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

Thanks to @Dragontrapper for the comm!

This is canon.

—

The USS Ingraham was a proud ship. She was a modern ship. She had several… well, perhaps 'illegal' would be a strong word to describe her modifications. After all, everything she had done technically took place in international waters, and also it's not a crime if you haven't reported it to somebody when you are employed by the US Military. That's just how things worked in her strange little mind. Indeed, so what if she had modified her engines? Powerplant? Turrets and radar assembly? They had given them to her, therefore they were her property to do with as she saw fit. So what if she had to ban her crew from most mechanical spaces due to the threat of rapid unplanned human disassembly, that wasn't her problem.

Bubo, scientific name… Bubo Bubo. An owl, or is it? Ingraham. Thinks. Not. Bubo, or is it in truth, Bunker Hill? A parasitic being? A twin? Or merely a construction like the infamous Germanic rigging? Ingraham must know, no.

Science must know.

"E-excuse me, Miss… Ingraham, are you sure this is a good ide-" The sailor stuttered.

"Quiet." Ingraham hisses.

Then, she heard it. The tippy taps of the prey… that is to say science experiment. One dead rat attached to the rail, one door left open… then, it appears. Squat, a foot tall with brown feathers and pronounced eyebrows. It comes to a stop next to the railing, staring at the rat slowly twisting and turning with the seabreeze, tied to the railing by little more than a string.

Ingraham stares down at it, processing, studying. Then… watches as it leans forward, and snips the rope with its beak. It stares down at the rat as it lands upon the deck, it tilts its head slowly, this way and that, then, gently, as if it is afraid of germs. Pushes the rat over the side of the ship with a wing.

"Now!"

The sailor swings down the fishing net, directly over the top of the owl. With a loud clank the metal rim of the net hits the deck.

"Gotcha!" Ingraham shouts in delight, kneeling down to stare at the owl. "Now. What are yo-"

The words die in Ingraham's throat as the handle of the net falls onto the deck with a clatter. The reason being… the owl was staring at them. Only, it was no longer an owl. Oh, in truth, that is exactly what it was, and if Ingraham was to scientifically describe it, that was what she would use with the benefit of hindsight. But as the lights dimmed around the gunnery space, as the shadows lengthened, as the sound of the waves lashing against the ship became impossible distant… it was more. The owl was, simply, more. Black eyes of infinite depth stared up into Ingraham's own. She saw herself in the reflection, something her scientific brain noted to be impossible in the jet-black orbs.

"G-g-good owl?" Ingraham says slowly.

"Hoo." Replied the voice of eternity.

Ingraham screamed and disappeared, back on her own bridge hugging her captain much to his surprise and shock. Bubo… Bubo merely reappeared outside the net, stared at it for a moment before kicking it off, then wandered off. Searching for Anderson so that she could steal his coffee cup.

[Veer off]
Remove Anderson from his current course. The last time he attempted this he sailed directly into a Mirror Sea and had to fight for every ship in his task group. But he succeeded.

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!

—

"Veer off," I walk through the door at the back of the bridge into the chart room, several officers were bent over desks faintly illuminated. Revealing maps of the Atlantic and the various coasts around. My eyes shift across the room for a moment befor-

"Lieutenant Becker,"

A scared looking teenager looks back at me. He blinks for a moment, a pencil held loosely in his hand. He straightens a second later, Annapolis winning over other, basic instincts. "Aye Admiral?"

"Change course, give us a route at least five miles south before heading east again. Anti-Submarine protocols, give us a zag Lieutenant.""

"Aye Admiral."

I then look up to the rest of the room at large. Boys, all of them. "We're going to be just fine gentlemen." Then I turn and step back into the bridge. My eyes meet Leviathan, and I smile thinly. "Leviathan, any lights about the ship?"

"... What?"

"Light, candles, electrics, anything. Any lights that might be visible from outside?"

Leviathan stares at me for a few moments, then closes her eyes. She opens them again a few seconds later. "There were."

"Wonderful, Sebastian," I turn to my XO. "Have a light check on the fleet, we're sailing dark. After that radio transmission go radio silent, we don't know the capability of their submarines."

"Aye Admiral."

Then I look to Leviathan once more. "I'll be relying on you to communicate to your sisters in this Task Group if it is necessary to pass information."

Leviathan bristles. "They are not my sisters."

Walking over to the window I grab my cup of coffee again, and I take a drink from it as I stare into the void that was the Atlantic. Below me, I felt the ship begin to turn. It was soon to be midnight, and it was going to be a long time until the sun rose. "They are right now." I lift the cup to my lips again, only to pause as Leviathan appears by my side. My eyes shift to her, still holding the cup up, an unspoken question from me to her.

"Why Admiral?"

I lower the cup, "you'll need to be a bit more specific than that." Leviathan stares at me, only the faintest traces of her visible in the darkness. One grew used to it, but never entirely. They say sailors used to work entirely in the dark and existed by feel. You, frankly, couldn't imagine.

"We didn't veer off course in the caribbean."

I think about it for a few moments, "it's not something I would normally go with… but it feels right to do so." I then turn my attention to the bow once more. "Lets just hope things go smoothly."

"... You are too calm, Admiral."

I smile, then take another sip of coffee. "Am I?" the ocean was a fascinating thing, it was frequently a dichotomy. On a featureless black night such as this, one could easily relax. Trust in the strength of the ship, and simply wait for time to pass. I had, on many occasions, especially on the Cassin, done exactly that. With or without stars it was easy enough to simply get lost in the motions of the ship moving. And with the weather on the Atlantic being as calm as it is tonight, it is tempting. But now, that darkness held only danger and mystery. Untold things… beasts lurked in the dark, hunting us, and we could do naught but flee. My smile fades, and I stare at Leviathan. "Am I?"

She doesn't respond.

—

Leviathan stands at the bridge wing, the deck was now awash with cacophonous noise. Men shouting to each other, engines roaring. The shipgirl tenses as one roar gets particularly loud, then she watches with rapt attention as a Helldiver lumbers down the deck before lifting lazily into the air, depth charges mounted to its wings. She stares after it, watching it for several moments before her shoulders slump in relief.

Morning light played over the deck, illuminating oil stains like puddles of water after a fresh rain. Men were moving about now, and gone was the stillness of the night. Men ran, tractors pulled planes into positions, and just about every stretch of the catwalk surrounding the vessel had at least one sailor with binoculars scanning the waves.

The night had been a butchery, my task group had been ambushed by german submarin… I blink, then shake my head. No… no, we have escaped the danger without incident. Not so much as a sighting of a submarine last night. Some false… or possibly true but unconfirmed sightings. But no torpedoes were sent out way last night, which was as much a victory as I could hope for. Now the task group was speeding back to rejoin the convoy. It is another two days until we reach the air cover of England, longer if we have to get clever about it. Of course, 'air cover' and 'England' don't really go well together. Seeing as how the German Air Force ruled the skies over that country. "Admiral Stevens," I turn my head to look at Sebastian. "Lieutenant Commander Schreiber is requesting to speak with you."

I watch as another Helldiver flies off the end of the carrying, dipping down slightly beneath the bow before rising into the air. "And he shall have it."

—

The man looks about as ready and eager as I have ever seen him. Normally, it was expected I would call him to me, but I hadn't actually left the bridge in six hours and I will take any excuse I can get. The ready room is as I expected: a madhouse. Men were all over the place, all dressed in their flight uniforms, caps and goggles on their heads as they talked hurriedly amongst themselves. Some make exaggerated arm movements as they discuss flight patterns, positioning… and frankly whatever else it is that pilots talk about when amongst their own company. Ernst is at the back of the room, standing in front of a large blackboard upon which rested a good dozen names, and, atop it, a freshly painted sign. 'Schwarze Ritters'.

"Schreiber." I greet.

"Admiral Stevens," Ernst greets back. He is dressed much the same as the rest of his fellows, though, much like when I had last seen him… he was wearing cowboy boots. "I didn't expect to see you down here."

More than a few pilots were stealing glances my way I note, and, with the same practice I have always had, I ignore them. "You asked for my attention and I wanted off the bridge. How can I help you?"

"I want to slow down our task group." Ernst says bluntly.

I stare at him for a few moments, then. "Pilot training?"

Ernst looks over my shoulder to the pilots, then to me, when he speaks again, his voice is very quiet. "I'm the only one here with combat experience. These men are young Admiral, and none were at Pearl. Chasing submarines hardly counts, not if we're expected to fight the Italian Navy."

I nod my head. It isn't even a decision, it's just something that is necessary. The Italians, and the Germans for that matter have been at war for years now. We've been at war for two months. "Write up a schedule, it'll get done."
"Thank you, sir."

"Thank me by getting results," I reply, then leave him to his work.

—

1500 Hours, February 3rd, The Atlantic.

—

The Helldiver dives, dropping a bag of flour into the water, distantly from the flight deck I hear a cheer, and while I have no idea what he hit, it's apparently that he hit something he is supposed to be hitting. I watch as the plane soars back off into the sky, using the momentum of its dive to gain altitude once more. Sunlight plays off the blue wings, and for a moment I stare transfixed, a young man again watching planes take to the sky. Then I turn my head to look at Leviathan as she approaches me.

"Are we expecting a repeat of last night Admiral?"

"I-" Sebastian… where is Sebastian? I glance back to the bridge, the man was... The man is… right, you had sent him to rest. He is fine… he was fine, yes. "I… we shouldn't… no, they won't be chasing after us, they don't have the speed… I would imagine."

"Admiral, are you alright?"

I nod my head slowly. "I'm fine Leviathan, just tired."

"Not sleeping Sir?"

I smile thinly. "I never sleep, they beat that out of us at the academy."

"Sir?" Leviathan says, the word sounding oddly like a swear.

I wave a hand dismissively. "I'm fine Leviathan, I slept fine. And we don't have much longer to go in any case."

"It's still another two days." Leviathan replies, staring out the bridge windows.

"Not long at all," I reply.

—

1611 Hours, February 5th, The Atlantic.

—

"Sir, signal from the Arizona."

I look over at my signalman. Distantly I could see flashing lights from the Arizona's signal lamp.

He hands me a piece of paper, then returns to his watch.

'Fashionably Late? - Kidd'

Smartass, I help save his ship at Pearl and he makes jokes at my expense. I scribble something onto the back of the paper then hand it to Leviathan. "Signal this back please."

Leviathan stares down at the piece of paper, then looks up at me with a raised brow. "Really, Admiral?"

"If you would be so kind."

Leviathan rolls her eyes and turns to face the Arizona. She is just one of many ships we were meeting up west of Spain. The Battleship Arizona, the Battleship New York, the Battleship Washington, the Battleship North Carolina, the Carrier Wasp, and the Carrier Hornet. And that was just the capital ships nearby, there were others further north, not to mention those sitting about the channel. There are dozens upon dozens of cruisers and destroyers on top of that. It is an armada, and it is very welcome.

The battle is to begin in three hours exactly, my Navy from the west, the British Navy from the east. I, meanwhile, am standing guard west of spain, watching for any nonsense that may be coming up from the south to spoil things.

"Leviathan,"

"Another message, Admiral?" Leviathan asks.

"No. It's about our planes."

The smile dips from Leviathan's face. "Sir?"

I have two carriers at my command, roughly one hundred and fifty planes ready to go. Which is further split into thirds between fighters, dive bombers, and torpedo bombers. It was a sizable force, the question is, how to best use it. My group was to be the further south, with Kidd and his task group available to support as needed. I am, bluntly, a sentry. To warn the fleet of any oncoming attacks. So the question is, simply, how to best use my airgroup.

I can send them south, searching for any forces coming up north to join the battle the Germans have to know is coming by this point. Though that will leave my group with naught but its guns for defence if we are hit by a sirenic ambush… or planes from Spain. Though that latter possibility was something I am not concerned about, as Spain and Portugal, have both been staunchly neutral, so far.

The other option is to simply huddle up, keep my planes here, ready to respond to threats as they come. I won't be as forewarned of approaching danger, but any siren shenanigans will be easier to manage. Sirens have a nasty habit of attacking from literally anywhere they wish, either through their strange 'Mirror Seas', alternate… realities, I believe I've heard them termed where they can turn any engagement into a knife fight wherever they wish, or by submersible surface vessels.

Either option has merit, and now, now I need to choose one. As I don't have the forces to do both, there was simply too much ocean to cover.

—

[] [Send my airgroup south, search for any forces coming up north to join the battle the Germans know is coming]

[] [Keep his airgroup close, watching out for sirenic activity and submarines]