Fleetgirls at Floodtide (Azur Lane/1900s Alternate History)

Hello, and thanks for checking this out. This is an alternate-history story using elements from Azur Lane. It follows the career of Anderson L. Stevens, an American who is thrust into the second World War with the bombing of Pearl Harbor. The questers will be in control of his actions, and his task group, to turn the tide of the war in the Allies' favor.

This story is, as mentioned, alternate history, and many things have turned out for the worse. This will not be a grand strategy quest, you will vote on actions to take in battle, which operations are decided upon by the allies, and character interactions day to day, but the minutiae of logistics and ornaments will be handled by the officers who specialize in such things. In addition, while I study history, I am not a naval historian and have never served in the military, so please forgive any errors. Any pointed out will be happily fixed, as I'm doing this as much to learn about the time period as I am to write this story.

This story will feature mature content, both in terms of violence and of a sexual nature. All shipgirl designs have been aged up accordingly.

With all that said, please enjoy!

And of course,

Thanks to Armoury for the beta, and thanks to Malicia and Seimic for keeping things sane.

—

My name is Admiral Anderson L. Stevens. Commander, Naval Air Force Atlantic, Retired. I am seventy years old and live in a modest home not far from where I grew up in Yonkers. I still take the boat out on weekends, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't recall the war. It isn't something that easily leaves the mind… the senses. The breeze carrying salt water can make a man feel fifty years younger just by the smell of it. The well-wishers were fewer these days, the writers seeking interviews even less. My generation, the greatest generation some may call it, was dying off. But… the true greatest generation remained deep underneath the oceans, their bones resting but their spirits still present. The time would come that I would join them, them and the proud ships we lost beside them.

Do you hear that? The breeze coming through the trees? If you listen, just carefully enough. You can hear them still, the jostling of bones in the ocean, the roar of the guns, and the shouts in the wind.

I still miss it.

I joined in 1918, fresh out of Annapolis, of course, then, it was to fight the Germans. That changed, of course, with the arrival of the Sirens. Alien beings, some shaped like humans, most not, monstrosities of steel and biology. Their motives were unknown, the responded to no communications, and the world paused, wars forgotten.



And then they attacked, and the nations of the world were crippled in an instant. Whether the ship was made for cargo or war it mattered little, they were either sunk or narrowly escaped. The armor of the siren vessels was impenetrable to artillery and bombs, and the humanoids could tear through a hull as easily as a man could tissue paper. By 1919 there was little in the way left of global economics, and the world waited, crippled, hurting, bleeding. Defenseless against the silent invaders.

Then, the Russian Empire… partook in a miracle. A ship gained conscience, found in human form and sleeping deep within the hull, clutching a blue cube in her hand. At once, things changed, the city of Leningrad was saved, the ship sailing out of its own volition to batter the siren ships away with ease. Then others awoke, again and again. HMS Warspite, USS Texas, IJN Mikasa. More and more came to life, ships gained wills of their own, and through their firepower, the oceans were taken back into the grasp of humanity.

But that did not mean peace.

The sirens retreated to the ice caps, northern and southern, and since, besides raids and scouting parties, have done little. But that did not mean the world was saved.

The Russian Empire was a broken, fractured thing. It narrowly remained whole following several successive failed revolutions, and now it stands as a failing, dying beast of an empire.

Imperial Japan was on a war footing, stretching its influence across the Pacific and invading China in the name of glory and Empire.

Germany had fallen sway to a dictatorial government, led by the National Socialist Party, led by a madman. They had made arguments on the world stage that mankind should be working with the Sirens.

America… we kept to ourselves, we fought the Sirens, kept up our watch as we should, and helped others do the same. But we would not be involved in any more foreign wars, too many had died in the trenches, and too many more died in distant, foreign oceans. Under President Alf Landon we had continued to build our naval and air forces, technological advancements thoughts only a dream just a few years ago coming to the fore under the power of the almighty American dollar and refugees from abroad.

But for me, that meant little, as I had been fighting since 1918.

—

Commander Anderson L. Stevens, Commanding Officer of the USS Cassin. Point Opal, The Antarctic. October 20th, 1939.

"Hard left rudder, hard over."

"Hard left rudder, hard over, aye sir!"

Cassin lurches, and swings to the left, some men brace themselves, and some men stumble. Wait for it… "All ahead flank! Fire as you bear!"

I reach up to grab the strap above the window, bracing. Then the side of the Cassin opens up, the five inchers firing with abandon into the surfaced siren submarine. The thing is a twisted amalgamation of metal and flesh, pulsing green and threshing in the water, unable to sink from the damage the depth charges had done to it. The first few shots go well high, skipping across the water to slam into the nearby ice shelf. The next-

"It's hit below the waterline!" my XO calls out.

A loud, mechanical shriek fills the air as the thing flails in the water. Its guns swivel around, aiming directly for the Cassin.

*BANG*

The shots go wildly off target, one screaming over the bridge, the other not firing at all. Where the gun emplacement had been was now nothing more than a smoking wreck. Because Cassin herself was on her now. A goddess of war, black hair whipping in the wind as she presses her wrist-mounted gun pressing against its hull and firing, again and again.

"Die you fucking prick!" Cassin's voice shouts over the intercom.

"Cassin, Language," I remind gently.

"Gunboat, starboard side!"

I jerk my head to see a mess of flesh and guns dive off the ice shelf and into the water, her guns swinging around to fire upon the HMAS Melbourne. "Cassin, support Texas in dealing with that cruiser, we're moving in support of the Melbourne."

"Aye sir!" Cassin replies over the intercom, then fires one more fusillade into the now-sinking destroyer before tearing off over the surface of the water to chase after Texas. The woman in question firing a pair of revolvers at one of the humanoid sirens, a short squat thing that had a mechanical squid for a head. Behind them, behind both of them, was the Texas herself, her guns firing as fast as they could be loaded into a battlecruiser a mere hundred yards away from her.

I drew in a breath, "Bring us to one-three-zero, prepare to fire as soon as the Melbourne is clear."

"Aye sir, one-three-zero sir!"

I then turn my head towards the radioman. "Get Melbourne on the horn, order him to veer off."

The man… kid turned. "Aye sir!"

So went the days work.

—


View: https://youtu.be/og2Fn0f8WJA?si=mS-rVu6ahv8a-FVV

Captain Anderson L. Stevens, Commanding Officer of the USS Cassin. Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii. November 11th, 1939.

—

There was something homey about a destroyer, it didn't have the glamour of a battleship, and it didn't have the creature comforts of a carrier. But there was a pleasantness to it all the same. One could never be fooled that they weren't on the ocean, and I had, through effort, gotten to know every member of my crew quite well. Some more than well, at great insistence on their part.

"Cassin, I am trying to write the log, please kindly stop kicking the back of my seat."

"Hmm… could do that, or you could write faster," Cassin replies, then kicks… gently thankfully, the back of my chair once more.

I look up momentarily, then sigh. "I recognize you are excited to be on leave, but I have to write my reports regardless."

"Can't it wait until after we're done though?" Cassin asks. "We just got here last night, now I'm tied to a pier and you are writing log!"

"If you don't wish for me to sing your praises to the CincPAC, please just let me know. I am currently writing about how you tore a destroyer in half."

"Oooh, tell them I did it while singing the national anthem, maybe they'll make a new propaganda poster!" Cassin then snorts, rolling over on my bed. "They're getting tougher though, that one almost made me break a sweat."

"Noted," then I look up as a knock sounds on the door to my quarters. "Cassin, the door please."

Cassin raises a ringer, thankfully, the pointer finger, and the lock to the door undoes itself. The door opens a moment later to reveal my XO, more specifically, my XO looking rather shocked.

"Jones?" I ask, staring at the sweat covering the man's near-pitch-black skin. "Did you run all the way here?"

My executive officer says nothing for several moments. "Stevens, Sir. News… orders from CincPac." Then he offers a piece of paper forward.

I take it, and read it over, twice.

"Well?" Cassin asks, appearing over my shoulder.

"Germany has invaded Poland, our mutual defense operation against the Sirens is considered no longer active as… the Sirens are…." I continue to stare at the paper, not believing the last line. The sirens are supporting the Germans on land?

—

Captain Anderson L. Stevens, Commanding Officer of the USS Cassin. Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii. In drydock for ordnance alterations in Pearl Harbor and rest. December 6th, 1941.

—

I awoke as was the norm for a man of my station. With a young woman poking me in the face repeatedly. I open my eyes slowly, first taking stock of the situation. First, it was dawn, which was good. I wasn't exactly on leave, but I didn't have to get up at four in the morning either. Second, I was in my bed, which was also good. Cassin had a nasty habit of moving me around the ship while I slept as she found it amusing. Third is that Cassin was laying on my chest, her legs kicking up in the air, a bright smile on her face as she grinned from mere inches away. "Morning Captain~"

I stare at her, blinking. "You are neither a cup of coffee, nor does it appear you have prepared one. So, Cassin, might I ask why you are waking me up on this particular morning?"

"Because you," Cassin reaches forward to poke my nose. "Promised me a vacation after that last siren sub hunt."

I close my eyes, then nod my head. "Then enjoy Hawaii, I'm going back to sleep."

I feel Cassin slide off the bed, then I feel myself being lifted off of it. I open my eyes to see Cassin grabbing me by the front of my sleepwear and hauling me off the bed one-handed. "Captain, vacation."

"Cassin, manners."

Cassin sticks her tongue out at me, then drops me back down onto the ground. She, for her part, is fully dressed in her uniform already. A modified version of the already existing WAVES uniform, her blue uniform was crisp and suspiciously perfect. Even the hat was clean and free of wrinkles.

I observed that for a moment, then made my way over to my clothing stand. "You are suspiciously well put together this morning Cassin, that excited to be around Pennsylvania?"

Cassin opens her mouth to reply, then shuts it. But the wide grin on her face told me enough. She had been berthed behind Pennsylvania just yesterday, right beside her sister Downes in drydock, and ever since she had been bouncing around the place looking forward to bugging the 'big ships'. It wasn't something necessarily uncommon, for the shipgirls of destroyers and the like to be excited to be in their presence. But in my experience, it was one of two things, awe, or a need to show off how great they were in comparison. With Cassin, thankfully, it was the former. There was no such thing as 'too big a gun' for the girl.

"I mean…" Cassin kicks her polished shoes against the flooring. "I guess they are kinda cool, you think I could… maybe play with Pennsylvania later?"

"You certainly can, but for now we have some assignments to get to, namely some meetings about your refit."

Cassin groans. "Don't remind me, you know how uncomfortable it is to feel all those cables being shoved onboard? I'm fine the way I am regardless."

"While I don't disagree, what the Navy says goes Cassin." I reply. I finish buttoning up the jacket, then turn to see Cassin idly twirling her hair. She always kept it in a long ponytail that always ended up either down to her waist, or up on her shoulder. Now though, she was twisting it around her finger while glancing at the porthole of myr in-port cabin.

"Well, what do you think?"

"Meaning?" I ask, bending down to tie my shoes.

"Well, you've been heading a Destroyer flotilla for a bit, and as far as you ever mentioned you commanded a Destroyer before me as well." Cassin says.

"The Wainwright, yes."

Cassin's face twists. "Stuck up bitch threatening people for drinking alcohol."

I finish tying the shoe, then stand up straight, looking down at Cassin. "The point?"

"Did you focus on Destroyer's or something back at Annapolis? Or is this just where they stuck ya?"

—

This will mark your flagship and point of command going forward after Pearl.

[] [I was a Destroyer Man]

[] [Cruisers, middleweights, best of both worlds.]

[] [Battleships, the big guns.]

[] [Naval Aviation, a relatively new field, but an interesting one.]

—

General history of the world.

In 1918, an alien race known as the 'Sirens' appeared at the north and south poles. In due time they had heavily damaged most ports in the world and made shipping hazardous. Through a combined effort, of the United States, France, the United Kingdom, Russia, and Japan. The 'Azur Lane' was formed to defeat them, after several years of fighting…

They succeeded. The Sirens retreated into the Arctic to lick their wounds, fortifying themselves in a position none could assault them.

The world's economy collapsed, due to a mix of already overtaxed economies still recovering from the First World War, and the near global collapse in shipping, the world fell into a deep depression. The watch against the Sirens continued, but the alliance known as 'Azur Lane' collapsed.

The year is now 1941, Nazi Germany has risen again from the ashes of the First World War to wreak havoc across Europe and Africa, the nation controls as far west as the French Coast, and as far east as Moscow. On their side… is the Sirens, ships that have wrested control of the Mediterranean, and alien troops that have been pushing across the continent. They, with their ally Italy, have made the continent of Europe grow dark under tyranny.

The United States is an isolationist nation, now in the second term of President Alf Landon, the United States is a naval superpower without a peer, however, the Sirens have once again started to wage war out of the Arctic, and even their resources are being tested. To the chagrin of some of their former allies, however, America has refused to be involved with wars or aid to Europe in any way.

France has fallen, the country as a whole has become little more than disparate fighting forces, and a government in exile in London. There is no Vichy France.

Poland, Czechslokavia, Hungary, Romania, Norway, The Low Countries, and the Balkans have all fallen under the boot of Germany. With Italy laying claim to Greece and parts of Africa. The British and French Empires no longer hold any sway over Northern Africa and the Middle East.

The United Kingdom stands alone, their fleet, once the pride of the world, is fighting a heroic battle around their island. Having already fought off two attempted naval invasions at Dover, the English people are truly in their finest hour.

The Dai-Nippon Teikoku Kaigun is four hundred miles from Oahu. The Kriegsmarine is three hundred miles from New York City.

The day is December 6th, the year is 1941.

This is the Second Siren War.