This is based on one of the alternate scenarios from Innocence is Drowned. A little silly, but fun to write.

'Tis true, thou wast not born unto a crown,

The scepter not thy father's, but thy own.

Thy purple was not made at once in haste,

But after many other colors past,

It took the deepest princely dye at last.

In the year 1925, Britain threw off the yoke of her monarchy. She had done it before, but that previous revolution eventually caved in: the mixture of failing popular support, internal disagreement, and the rise of a certain military strongman culminated in the restoration of the old Stuart regime. Perhaps you could even argue the commonwealth killed true rebellion… the rebellion that the Britain of 1925 finally managed to finish.

The Levellers and the Diggers – and more recent men than them – had dreamt of this new, free Britain, and the people were determined to keep it that way. At the very least, they had broad popular support, but who knew if that would wax or wane with time? Even if most could agree that making a new Cromwell for themselves would kill the revolution, the exact specifics of their new government were dicier. Should they follow the French model to the letter? Or did they need an English Syndicalism for England?

(Speaking of… did Scotland and Wales need unique governments of their own? Workingmen of all nations needed to unite in class struggle, of course, but didn't these peoples deserve their own autonomies?)

Much was in the air, but one thing was certain: the old England was dead, and everyone would have to find their fitting place in the new one.

RNS Valiant, previously HMS, had spent a bit less than a decade in a monarchy. She considered herself a rival to Queen Elizabeth, first of the British Kansen, but when she died at Texel, Valiant took second place. Warspite was second eldest, the heir, the pliant little battleship high command wanted. Barham clung to their 'new' eldest sister, while Malaya came to soothe Valiant's bruised ego.

That was the start of it, really, so subtle she didn't fully realize what she was getting into. Valiant still wanted power, and she honestly thought herself a better networker than her elder sister. Maybe you could argue it was rebellious from the get-go, but it was rebellious like a pretender to the throne was rebellious. A Stuart or a Carlist claimant wasn't looking for the overthrow of the system that their claim operated in.

Mending fences with the battlecruisers wasn't easy. There was some bad blood… but shared wounds at Texel did something to help. That and some covert snubs of her sister. ("What do you mean, Repulse? How has Valiant placed Warspite under a bus? She hasn't left the room.") What her sister didn't know couldn't hurt her…

Unfortunately, that maxim applied to everyone. The political situation outside of her shuffling for power escaped her for a while, and when she did cotton on, she realized where she had positioned herself. She was with Malaya and the battlecruisers, she was buddy-buddy with Renown, Miss Revolution herself…. It was as if they had crossed the Rubicon and Valiant was the fool thinking they had one more river crossing to go before things got serious.

And then… revolution.

She wasn't dumb. There went the tiara and the ermine. She tried to bully her crew a little less. However, it wasn't the spirit of the revolution or any such thing that compelled her. It was just the politically advantageous thing to do.

Every single shipgirl of the Union of Britain had gathered in one room, from Valiant and Malaya to fresh destroyers and even a Bulin. (One of a pair the government had been working with, before…) They were a bit too numerous to sit around a single table, so they ended up sitting in a broad, messy circle of chairs. This was their round table, and in theory, no one sat at the head: they were all equals.

Again, in theory. The destroyers still tended to bow to the battleships and battlecruisers, especially those of the revolutionary vanguard. Gazes drifted, almost subconsciously, to Renown, who didn't seem too willing to break the silence. Valiant sat in her own chair – on Malaya's left – and wondered if she should attempt to speak first. Defining the direction of the conversation… but drawing no small amount of attention.

As loathe as she was to admit it, she didn't have the credentials to get the meeting going. Tamping down her pride, she gave Malaya an expectant look. Her sister cleared her throat, and everyone else turned to look at her. "Hello, everyone. This, I hope, is the first of many shipgirl meetings we'll be having. We'll have to agree on rules of order in the future… but for now, our goal is to send a representative to the Republican Navy." One of the destroyers raised her hand. "Yes?"

"We're not sending someone to London?"

Malaya sighed. "From what I've heard, we're not getting a seat in London." There was some grumbling at that. "I know, I know. But the situation with the federal government is complex, and we can't have a shipgirl locked up in drafting articles of government when we need to defend Britain."

Nelson didn't even bother with raising her hand: "So we're to become accessories to the admiralty again?"

"Well, no…" Malaya started, "We just have to mind national security…"

That was the trick, wasn't it? Unionism didn't play nicely with the style of military they were used to. Now showing up to work wasn't desertion when a boilermaker did it, but with a soldier…. There were certain thresholds that soldiers would cross if things got bad, but there was a certain understanding that they had to deal with it sometimes. Perhaps the men would get more say in things… but sometimes the desire of the soldier would have to be superseded. Or maybe the problem could be resolved if they instilled so much class consciousness in the rank and file they were all happy to die.

Several girls looked about ready to start talking, but Valiant's hand shot into the air first. Malaya – who had essentially made herself chair of this meeting – let her speak. "I think we need to put our foot down. They need us, right?" A few agreements as Malaya's expression grew more concerned. "We can't not protect Britain, but we need more autonomy when we do. We choose where the cubes go. We choose the crew for our ships. We make demands of the admiralty! It's the least we deserve!"

That idea seemed fairly popular. Not incredibly so, but enough that Malaya could jump on it to try to soothe tempers. Valiant was glad to see that of the demands she suggested, none were dropped. They were joined by more.

(Nelson was… a choice for representative. Valiant threw her name in the running, more out of habit than anything, but Nelson won out in the end. Not perfectly congenial, but she certainly had spine enough to ensure their demands were heard. And hey, it wasn't like the position was off the table forever. They could relieve her of that duty very quickly – it was the Syndicalist way of doing things. Accumulating power was supposed to be hard.)

Of her rules, the first was the 'strongest'. The latter two – control over crew appointments and an eventual special in with the munitions manufacturers – had caveats and were sort of shared with their officers. A shipgirl couldn't completely refuse to be crewed and she couldn't overrule the designers and manufacturers of her shells, but as a community, a body, they had won complete control over wisdom cubes. They could essentially store them in a place the admiralty could never reach, after all.

There was a bit of debate about whether they even needed to bother with keeping records of heredity. Who cared if a cube came from Valiant or Malaya? Well, Valiant certainly did, and she did argue as much, but it was a decision completely left to the shipgirls. They could let them pile up in a heap if they wanted to, not that it would make much strategic sense to hold them back when there were ships to cube. Speaking of… they didn't have many ships to cube. Sure, the revolutionary shipyards had a whole batch of coastal defense corvettes on the way, but there was a bit of chaos in the meantime…

One of the first they decided to cube, as a group, was actually a cargo ship. A completely civilian, non-martial craft recently renamed Winstanley. She was so wildly, flagrantly red that she managed to put off girls like Malaya, but she was good at her job, good enough to win a few points with the longshoremen and merchant marine.

It wasn't her cube that did it, but some part of her prickled at the thought of one of her cubes being used on a cargo ship. What next? Would she have to fix her own drinks? Well, yes, unless she was willing to throw her paycheck away at bars and cafes. Which she did from time to time, admittedly. She was still a refined lady who liked getting pampered, even if the pampering wasn't quite as nice as it had been when the world's resources were at their fingertips.

(She had heard rumors of a black market where delicious chocolate and vintages "liberated" from manor houses still floated around, but she had no idea how to access– Ah, no! Such a thing was beneath the dignity of a lady and might damage her already wanting reputation.)

Speaking of her lacking reputation, she wasn't even in the running for chairwoman. It was looking to be a competition between Malaya and Anson to see who could pry the most escort ships (the bulk of the fleet, even without the destroyers in construction or any potential coastguard shipgirls) from Renown's completely informal camp. The heroine of the revolution had zero interest in politics, and everyone was growing to respect that…

"Good evening, Renown!" Valiant smiled, setting down her tray at the nearly empty table. Repulse was distracted with an informal game of football Valiant had convinced one of the destroyers to start, leaving Renown approachable on the sidelines.

"Hello, Valiant. Do you need my assistance with something?"

"I just wanted to talk," Valiant said. "What did you think of those canned oranges?" They had just received cans of the stuff, proudly labeled with the logo of some Sicilian farmer's league.

"They prevent scurvy, don't they?"

Valiant almost sighed. "The flavor. Did you have any opinions on the flavor?"

"They're as fair a food as any. Sweet."

Well, did she expect riveting small talk or something as simple as bribing Renown with food? Of course not. She let the silence stretch for a few moments before speaking again: "What do you think we're doing here, Renown?" She tried to sound a bit unsure of herself, but who knew if Renown would pick up on it.

"Eating dinner?"

"No, in a grander sense… what are doing now? Just following orders from a different source?"

Renown was silent for a moment. "I've been told… that I am a knight for the people now. Was I not one before?"

A knight for the people, huh? A nice idea… but not necessarily a completely Syndicalist one. Even the most gallant member of King Arthur's court would have been a member of the warrior elite, not some plebeian. Could you serve the people while being separate from them…?

We, as shipgirls, demand that an admiral's choice of flagship not supersede our own arrangements regarding leadership. The elected head of any shipgirl formation can be removed only by a vote of no confidence (requiring a plurality in peacetime and a two-thirds supermajority in times of war), not the intervention of an officer.

Interesting fact: there were a lot of guns in Britain. A lot. The aftermath of Weltkrieg manufacturing, French arms brought in during the revolution, and a sudden emphasis on the militia and the armed workingman… There certainly wasn't a shortage, and to some extent, it was smiled upon by the government. Of course, there were checks in place to keep them out of the hands of loons, but an armed working class was one that wouldn't wilt under a counter-revolution. Marx supported armed workers, you know.

Such minuscule guns weren't what she was used to – she preferred her larger pieces – but they were useful. The great Syndicalist propaganda machine placed a special focus on the armed workingman as the instrument of his own liberation. Perhaps there was a special emphasis on the working-man but that was a complex issue. For obvious reasons, shipgirls were rather opposed to 'virile syndicalism' with a special focus on the masculine worker…

Back to guns, which just about anyone could use, including Valiant's own no-longer Royal Marines. Some of them knew her as far back as the Royal Navy days, which was… a bit embarrassing, especially contrasting the pedestal she was on then to now. Still, they had a talent and Valiant had an interest in talent.

Another fact: there was a reorganized firearm factory – previously Webley Scott, before the workers took it over – in London. They supplemented Britain's current gun supply, and were receiving a lot of favors from the Union Congress for rather obvious revolutionary reasons. However, they were still London men, involved in London affairs.

In the same way that London had a small militia separate from the professional army, she had a few small patrol vessels separate from vessels of Valiant's caliber, but those little vessels could still be improved by wisdom cubes. Maybe there was some real potential in cubed corvettes. They'd need to test it, no? That was the argument Valiant made.

Eventually, London received the special dignity of the first cubed corvette, Valiant improved her image in the eyes of Londoners and destroyers alike… and her boys got pistols at a very nice rate. Funny how that sort of thing worked out, huh? Now if only the shipgirl – borne of a cube from Valiant, to really exaggerate her role in the affair – didn't have that insufferable tendency towards Cockney rhyming slang. Couldn't any of them just be normal?

(Another curious thing: advertisements. They weren't as intense as they had been back in the days of capitalism, and there was an overall sense of fighting capital together, but unions still competed against each other. Renown's reputation could improve the fortunes of a factory all on her lonesome… but Valiant's initial plans for a pistol deal were dashed by two harsh facts. One: Renown carried a sword. Two: Valiant didn't have the appeal of Renown. Nowhere close.

Ouch.)

The positions of chair of these meetings & secretary shall both be appointed by vote. Both positions are subject to being voted out…

Chair: RNS Malaya

Secretary: RNS Hawkins

"Have you ever thought about swapping crew, Renown?"

Renown was silent for a moment. "Are my crew not doing well under my care?"

"No, that's not it. I was just thinking it might be interesting. Some sort of exchange program, or maybe even swapping men around. We want our crews working well, don't we?"

"Wouldn't swapping men around only reduce effectiveness?" Renown asked. "I am used to cooperating with them."

"Well, we can't do it willy-nilly, but maybe…" Valiant's voice got a little quieter, "Maybe some of them would do better on another ship? A lot of my boys admire you."

Not too much or too many, she hoped. Swarms of men wanting to leave her wouldn't be much good for her ego… but a bit of swapping could be good. Admittedly, there wasn't much novelty in going from Scapa Flow to Scapa Flow, and the battlecruiser vs battleship differences would pose serious issues for a hull swap, but it gave a bit of liberty to the men… liberty which might get some of the men out of Valiant's hair.

If they loved Red Renown so much, they could have her! If they swapped places with people who liked Valiant better – whether that was due to a dislike of Renown or interest in Valiant proper – then surely, they'd be a little more amenable…

She liked to think she provided for her boys. It wasn't just the pistol thing. Ideally, serving on the Valiant was something that should follow a man for the rest of his life. Uh… in a positive way! But think about it, really. She didn't think it was absurd to say that there wasn't a navy quite like Britain's anywhere in the world. Barring Canada, that was.

Even then, you might argue that Britain came out on top. They got to keep a robust corp of lower-rank officers and sailing men while dropping a lot of dinosaurs in the higher ranks. New ideas like the carrier got to have their day and then some, but more importantly there was camaraderie. The special bond of the competent, skilled men in one of the finest fleets in the world, heightened by the whole Syndicalist solidarity… thing.

Back to her boys. No small number of them were still with her from Jutland, but a few had moved inland. Some for office work, some for civilian life. She wrote letters to both. You've gone back to the farm? Really? I've never been to one, could I perhaps visit?

(Someone's wife – a long-time sweetheart, or someone they met after their service, Valiant didn't know – chuckled when they saw her. "From what you told me… I thought she'd be taller." Oh, the indignities she bore trying to win people over.)

Really, it wasn't too much trouble to make sure that any man leaving her crew could find a friend and a job waiting for him in the civilian world. Interest in the workers was laudable, you know! And before they left, they had more to enjoy than Valiant's august presence. The French and Italians were open to the idea of training exercises, especially with an experienced ship like Valiant… and what red-blooded Englishman would complain about Mediterranean beaches and women?

Sure, her boys might have had terribly boorish taste regarding women, but they appreciated her for bringing them there. The destroyers who got to tag along were pretty glad about it too: strange sights and foreign seas, something a bit more novel than the same old coast they'd be patrolling for the whole length of their careers. A week in Lancaster or La Spezia – which was more exciting?

Unfortunately, trips like that did keep her away from their little shipgirl conferences, but she was busy winning friends abroad… and securing support from destroyers and cruisers far from home, where Malaya and Anson weren't breathing down their necks. If it was a simple matter of one ship, one vote, destroyers would come out ahead every time.

Honestly, that seemed like a bit of a weakness.

Considering the request from the Trade Union Congress, the planned Channel exercise has been moved to the Bay of Biscay, in support of the young Spanish Republic, during which a cube will be supplied to the Spanish destroyer Lepanto, in exchange for eased restraints on Spanish unions and reduced tariffs. Hopes are high.

Chair: RNS Anson

Secretary: RNS Amazon

Months after the Bay of Biscay exercise, they were reminded that revolutionary progress could be reversed with terrible ease. General Sanjuro ended the republican dream, for a while, and a Syndicalist wisdom cube fell into the hands of the reactionaries. Lepanto lived and breathed still – the Spanish were the Spanish, yes, but they weren't that dumb – but she was making cubes for the monarchists now. It had been a bad investment… if they were allowed to make investments anymore.

Valiant hadn't actually participated in that particular drill, as charming as Gascony might have sounded. Foreign training was all well and good, but things continued to draw her attention back home. There were some interesting tests regarding how early you could cube a ship and bulins…. There was a lot you could do with cubes when you had a decent quantity of them, and she knew Spain was some ways from that. Still, the news upset a lot of the destroyers, so it was best Valiant seemed upset.

"I just… thought I would get to see her again, you know?" Grenville frowned. "She seemed like such a swell girl…"

"It isn't impossible, right?" Comet said. "If there was… another revolution…?"

Oh, like a revolution was just something that happened, all nice and neatly! Like shipgirls weren't prime targets, like murder wasn't a logical extension of scuttling…

"Do you want more tea, Miss Valiant?" Glasgow asked. "Black, just how it pleases ya…"

"That would be marvelous." Valiant smiled, taking a cup. Glasgow was no Cassandra, but she could brew a fine tea. Grenville messed it up so many times… the Valiant of a decade ago – Lord, it had been that long? – would have blown up at her, but she was a constituent. An ally. Most of the ships she socialized with were destroyers now.

They kept on looking at her. Why did they keep on looking at her?

We have resolved to be more cautious about who we give wisdom cubes, in fear of furnishing the reactionaries with more weapons. As Valiant said, "We have lost a comrade because the Union Congress jumped the gun." While cubes are not as rare as they once were, this was an expensive lesson for us to learn. Our fight requires bravery, but it also requires caution, perhaps even cynicism. At the very least, we need a voice in London.

Chair: RNS Malaya

Secretary: RNS Hardy

The destroyers really struggled to forget Lepanto. They tried to keep track of her whereabouts using Spanish newspapers, they sent money from their paychecks to Syndicalist organizations supporting the workers of Iberia… It was kind of sweet, Valiant supposed. She wouldn't pretend that she and Malaya didn't pay special attention to news reports from Canada.

As cold as it may have sounded, there was a certain value in the loss of Lepanto. In addition to placing a wedge between shipgirls and the civilian administration of the Union of Britain, it had sent a spike of fear through the heart of many a destroyer. Fear for a friend, sure, and fear of a cubed Spain, but also fear regarding their own place in the world. A shipgirl might feel invincible on the high seas when she had a supportive crew and hundreds of years of proud naval tradition behind her…

But on shore, they were weak. Prone to logistics – call Valiant old fashioned, but she didn't trust coal liquefaction one bit – and prone to politics. That, plus the low-lying knowledge that they were the disposable ones, the screen placed between the battleships and the enemy… well, there was some unrest there waiting to be harnessed, a desperate need for someone who seemed to be on their side.

Really, the Spanish matter had surprised Valiant. She hadn't expected counterrevolution, but damn if it didn't work out well for her. The destroyers were surprisingly jumpy and sensitive. Maybe that was due to their role as screens, maybe it was something to do with their age… but Valiant had found subjects for herself, ones desperate for a guiding hand.

That was part of it won, right there, but she couldn't bumble things when she was so close. The Spanish matter had also reignited fears of reactionary movements in the Syndicalist states, so there was a bit too much scrutiny for her to start making major moves. Solidify the supermajority, make sure that the London and Admiralty appointments were filled by her girls, and wait.

Destiny had been pretty accommodating so far, hadn't it? Well, destiny and Hardy. Maybe Valiant should move someone else into the seat soon? Power shouldn't be accumulating, after all.

Unanimous agreement to cube RNS Rebecca on the anniversary of the founding of the Union of Britain. Renown, Malaya, & Anson will be attending festivities alongside the new ship on the River Mersey. Ramillies, Repulse, Nelson, & Rodney will attend celebrations in London. Valiant proposed a merger of the roles of Head of Logistics and Attache to Munitions Unions. Motion passed.

Chair: RNS Anson

Secretary: RNS Hardy

Valiant tried not to jump the gun with mergers like that. A case had to be ironclad – especially if she was the one making it – if she wanted to get around fears of a single position growing too powerful. Her comrades loved their carefully outlined positions with obsessively specific powers and whatnot. Still, she had managed it, with a few subtle reminders of the greenboys at Jutland and other tales that had the old battleships cringing. The destroyers didn't need to be sold on it, fortunately.

Honestly, she would have been happy with that alone before the holiday. She had scored a minor win, and it would hopefully be swept under the rug when there were parties to be had and speeches to be made. She'd chat a few girls up during their breaks, maybe exploit the absence of Malaya and company a little bit… but it would be a normal day. She could ease up on the ambitions a bit. If nothing else, the Syndicalists had respect for a good work-life balance.

The man on the radio chattered about how resplendent Renown looked in red as Valiant set up the pieces on the chessboard. Resolution was playing white today, but Valiant favored her chances. In what spare time she had, she had been trying to brush up on the theory.

Resolution opened with a Zukertort. Kingside knight over the pawns and toward the center, trying to project power over the center of the board without the use of pawns. Flexible, but also something of a delaying move. She wasn't committing with her pawns yet… and Valiant would seize the moment. Move the pawn in front of the queen ahead two, and get ready to take the center!

She was met with the Réti Opening. (He was… Bohemian? Uppercase. Either that or a Slovak.) Whatever. Pawn in front of the queenside bishop moved two forward, threatening Valiant's pawn. A novel, hypermodern opening… from like, ten years ago. Personally, Valiant had never been a big fan of the hypermodern style, especially not when it was used against her to shred the pawns she sent into the center.

Still, if she played smart, she could manage to take control of the board's center. Hypermodernism hadn't killed the old ways entirely. Heck, none of the major figures of the movement had even managed a world championship. They had been good… but they hadn't been the best.

As she contemplated her move, the voice on the radio grew panicked. "Gunshots! There was a sound quite like gunshots!" Faintly, she thought she heard panicked voices over the radio. She dropped the piece she had picked up – touch-move rule, woops – and rushed to the radio. "We're unsure as to what is happening onstage, where the newly formed Rebecca was introducing herself–"

Was Malaya…? Was Anson…? She froze.

"My God! We're receiving substantiated reports of gunfire at a charitable lunch in London!"

Retribution froze up, but Malaya moved. She thought she could control her radio and mirrors from here, and she needed the boys to move. Everyone needed to move. There was a non-zero chance that there was a third shooter lurking…

And if there wasn't, that was okay. Valiant would act like one was a potential threat for as long as possible. She had missed the opportunity presented to her during the revolution. She wouldn't miss her window again.

Her crew would make good guards for an emergency meeting of their little council, wouldn't they? The destroyers had to be so terribly afraid right now.

Winstanley refers to an English Civil War era Digger/True Leveller, a sort of protosocialist.