delay."
"I expected one of the scout planes to find them first," muttered Lane, stroking his chin."Very well. What kind of ship?"
"Destroyer, sir. Probably a picket."
"I see. Signal Cygnet to keep her distance and-"
All three of them snapped their heads around at the unmistakable sound of anti-aircraft fire. To starboard, they saw Belfast and Edinburgh firing fiercely into the sky, filling it with black clouds of flak. Lane could now see the Siren aircraft, flying in neat formations toward the main fleet.
"Incoming!" shouted Wales as the Queen Elizabeth's guns joined the fire. She started to move to the railing, then hesitated and looked back at Lane.
"Go," he said. "I'm headed to the bridge."
She saluted briskly and jumped off the ship, her rigging deploying before she even hit the water. Soon, her own guns sounded as she entered the fray.
"Amazon, signal the fleet that we've been spotted. Radio silence is no longer in effect." Lane ducked through a hatchway, moving quickly but calmly. "I want positions on all ships as soon as possible."
When he reached the bridge, he found Queen Elizabeth already studying the map. Part of him noted that her guns were now firing as well. "Status?"
"First wave was shot down, Commander. We are detecting several additional waves, all coming from the east," she said distractedly. "Land based aircraft, I expect."
"Probably, but that means the Siren fleet won't be far behind. Have we notified Falke yet?"
"Yes, but he's not acknowledging. I assume he's hoping his own fleet hasn't been noticed yet."
The pounding sounds of guns continued.
I was wrong, thought Lane grimly. Waiting isn't the hardest part. It's just that you forget how bad it is when you find yourself in the thick of it.
"British fleet has made contact with the Sirens," reported Bismarck. "Air units only at this time, except for a destroyer sighting to the north of them.
"Understood," said Falke. "Maintain radio silence." He glanced at Bismarck with a quick grin. "Though I'm sure you don't need to be told."
By now, Karslruhe and the cruisers landing at Oslo should be close to reaching their targets. He fervently hoped that his faith in them had not been misplaced. He was less worried about Karlsruhe than the others. Even without her sisters to guide her, she would probably be all right on her own. The cruisers though...
He had confidence in Graf Spee. She was level-headed and reliable. Prinz Eugen was a bit more an enigma, though he suspected that she had a strong sense of duty underneath he studied indifference.
Deutschland, on the other hand, was unpredictable.
Bismarck's assessment of her character had mostly proven correct. She was not exactly punctilious about her duties, but she showed up more or less on time to scheduled exercises and hadn't shown any signs of insubordination. Instead, she seemed to avoid Falke, on occasion practically fleeing if she saw him approaching. When she had been forced to deal with him, she was distant but notably nervous. There was still an arrogance there, but Falke could clearly see it for the facade it was.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now was not the time to be second-guessing himself.
"About now," murmured Bismarck.
He looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"
She looked startled. "Sorry, Kommandant, just thinking out loud. The first landings should be occurring about now."
"Ah. Yes, I was thinking the same thing."
"Fraulein?"
Karlsruhe frowned at the interruption to her thoughts. Though, to be fair, she had mostly been thinking the same thing she had been throughout the voyage- wishing she didn't have to have her ship deployed. She didn't mind sailing her ship in its physical form, exactly- but she preferred the freedom she had when she was skimming across the ocean with nothing between her and the water except her shoes. She looked at the man who had approached her.
He was young and lanky, looking far younger than any man who had reached the rank of Hauptmann had any right to be. She dredged up his name from her memories. "Hauptmann, er, Heinz?"
He sighed. "Metzger, fraulein."
Oh, right. She had a vague notion that he had told her his name several times over the course of the voyage. She should have at least been getting close to it by now. "Sorry. What is it?"
"Well, the men were wondering about something..."
"Yes?"
He gestured toward her bow. "It's just...don't you think you should slow down?"
She blinked and looked forward.
The Kristiansand port was approaching with remarkable speed- she estimated it to be almost thirty knots. The smaller boats- several E-boats and a tender- that had accompanied them were already slowing, preparing to land their troops.
"Oops."
Desperately she backed her engines, urging herself to come to a stop.
"This wouldn't have happened if I only had my rigging deployed," she said irritably. "Hautpmann Klein, you should prepare your men for a, uh, rough landing."
"Metzger, frau- wait, what?"
"I just received a message from Karlsruhe," said Koln.
Koenigsburg was watching the cliffs crawl past their small flotilla. "Oh?"
"She's successfully landed at Kristiansand."
"That's good."
"Not exactly. Apparently she grounded herself."
Koenigsburg turned to her sister. "She what?"
Koln shrugged. "She said it wasn't her fault."
"Whose was it, then?"
"She says she's pretty sure the coastline is about a quarter mile further west than she was told."
Koenigsburg rolled her eyes. "Is she okay?"
"All the troops landed safely and she was able to get out once she went back to her rigging only. So it should be all right."
They were on Koln's ship, with Koenigsburg sailing sedately to their port. The deck was full of nervous soldiers, checking and rechecking their equipment. The NCO's were watching them with eagle eyes, especially since they'd already had an accidental discharge. Koln was unsure who had been angrier, herself or the Unteroffizier who had reamed out the poor soldier. Since she had been seriously considering the practicalities of the old Royal Navy tradition of keel-hauling before Koenigsburg had pulled her away, she suspected she'd had the edge.
They were well out of the North Sea proper, sailing north through the winding channel to Bergen. The sea was calmer, less choppy, a deep dark blue contrasting only slightly with the dull gray sky. Greenery crawled up to the very edge of the cliffs, hanging back like a swimmer reluctant to enter the cold water. Koenigsburg raised her binoculars and scanned the cliffs again.. They were a bit of an affectation- she could see as well without them. She paused, then looked closer. "Gun emplacement," she said after a moment.
Koenigsburg was already training her guns. "You're sure?"
She nodded and pointed. "Twenty five degrees, about three quarters of the way up that cliff."
Her sister peered at the cliff, then smiled. "Got it. Shot out."
The guns boomed, startling a number of soldiers. Even above the boom of the cannons, Koln had heard the tell-tale crack of another accidental gunshot. She winced.
Koenigsburg's face had darkened at the sound of the shot. "They had better not have damaged my deck," she began.
"Hit!" said Koln hastily. "Could use another salvo."
Frowning at Koln- she clearly guessed that she was being deliberately distracted- she fired again. Parts of the cliff rained into the sea as the rounds struck, briefly obscuring the Siren emplacement. When it cleared, the rocks still splashing into the sea, a hole ripped into the side of the cliff was visible. Smoke poured from it as whatever Siren technology had been there burned fiercely.
The Unteroffizier approached them. "Fraulein Koenigsburg?"
She glared at him. "One of your men-"
"I apologize, fraulein," said the soldier. "I will discipline him. But I wondered if you would be so kind as to warn us before you fired next time."
She raised an eyebrow at him, then at the soldiers, some of whom looked fairly disoriented. Some of them had been a bit close to the guns...
"For example, when you take out that gun emplacement," said the Unteroffizier.
"What?"
One of the E-boats they were escorting exploded.
"The first one was a distraction," said the Unteroffizier patiently. "The one on that ridge is the real one."
Koln was already training her ship's guns on the target.
In 1863, the Confederated States of America decisively won the Battle of Gettysburg.
The capital of the North had been sacked, the flames of the fallen city lighting up the night. The British had soon after entered the war, leading to a chain of events that culminated in the United States splitting into two separate nations.
In 1884, the world ended.
At least, that was how Samuel Knowles remembered it.
In 1884, the Sirens had appeared in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, annihilating the small Confederate fleet almost immediately. The larger fleets of the United States and Britain had soon followed; not long after, the rest of the world was shorn of their sea-going capabilities as well. Attempts to capture or understand Siren technology failed, even when a number of strange blue cubes washed ashore in several places.
Knowles had been part of a garrison force on a small island in the Florida Keys when the Sirens appeared. Attempts to take them off had failed, and he and his fellow soldiers had been running out of food and water when the golden-eyed humanoid figure appeared to them.
The offer was simple. If they remained, they would either starve or die of thirst. If they went with her-
Almost everyone had gone.
They walked through a strange purple hole in space, crackling with unknown energies. Emerging, the Confederates found themselves in an icy wilderness, with the only shelter being a squat structure with a flattened roof made entirely of an unknown metal.
They had been marched inside, given food and drink. They had been issued new weapons, strange ones that fired what the Sirens called "plasma", heavier ones that spat bars of light that caused the target to explode when hit. These were called "rail-guns" and were intended to be used on armored targets.
The only armored targets Knowles had been aware of were the knights of old and the new iron-sided ships such as Monitor and Virginia, the two giants that had fought it out to a draw in the Battle of Hampton Roads. He doubted he would fight either, of course.
He had been wrong. It was his rail-gun that ended the life of a young ship-girl named Monitor in a place he could barely remember, let alone describe. Yet another world that was dead and gone.
Knowles could, even after decades, barely understand the world- or worlds- in which he lived. Periodically, they would be marched through another portal, set to fight under a sky both familiar and alien. A few of them would die, who were sometimes replaced with others from the world, before they marched again.
They were the lost, the damned, the adrift. Adrift on a sea of time.
Even their masters, the Sirens, called them that, not quite masking their contempt. The Adrift.
In a place called Kristiansand, in Norway- he had at least heard the name before, not like the last world, where everything was named in Latin and the Roman eagle had spread its wings over half the planet- he was smoking a cigar and teaching two new recruits how to play poker.
Which was difficult when he didn't speak Latin.
"Full house," said Marcus triumphantly, spreading his cards. He managed to say the term clearly, though with a heavy accent.
Knowles sighed. "No, that's a flush." He looked at his cards. "Still beats me though."
Before Marcus could rake in the stakes- some odd tasting candies from the last world they had plundered- a mechanical whining noise from behind him caused him to freeze. Knowles looked up into the black eyes of an Overseer.
The Overseers looked almost exactly like a normal Siren- in that any of those things could be called normal- save for the blackened, burned-out eyes. They were rumored to be Sirens who had failed, malfunctioned, or something, and then had their consciousness burned out of them. While not as awesomely powerful as a normal Siren, they could operate on land and were easily as durable and deadly as a tank.
Knowles had fought tanks a number of times now. The first one had been a nasty shock to him.
The Overseer stopped, eyes gazing blankly at Knowles. "Assemble disparate elements into cohesive variable. Oppositional variables detected in sector one-zero-zero, subsector alpha one-zero-one."
The former Confederate soldier jumped up. He mentally translated the Overseer's weird speech. Assemble the troops. Enemy forces located in sector 4, A-5.
"How many?" he asked as he started toward the barracks.
"Estimated 11111010."
That one took a moment. He was no great hand with math and even after all these years, had trouble thinking in binary. "Two hundred fifty?" That would be a problem- he had fewer than one hundred troops on hand. "Reinforcements?"
"Unknown. Assemble disparate elements into cohesive vari-"
"I'm on it, dammit." The Overseers were predictable. You could curse them, spit on them, even kick them- but if you disobeyed, they'd kill you in a heartbeat.
"Marcus, get your squad ready. Um, para proelium."
Either his grammar or pronunciation seemed to be wrong, because Marcus gave him a wry look before standing and saluting. He seemed to understand, though, picking up his plasma rifle and hurrying away.
Two hundred and fifty. Well, we have three Overseers at least. Should even the odds a bit.
"Landau, take the gun over to that building and cover the square. Amsel, you have the left flank. Once we're in position, we'll move out."
Hauptman Metzger was cautiously optimistic. Optimistic because, thus far, they had seen nothing of any Sirens. A few German-speaking civilians had told them the Sirens never came to their village, apparently having better things to do. Sure, there were rumors of them- supposedly they were served by a strange army of many disparate races- but so far, only the comparatively few Norwegian quislings had ever come by.
The "cautious" part was because he was fighting Sirens. If anyone knew their full capabilities, it hadn't been relayed to him.
His troops were already fanning out, some of them waving off Norwegian civilians who tried to approach. Most seemed happy, though all of them kept glancing up at the sky. Metzger did the same- it was a tic most Germans had developed, having been constantly raided by Siren air forces. So far, the skies had remained clear.
"Hauptman, scouts are reporting a column of apparent enemy troops moving toward the town," said his Soldat assigned to communications. The young man cocked his head, listening through his headset. "Company strength, on trucks, enroute to the town center, approximately five kilometers away. Estimated time of arrival five minutes." He hesitated. "Sir, there are three possible Sirens with them."
Metzger's blood ran cold. "Any idea what type?" he asked, keeping his voice calm through sheer effort of will.
The Soldat shook his head. "They say they don't look anything like what we've been told about before. They're not flying or hovering, though- they're running."
"Running?" Metzger thought back to every briefing, every newscast, even every rumor he had ever heard about the Sirens. No one had ever mentioned them running. "They're keeping up with the trucks?"
"Yes, sir."
He considered this and beckoned Feldwebel Landau over. Landau jogged over, moving with grace that didn't seem to fit his massive frame. "Hauptman?"
"Our visitors are arriving," said Metzger. "See that we give them a warm reception, ja?"
Landau smiled wolfishly. "Jawohl, Hauptman."
"Bit of a warm reception, isn't it?" observed Lane to no one in particular.
The anti-aircraft guns had been firing almost continuously, and the constant pom-pom-pom was starting to give him a headache. He was currently wearing the radio headset aboard the Queen Elizabeth, partly to remain in contact with the fleet directly and partly to deaden the incessant racket.
So far, there had been only a few near-misses. The Siren attacks were coming in penny packets, a squadron or so at a time. It wasn't unusual for the Sirens, which was one of the things so unusual about them. "If they can coordinate forces across the world," he muttered to himself, "why can't they coordinate a simple strike force?"
Elizabeth, standing nearby, apparently heard him. "It's all of a piece with them, isn't it? Why don't they just destroy us if that's their goal?"
He glanced at her. Ever since they had gone to sea, and especially now that they were in battle, her overbearing attitude had mellowed dramatically. She had been cool and professional for the most part, treating him more as an equal despite the occasional reference to him as her "servant". It made sense, he reflected. They were warships, and this was exactly what they were designed to do. They would naturally be more at ease, in a way, in their natural element.
"Contact," said a voice in his ear. "Queen Elizabeth, this is Ark Royal. I have detected a large Siren surface fleet, bearing zero one zero your position, approximately fifty miles. Constant bearing, decreasing distance."
"Coming right at us," said Elizabeth. She tossed her head haughtily. "I must say, it's about time. What is their composition?"
"Mass-produced ships- ten battleships, sixteen cruisers, around thirty destroyers. No aircraft carriers. I believe there are several humanoid Sirens among the fleet as well, but my reconnaissance aircraft keep getting shot down before I can get a good look at them." Ark Royal's voice was frustrated.
Elizabeth and Lane exchanged looks. "Tough fleet," said Lane.
"I believe we can take them. The mass-produced ships aren't nearly a match for us."
"Depends on how many Sirens are among them." The destroyers were rarely a problem- even with Siren commanders, they tended to make suicidal torpedo attacks at the first opportunity, meaning they were sunk quickly. Only in large numbers could they be truly dangerous. Thirty of them? With the size of his fleet, the escort ships could probably deal with them.
The cruisers and battleships were another problem. On the whole, he believed one of his ship-girls was worth at least two or three of their mass-produced counterparts. So the correlation of forces there was more than reasonable.
But the humanoid Sirens- he'd had little experience with them. They were similar to the ship-girls, having high firepower packed into a small frame with maneuverability unmatched by any comparable "true" ship. They also tended to make the mass-produced enemy ships more effective, directing them more efficiently than they otherwise would be.
On the other hand, how much of a choice did he have? They had to engage to cover the German invasion.
It'd just be nice to know if they were going to win or not. And at what cost.
"Not a match at all," he said, forcing a smile. "Shall we begin?"
"Deutschland, Deutschland, uber alles, uber alles in der Welt," sang Deutschland as she perched on one of her ship's turrets.
Below her, Prinz Eugen rolled her eyes. "It may sound unpatriotic, but I am beginning to get tired of that song."
"Be careful who you say that to," cautioned Graf Spee. "I wouldn't want you to get shot."
"If they do decide to shoot me, let me know right away. Because I want to shoot your sister first."
Spee gave her a wry look before turning back to study the Norwegian coast. "Oscarberg Fortress will be coming up soon."
Eugen nodded. "Should be unoccupied, if the reconnaissance reports are correct. Still, I think we should engage it immediately upon coming into range."
Both their heads whipped around as a shell splashed water high into the air to the starboard side of the ship. Several more splashes in quick succession followed. A moment later, the low rumble of artillery could be heard from the east.
"Poor shooting," observed Eugen. "It seems they have a battery on that island."
The Deutschland's guns roared, drowning out Spee's reply. A moment later there was a flash of light on the island that turned into an explosion, tinged with purple and black. The strange colors were a sure sign of Siren occupation.
Ignoring Deutschland, who was screaming insults and curses at the shore installation, Eugen concentrated. Her own batteries joined the fire, shots screaming down to pound the fort. More explosions, including several secondaries, lit up the sky.
"I think we may have killed it," said Spee, shading her eyes as she peered at the island. "Do you think-"
The humanoid Sirens came racing out of a nearby fjord like quail bursting out of the underbrush. Deutschland's secondaries opened up almost immediately, showering them with 15 cm shells. They nimbly dodged the attacks, returning fire and striking Deutschland several times as Graf Spee and Prinz Eugen both dove for cover. The forward turret was hit several times, the Siren energy weapons splashing over it. When the two ship-girls looked up, they saw the turret dismounted.
Deutschland was nowhere to be seen.
Eyes wide, Spee looked around frantically for her sister. "Deutschland!"
Of the three heavy cruisers, only Prinz Eugen wasn't carrying passengers. The plan had been that one of the ships would maintain the tactical flexibility provided by being able to operate with just their rigging, but all three would remain in ship form to ensure it wasn't obvious who was carrying the invaders.
That plan, like any other, had not survived contact with the enemy. Eugen had already leapt over the side before the after-image of the Siren explosions had entirely faded from her eyes. Her rigging burst into existence as she landed, her ship dissolving and disappearing from the water.
The lead Siren was too focused on the Deutschland to notice the fast-approaching cruiser. Eugen closed the range and aimed carefully as she raced over the waves.
"Feuer," she whispered to herself.
The 10.5 cm shells struck true, spinning the Siren around with the impacts. The Siren recovered, landing in the water, but Eugen was already closing the distance.
She fired again, this time with her smaller guns. The Siren didn't even bother to dodge the smaller shells, instead swiveling her rigging around and opening up on Eugen.
Eugen winced as one hit shot off part of her rigging, the rough equivalent of dismounting two of her secondary turrets. Minor but noticeable. She veered off, narrowly avoiding the additional shots fired by the Siren.
The Siren grinned, taking her change in course for retreat. She never even noticed the torpedoes until they struck her. All of them hit, sending up a huge gout of water that swallowed up the Siren for good.
"Nobody ever remembers that heavy cruisers can carry torpedoes," muttered Eugen. She fired a few more shots at the other Sirens, forcing them to dodge.