The distance between Zumwalt and the enemy fleet dwindled to a mere ten kilometers, a tense hour-long journey through eerily calm waters. As she approached, the remnants of her destructive assault became clear. The first wreck she encountered lay less than a kilometer away, its scorched hull reflecting the dimming light of day.
The vessel was black, its design strange yet intriguing. The placement of its cannons and VLS cells struck her as unconventional, almost experimental. But there was something even more unsettling.
"Why didn't they fire back?" Zumwalt muttered to herself, her eyes narrowing.
It wasn't arrogance; it was a genuine question. The enemy fleet had ample time to retaliate during her assault. Even with the chaos of a surprise attack, at least some defensive measures should have been deployed. Yet, nothing.
She activated her onboard cameras to scan the wreck in detail. No signs of life. No bodies in the water. No lifeboats deployed. The absence of any crew confirmed her suspicion.
"Drone ships." she concluded, her voice tinged with frustration and unease. "Just like the ones used to sink that Directorate sub off the Alaskan coast."
The memory of that mission resurfaced. Back then, she'd marveled at the efficiency and ruthlessness of unmanned vessels. Now, it seemed, she was up against something similar, though vastly more advanced.
Satisfied the ship was inoperable, Zumwalt set her sights on another wreck, a massive cruiser engulfed in flames. As she drew closer, she couldn't help but critique its design.
"They didn't care about aesthetics at all, did they?" She muttered, wrinkling her nose at the ship's blocky, utilitarian form. "Built to be expendable. Cheap. Disposable. Classic drone logic."
Her tone softened as she analyzed its construction. The lines of the ship were sleek, futuristic even, but unmistakably alien.
"This isn't Directorate tech." she said, her analytical mind shifting into high gear. "If they had something like this, they'd have deployed it at the start of the war."
Her thoughts spiraled, piecing together possibilities, discarding the implausible, until one answer remained—a chilling, improbable truth.
"I'm not in my world anymore." she said quietly, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. "Another world... Somehow."
The realization hit like a torpedo. Zumwalt scanned the horizon, her unease growing. Near the sinking remains of what seemed to be an aircraft carrier, she noticed something else odd.
"Wait a minute." She muttered. Her pulse quickened. "Where are the planes? There were at least eight enemy aircraft left!"
She scrambled to activate her radar, her fingers instinctively reaching for controls that responded as though extensions of her will. The radar hummed to life, sweeping the skies for any sign of movement.
Nothing.
No aircraft. No foreign objects. No threats. Just her, alone amidst the ruins of battle.
"Well, that's... lucky," she said, exhaling deeply. "If I'd been attacked now, I'd have been in real trouble. Even back in Hawaii, I had Port Royal covering my six."
The mention of her fallen escort ship tugged at her heart, a pang of guilt threading through her thoughts. Shaking it off, she strode back to the bridge.
Inside, the familiar glow of the command desk greeted her. She activated the holographic map, a three-dimensional projection of the Pacific shimmering into view. Her gaze locked onto the marked location of Hawaii, a place etched deeply into her memories.
"If this really is another world," she murmured, her fingers tracing the map, "there shouldn't be anything there. Not like when I sailed to Hawaii back home."
The idea of returning to the islands felt both logical and daunting. If Hawaii existed here, perhaps she could find answers—or allies. But if it didn't, what then?
Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam, Oahu, Hawaii
KAN-SEN Sector
The tropical sun bathed the bustling naval base in golden light as Cleveland strode into the KAN-SEN sector with a spring in her step. The blonde Ship Girl, dressed in her signature naval-inspired outfit, exuded an air of cheerful energy that caught the attention of everyone she passed. Her trademark tomboyish charm was on full display, though today, something about her seemed brighter—happier.
She hummed softly to herself, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she replayed the earlier conversation in her mind. One of the Marine pilots from Hickam Field, a dashing young man with a confident smile, had asked her out on a date. It was unexpected, thrilling, and nerve-wracking all at once.
"Wow, Cleveland, you look unusually cheerful today," a refined voice broke through her thoughts.
Turning, Cleveland saw Wales approaching. The Ship Girl's short blonde hair framed her face perfectly, and her red eyes carried the weight of experience. Wales' elegant demeanor, enhanced by her royal-style attire, contrasted sharply with Cleveland's lively and down-to-earth personality.
"Oh, Wales!" Cleveland greeted, rubbing the back of her neck shyly. "Well, uh, yeah… One of the Marine airmen from next door asked me out on a date tonight. To be honest, I'm kind of nervous."
Wales grinned, her smile both teasing and supportive, and patted Cleveland on the shoulder. "That's wonderful, Cleveland! It sounds like you've already started making plans for after the war."
Cleveland groaned, her cheeks puffing slightly. "Ugh, don't say stuff like that—it's bad luck!"
Wales chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the reaction. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. It's just… I didn't expect you, of all people, to get a date. And with a Marine, no less! Have you heard about their reputation?"
Cleveland raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Not really, Wales. We're in completely different sectors, remember? I usually meet him when I'm off base or shopping in Honolulu. But hey, speaking of plans—shouldn't you be heading to Singapore with Repulse?"
"Haha, nice try deflecting, Cleveland," Wales said, smirking. "But no, not yet. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth specifically instructed me to stay here for now. She said the security of the Malay Peninsula and Singapore can be left to the mass production fleet. But…" Wales' voice dropped, her tone suddenly serious. "Between us, Cleveland, I've been hearing whispers. It's highly likely that Japan will declare war on the United States soon."
Cleveland froze, her cheerful demeanor shifting to shock. "What?! But they just handed out medals of friendship and peace not long ago! Even Enterprise and Lexington got them!"
Wales shook her head, a scowl darkening her features. "Cleveland, my friend, do you really put stock in pieces of iron engraved with meaningless words? I didn't think you were that naive."
"I'm not naive, Wales," Cleveland retorted, crossing her arms defensively. "I just… I just want to believe in the best. There's no harm in that, is there?"
Wales' expression softened, her voice losing its edge. "No, there's nothing wrong with it. It's just that thinking that way can leave you unprepared—and deeply disappointed—if the worst does happen. But listen, Cleveland. If Japan does declare war, Britain will stand with you. Always."
The warmth in Wales' tone did little to mask the weariness behind her words. She sighed, placing a reassuring hand on Cleveland's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so harsh. Lately, I've had… a lot on my mind."
Cleveland tilted her head, her voice quiet and filled with concern. "Is it about what happened to Mrs. Hood? When she almost didn't make it after the Krauts' attack?"
Wales inhaled sharply, the memory clearly painful. "Yes," she admitted. "I was there. Right beside her. And yet, I couldn't do anything except carry her broken, bloodied body while I cried like a coward."
"Wales, no," Cleveland said quickly, her voice firm but kind. "You're not a coward. You're brave. Those damned Krauts just got lucky that day."
A small, sad smile tugged at Wales' lips. "Thank you for saying that, Cleveland, even if you're just trying to cheer me up. I appreciate it." She took a step back, regaining her composure. "Good luck on your date tonight. You'll do great."
With that, Wales turned and walked toward the barracks designated for Royal Navy Ship Girls. Cleveland watched her go, the older Ship Girl's regal figure disappearing around a corner.
Sighing softly, Cleveland turned her gaze toward the harbor. In the distance, she spotted the USS Enterprise, her imposing form a symbol of American might and resilience. The carrier was preparing to set sail for a training exercise on the high seas, her towering flight deck alive with activity.
"Let's hope the worst doesn't happen," Cleveland murmured, her thoughts heavy with uncertainty. She glanced once more toward the horizon before continuing her walk toward the barracks assigned to Union Eagle Ship Girls, her cheerful resolve tempered by a gnawing sense of unease.
300 KM from Oahu, Hawaii
December 7, 1941
The Pacific stretched endlessly under a sky tinged with the first hues of dawn. The calm waters mirrored the serene sky, belying the storm brewing beneath the surface. Among the formidable ships of the Kido Butai, the IJN Akagi sailed as the centerpiece, her presence dominating the fleet with an air of quiet authority.
In her Ship Girl form, Akagi stood elegantly on her deck, her fox ears twitching ever so slightly in the crisp morning breeze. Her brownish hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her red-and-black kimono, accented with intricate designs, swayed gently as she moved. Her golden eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the horizon with an unshakable focus.
Beside her stood Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, his stern face illuminated by the faint glow of the ship's lights. Dressed immaculately in the uniform of a high-ranking officer of the Imperial Japanese Navy, his posture was rigid, his gaze heavy with the weight of command.
"My Lord Nagumo," Akagi began, her voice carrying a melodic undertone that belied the gravity of the situation. "What do you think of the final preparations for this operation?"
Nagumo, ever the pragmatist, crossed his arms and exhaled deeply before answering. "A mess," he admitted bluntly. "We can only be thankful that the ones we've brought along are Imperial Navy soldiers. If we'd had to rely on those arrogant fools from the Army, things might have gone differently. They've been too preoccupied in Manchuria, China, and Korea to pay attention to the Pacific. It's time we show them—and the world—the power of the Navy. Don't you agree, Akagi?"
Akagi tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a graceful smile. Her laughter rang out like a soft chime, carrying both amusement and confidence. "Of course, my lord. But the question remains—how do we plan to sustain our soldiers when they begin occupying Hawaii? Supplies will be critical for holding such a distant territory."
Nagumo's expression did not waver. "We can manage it," he said with measured calm, "but it will come at a cost. If we're to maintain a supply line to Hawaii, it will delay or even jeopardize other campaigns. An invasion of Indochina or the Dutch East Indies may have to wait. Every available ship will be tied to this effort, and for this plan to succeed, we must ensure that all American ships are in port when we strike."
Akagi nodded thoughtfully, her mind calculating the implications. "Indeed, my Lord Nagumo. A delicate balance, but one we can maintain. Shall we proceed?" She turned to face him fully, her sharp gaze locking with his.
Nagumo's lips pressed into a firm line as he gave a single, resolute nod. "Begin the first wave attack," he commanded. His voice was steady, unwavering. "Transmit this to the entire fleet: Tora, Tora, Tora."
A signal officer nearby snapped to attention, quickly relaying the order across the Kido Butai. The serene atmosphere of the fleet transformed instantly as the engines of the first wave of aircraft roared to life. Fighters, bombers, and torpedo planes lined up on the flight decks of the carriers, all of this done without any human crew.
Akagi watched the activity with quiet pride, the corners of her mouth curling into a subtle smile. She could feel the power of the fleet thrumming beneath her feet, a reminder of the might of the Imperial Navy.
As the first planes lifted off, their silhouettes cutting against the rising sun, Akagi turned to Nagumo one last time. "The dawn of a new era begins today, my lord," she said, her tone laced with both anticipation and conviction.
Nagumo didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stood silently, watching the planes disappear into the horizon, bound for Oahu. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but resolute.
"May the Emperor be with us."
And with that, the gears of history were set into motion. The calm waters of the Pacific would soon bear witness to a moment that would reverberate across the world, forever changing the course of the war.
USS Zumwalt, 90 KM from Oahu, Hawaii
The USS Zumwalt glided silently over the calm Pacific waters, her angular hull slicing through the waves like a knife. The ship's automated systems hummed faintly, an orchestra of precision engineering and cutting-edge technology. Inside, however, the mood was far less serene.
"Why didn't the engineers fix these cables back on Mare Island?" Zumwalt grumbled to herself, her voice carrying a tinge of irritation. Navigating through the internal passageways of her own ship was proving more cumbersome than it should have been. Bundles of electrical wiring hung loosely in places, swaying slightly with the ship's motion, creating minor obstacles in the otherwise pristine corridors.
As she turned a corner, Zumwalt halted abruptly at the sight of one of her onboard Shipboard Autonomous Firefighting Robots (SAFFiR). The bipedal robot, standing just shy of human height, moved with a mechanical precision, its sensors scanning for potential hazards.
Zumwalt regarded the robot with a mixture of annoyance and gratitude. "You've saved me from more than one disaster, you know," she muttered, stepping aside to let it pass. Watching its steady gait disappear around another corner, she sighed and continued toward her destination: the armory.
Inside the armory, racks of weaponry gleamed under the artificial lighting. Assault rifles lined the walls, including the Marine Corps' favored M27 IAR and the more familiar, slightly older M4A1 carbines. Zumwalt ran her fingers lightly over one of the weapons before moving on. Despite her advanced systems, there was something comforting about the physical presence of firearms—a reminder of the human hands that once wielded them.
Finally, Zumwalt reached the Mission Command Center, the nerve center of her operations. She sank into one of the high-backed chairs near the command desk, a holographic display springing to life in front of her. Data streams flowed across the screen, but one glaring absence troubled her.
"Eighty kilometers out from Pearl Harbor," she muttered, her golden eyes narrowing at the display. "Not a single transmission I recognize... No friendly signals, no familiar comms chatter. Now would really be the time to have a damn satellite." Her irritation was palpable as she tapped a finger on the edge of the console, frustration simmering beneath her composed exterior.
As Zumwalt closed the distance to Oahu, the tension only grew. By the time she reached 30 kilometers from Pearl Harbor, an ominous sight filled her vision.
Thick black smoke billowed into the morning sky, curling like dark tendrils against the pale blue backdrop. Fires raged on the horizon, their orange glow stark even in daylight. The once-familiar silhouette of Pearl Harbor was now obscured by chaos.
Zumwalt's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as a cold wave of dread washed over her. "No," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "What... What happened here?"
Her advanced radar systems began scanning furiously, searching for answers amidst the wreckage, but the signals she received were faint and indecipherable.
"Pearl Harbor... under attack?" Her voice rose in disbelief. "But by who?"
A sinking feeling settled in her gut. Whatever was happening, it wasn't something she had been prepared for. Setting her jaw, she resolved to find out the truth. As she adjusted her course and prepared for the unknown, a grim determination overtook her features.
The once-calm seas around her seemed to darken, a foreboding prelude to the chaos she was about to uncover.
To Be Continue.