Non-canon-ish Omake: Eurobotes!
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
In unrelated news...Eurobotes. Like I said, until Abyssko shows up, these are going to be interconnected snips...but not advancing the main, Hood v. Princess plot thread.
Fire and smoke filled the sky, the thunderous roar of anti-aircraft fire echoing over the sounds of battle. Quick-firing 4.5-inch guns were joined by the harsher rattle of forty-millimeter Bofors. The rough clap of American five-inch guns overtook the pop-pop of British pom-poms. Tracers and flak explosions blew aside clouds, turning the sky into a wave of death that almost nothing could hope to survive. A fusillade of destruction.
And yet, HMS Victorious couldn't tear her eyes away from the sky.
"Courageous..." a small whisper escaped her lips, even as her anti-aircraft guns roared.
Why? Wasn't it enough to take...
"Hey, focus over there!"
Victorious snapped to attention on instinct, despite the childish tone of the voice. Brown eyes flashed away from the sky, instead focusing on the lithe form of a Fletcher-class destroyer by her side. USS Walker, assigned as her personal guard for this mission.
A little girl, barely into her teens. But one with a bullish look on her face, as her five-inch rifles spewed fire into the air.
"We need you focusing, Vicky!" Walker continued, turning in a slow circle around the carrier, joining her fellow Americans in covering the Brit. "Keep those planes busy!"
Despite twitching at the nickname, Victorious nodded. Her hand clenched by her side, but she fought down the urge to swing it at something. She hadn't been able to pay attention since this attack started...concurrent with the assault by that monster wearing her dearest friend's skin. The Abyssals were serious about breaking the Atlantic, be it by destroying the oil supply or sinking the convoys supplying the British and the rest of Europe with much needed material resources.
And so long as that was a threat, the Royal Navy was going to be fighting.
Even be it against Abyssals that made a mockery of them.
"Blue Squadron, have you found the carrier?" Victorious barked out, more for the benefit of her American counterparts than her own.
Same with the name of the squadron. Simplicity.
"Not yet! She vanished in that fog bank!"
The harried reply came from the pilot of Victorious' Avenger squadron lead, far away and safely hidden in clouds.
It had the armored carrier biting her lip, swinging hard to port as her 4.5-inchers blasted away at the sky. Flame marked the wing of a Barracuda, the ungainly monstrosity of a bomber spinning out of control. Pieces of black armor fell away, smoke dark as night flying from the doomed bomber. The Abyssal, knowing it was doomed, tried to turn to crash into a transport, like...
Kamikaze!
Flashes of flames and screaming men ran through her mind.
"No...no no no no..."
It was just like Formidable. Her sister had never recovered. She still bore the wounds of those hits, even now.
Victorious didn't want to see that happen again.
Never again.
Gritting her teeth, the carrier held a hand to the side of her head. Her eyes clenched shut, communication lines opening up. Desperate words exchanged...
And heard.
"Tally ho!"
Far above the battle, in the span of what truly amounted to no more than thirty seconds, two fighters heard the call. Gull-wings turned in a steep dive, powerful radial engine blasting smoke away from the long nose of the fighters. Proudly marked with the roundel of the Fleet Air Arm, the F4U Corsairs nosed over and roared down on the careening Abyssal.
The pilots knew the Barracuda well. And that meant they knew the weaknesses of the Barracuda.
Sharp rattles of fifty-caliber fire came to life, bright tracers flashing forth from the huge wings of the Corsairs, intersecting perfectly with the flight-path of the Abyssal bomber. Pieces of chitinous armor fell away from the mockery of a Fairey warplane, until a bullet found the bomb nestled beneath its fuselage.
All it took was one.
A massive explosion blew through the sky, pieces of bomber falling down on the wildly maneuvering fleet. When sixteen-hundred pounds of high-explosive detonated, it was heard. But...
Far better in the air, than inside a transport.
Beneath the debris, Victorious grimaced slightly. Her fighters peeled away, disappearing back into the clouds as they lurked like the birds of prey they so closely resembled. That bitch was learning just why the British used the Corsair during the war. Just why the Japanese called it 'Whistling Death'. The lumbering Barracudas never stood a chance.
If only that was all they had...
Victorious continued her turn to port, intending to dodge the lurking planes in the air. That monster couldn't carry many. But even one lucky hit could sink any ship, and she had no intention of it being her to take the hit.
"Blue Lead," Victorious keyed her radio once again, brown eyes scanning for Abyssal planes diving to attack. "Have you found it?"
Whatever was said in reply was drowned out by the sudden roar of a full broadside by multiple destroyers. Victorious clapped hands to her ears, ringing with the fury of five-inch gunfire. Her eyes snapped onto Walker and her sister, the two Fletchers ducking and weaving through the British formation. HMS Cossack tried to keep pace, but the Tribal could barely keep pace with the excitable Fletchers.
Especially when they had fired on two Barracudas that had come out of the fog bank that hid their mothership.
Walker twisted her head around for a split second, nodding fiercely at Victorious, "Stay back Vicky, let us handle this!"
Nothing more was said, the little destroyer spinning back around, a ferocious wake kicked up by her screws as she took up defensive formation. There was the view of her hull, turning to present a full-broadside of anti-air at the Abyssals.
But there was also the view of a large, barely-teenage, girl. Flinging her arms wide, daring anyone to move past her.
"Bloody hell, the Yanks are all the same," Victorious muttered under her breath, as she turned again, trying to present the smallest possible target to the Abyssals. But a smile was on her face, nonetheless.
All the same...and all too protective.
Even while her own guns continued to spew tracers into the air, Victorious didn't feel like she entirely needed to fire.
Despite all the fire in the air, and despite the Barracudas- twisted and burned beyond all recognition -lurching over the water towards her...she didn't feel fear. She felt completely and perfectly safe. Her fondest memories were serving with American ships. And that had never changed.
"Thatcher, don't let them get to Vicky!" Walker barked out, looking over at her sister. A feral grin had crossed the younger destroyer's face, when she trained her guns on the Abyssals.
"Got it." Thatcher was more subdued, but the same grin was on her own face. Both destroyers turned their guns to bear on the bombers.
Dark black planes, that almost hurt to look at. Light reflected off chitinous armor, coating the already bulky and somewhat ugly Fairey design. They looked less like planes, and more like demons swooping down on the destroyers.
But then, what were 'demons' to the real horrors of the desperate Kamikazes?
"Fire!" Walker belted out, her entire side erupting in flame as every single gun she had on her port fired on the Abyssals.
Beside her, Thatcher did much the same, the two destroyers practically vanishing behind a wall of smoke. And yet, that was nothing on what the Abyssals felt. Dark bursts of flak smoke erupted all around them, surrounding the planes with shrapnel and smoke. The Barracudas broke apart, one moving to port and the other to starboard in an attempt to split the fire of the destroyers.
The Abyssal pilots, if the planes even had pilots, spun and weaved through the hellacious fire surrounding them. The fury of American anti-aircraft fire, focused on just two targets. Both Barracudas were maneuvering with the skill of ace pilots. Flaps opened and closed quickly. The large rudders of the bombers turned them through the fusillade of flak.
But even the best pilot could make mistakes.
"Got one!"
And as Walker crowed out her victory, the first Barracuda fell. Proximity fuzed shells burst over the port wing, pieces of metal shooting down through the tough hide of the Abyssal bomber. The slivers of steel cut clean through the frame of the bomber, blowing the wing in two with a flash of burning aviation fuel. At the low altitude it had descended to, the Abyssal could never hope to recover.
The burning bomber smashed into the water, cartwheeling and shedding parts until it vanished beneath the water, naught but a slick of oily water to mark it's impact.
Its counterpart did not even have that. A shell from one of the destroyers, no one sure which, impacted square in the center of the Abyssal bomber. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left at all. Not even a slick.
Victorious watched it all, smiling slightly, "I knew they could do it..."
A smile that turned distinctly predatory as the sun gleamed off her helmet. No more bombers were in sight, or on her powerful radar. And her own Avengers?
"Bloody hell, we found it! Beginning attack run now!"
Well, they had found their target. A twisted HMS Courageous...defenseless against Corsairs and Avengers she had never been designed to fight, her escorts shorn to cover the other action in this battle...
Come on...
"...finish them off, Warspite!"
With Victorious' voice echoing in her ears, Warspite turned her bow slightly to starboard. Her brown hair hung in front of her eyes, stained red with oily blood. Her 'castle' of a bridge was a tempting target to Abyssal fire, riddled with shell-holes. Her head pounded something fierce, but violet eyes remained focused on her target.
Even as an almighty clang echoed over the battlefield, twelve-inch shells careening into the sea by her side. A side now bruised and dented...but holding. Warspite grimaced, but didn't slow down. The Grand Old Lady had been through more fire than this before, and she wouldn't turn off now. This was nothing on charging down the gullet of the High Seas Fleet.
Come on ya wankers, show me what you've got!
The old fighting spirit of a dreadnought was with her. Her old turrets fired with the fury of British engineering, fifteen-inch shells lancing out at the Abyssal formation.
A formation that had scattered, individual ships firing individually. If there was any commander of the Abyssals, it wasn't a good one. The ships broke apart from a proper line, and tried to return fire alone. This only left them vulnerable to the much more concentrated return fire of the British line, as an unfortunate cruiser discovered. Three shells from Warspite and two from the more distant Repulse hit her directly admidships.
The ship didn't so much shudder, as vanish, her center vaporized.
"Right in one, Grand Old Lady!" Repulse crowed from her position at the back of the British line, safely covered from firepower that would go through her thin armor.
"Indeed," Warspite nodded, eyes training away from the cruiser, and back to the main Abyssal formation.
Two battlecruisers, twisted and painful mockeries of Invincible and Princess Royal. A battleship, the Iron Duke wrought of dark and ruined steel. A handful of light cruisers and destroyers, circling like panicked sharks around their flagships. Their dark forms cleaved through the waves, smoke and flame barking forth at Warspite's own escorts, the eclectic mix of American and British light ships returning fire with an equally varied mix of weaponry.
It was a maelstrom of streaking shells and bursting waterspouts, both fleets baring down on the other at a steady twenty knots.
Just like a repeat of Jutland...
But this won't end like that for us.
Warspite continued her turn, unshadowing her aft turrets to fire at the Abyssals. Her guns spoke once more, the angry glint of shells flying through the air at the enemy formation, aiming for the slower battlecruiser.
Perhaps realizing what was rapidly approaching her, the Abyssal slammed its rudder hard to port, choking black smoke pouring from her stacks. The antique warship, older even than Warspite, began to swing around. Her own guns, those that could train on the British, returned fire. If one looked closely enough, the flight paths of the shells almost intersected...
But nothing would stop the fury of fifteen-inch shells. Three of Warspite's shells went wide, splashes of white foam shooting into the air around the Abyssal battlecruiser. Perhaps, if there were anyone on her bridge, they would have breathed a short sigh of relief.
Until the fourth and final shell slammed directly into the Abyssal's fore turret. Armor never meant to withstand such a large shell crumpled, shattered plates flashing away from the monster. Warspite's projectile buried itself deeply inside the Abyssal's innerworkings, before detonating in a massive fireball. The entire turret arrangement flew into the air, pieces of hull joining it in splashing into the water some distance away from the Abyssal.
Twisted hull shuddering mightily, the battlecruiser soon crawled to a halt, flames raging uncontrollably across her bow. Not sunk, but crippled until- and unless -those flames could be put out.
"One down, two to go!" Warspite called out, twisting her uncooperative rudder around to present a smaller target to the angry return fire from the Abyssals, intent on sinking her. "Repulse, focus fire on the battleship!"
"Roger!" Came the reply, as Repulse's three turrets barked to life, flinging the same shells as Warspite down range.
Nodding at that, the battleship turned her head to the destroyers and cruisers on her flanks. Lead by Emerald, those girls had performed their duty as escorts admirably. But now?
Now it was time to hunt.
"Emerald, I want a torpedo run on the Abyssals. See if you can't hit one of them," Warspite's upper-class voice echoed over the water. The husky tone entirely unlike when she was ashore, violet eyes gleaming in the bright sunlight, "Also, if you would please be a dear and take care of those cruisers?"
Emerald flashed a salute, her hand vanishing in her bright green hair as the cruiser spun up her turbines to full power, "Understood, ma'am! Follow me girls!"
The old cruiser sped ahead of the battleship, quickly leaving the 'first fast battleship' in the dust, the mix of Clemsons and V-class destroyers antiques in their own right. But even antiques can have a bite, as the ships began rippling off shells at the Abyssals. Emerald remained in the lead, her six-inch rifles pounding away at an Abyssal destroyer.
Pitch black plates of steel were hammered in and blasted away, the small escort ship completely unable to stand up to even a light cruiser. The twisted monster wearing the skin of an Italian destroyer shuddered under Emerald's accurate barrages, her hull crumpling with each successive hit. Armor that had never been intended to even stand against destroyer guns was broken and torn asunder by Emerald's guns, the Abyssal breaking in two after a mere two salvos.
And while Emerald put the destroyer down, her little destroyer escorts turned their own weapons on the Abyssal cruisers. Four-inch shellfire pounded into the upper-works and superstructure of the Abyssals, setting the bridges ablaze. Some poured from the shell-impacts, the cruisers returning fire with their own six-inch guns. Scattered fire that flew wide around the wildly maneuvering destroyers, fire-control systems ruined and unable to get an accurate bead on the girls.
One of which, HMS Campbeltown, cackling madly when an Abyssal shell landed off her port bow. Sprays of water shot into the air, soaking back her shoulder length black hair.
But only serving to make her laugh harder.
"Come on, is that all ya got?!" The formerly American destroyer taunted, her single fore gun firing in defiance of the Abyssal cruisers. "The Jerries were tougher than this!"
"Campbeltown, don't ram them!" Emerald's voice called out, more bemused than anything. Her own single turrets raked along the superstructure of the distant Abyssal battleship, cratering her tough upperworks.
Rolling her eyes, the hot-headed destroyer turned slightly, presenting a broadside of hastily refitted torpedoes that she let loose towards the much closer form of the intact battlecruiser. "Don't worry, I ain't stupid!"
Emerald just rolled her own eyes, continuing to lead the destroyers in a charge directly down the throat of the Abyssal escorts, tangling with them and keeping the fire off Warspite and Repulse.
One battlecruiser down...
The former of which couldn't help a small wince, when the raging fires aboard the battlecruiser she crippled reached the powder magazines. It wasn't Invincible...
But it still hurt to be reminded of Jutland once again, a battlecruiser blown apart by her own magazines.
...and one to go. Repulse...
Warspite turned her hull, crossing the T of the distant battlecruiser. The mockery of Princess Royal matched the move, presenting her smaller guns to fire on Warspite. The battleship narrowed her violet eyes at that, well-aware of the power- and limitations -of those guns. The Abyssal had less range and less punch. And to unshadow her badly placed third turret properly, she had to expose much more of her hull.
"Come on...keep sailing just like that." Warspite muttered, her fingers itching to fire.
Repulse had no such restraint, her own rifles barking out their anger at the Abyssal battleship. The twisted Duke shuddered under hits from weaponry a generation past her, but she held together.
For now.
At any rate, Warspite had her own issues to worry about. With the fury of a monster, the Abyssal battlecruiser let loose a staggered volley of her 13.5-inch guns. Thick black smoke poured over the hull of the warship, soon joined by what secondaries she could bring to bear, those firing on Emerald. The cruiser was forced back from her own position, while Warspite let a small, smug smirk cross her lips.
Have you now, wanker.
Her crew snapped her rudders to starboard, swinging her lean bow around. It was a painfully slow turn, one that could never completely avoid the Abyssal fire.
It didn't need to.
"Fire!" Warspite shouted with all the power of the Grand Old Lady of the Royal Navy in her voice. As her bow continued to slew to starboard, her powerful main guns returned the favor at the Abyssal.
Her smug smirk remained firmly in place, even as Warspite felt the fire from the Abyssal impact her hull. Two shells carved long gashes in her belt armor, barely held back from penetrating. A third smashed clean through her overly-large bridge, leaving a gaping hull through it...and a bloody gash across the battleship's face. But her own return fire was much, much more damaging.
The Abyssal, only now realizing her mistake, entered into a turn of her own. And while she was more agile than the lumbering Warspite, it was too little, far too late. Four of Warspite's shells slammed into the battlecruiser, smashing through her thin armor. One blasted apart the Abyssal's X-turret, sending shrapnel and smoke into the air as the barrels of that turret fell down atop her deck.
Another shell burst through the stern superstructure of the battlecruiser, shattering it in a spray of fire.
The final two were the true nail in her monstrous coffin, however. One cleaved clean through the thin belt surrounding the Abyssal's delicate internals, blowing apart boilers and turbines. Angry white smoke began pouring from her stacks, the sign of a ruined powerplant. The Abyssal began to slow down, the death knell for any battlecruiser.
But the dream of Jackie Fisher would prove unfulfilled before that became any sort of issue.
"Great shot Warspite!"
For as Repulse shouted at her flagship, the final shell did its duty. The battlecruiser shuddered violently, Warspite's last hit having dug into her powder magazines. No matter how well-protected these spaces were, nothing could withstand a fifteen-inch shell blowing apart in close proximity. Flame and debris shot into the sky, a thunderclap of destruction echoing across the water. Pieces of Abyssal hull fell down atop the dancing escorts, a piece of a turret nearly flattening Campbeltown.
The Abyssal? The detonation of her magazines was her death-knell, as surely has it had been for Hood and the others before her. The smoke pouring into the sky only served to obscure a ship held together by nothing but her keel, quickly listing to port. No return fire came from the ship. No survivors leaped into the water.
Just sickly black oil, spreading around a burning wreck.
We got them...Vicky got the carrier too...
Warspite let out a small sigh, securing her rifles as her shaky hand tried to staunch the bleeding across her forehead. Her braid was completely undone, brown hair fluttering in the wind. Violet eyes scanned the area, the few surviving Abyssals set-upon by the British escorts. Emerald was an able formation leader, her little troupe savaging the fleeing cruisers and destroyers.
Not one would escape this day.
As for the last Abyssal capital ship?
While Repulse's fire had hurt her, it would be an infamously unreliable American torpedo that killed her. A ship never designed to take such a hit was unable to resit the rapid detonations of four torpedoes, shattering her torpedo bulkheads and blasting apart her underside. Water poured in through massive rents and tears in her hull, leaving the battleship to slowly turn over and sink, much as Barham had once done.
The Abyssals lost this battle, as surely as they would lose in the Gulf, soon enough.
Of course, this was not originally intended as just the battle.
The next bit is meant to be connected, but for now, this is in the same situation as SMS Pringles is. Available for use, potentially can happen-with-adjustments...but hasn't happened yet. Could happen later, though.
And there's that. Like I said, same boat as SMS Pringles. Though with her, it's just because I haven't figured out how to use her quite yet. With this, it's a matter of waiting until/if JMP decides to use it. I've got it here, and it is about how I see this going. But it's still in that preview-if-used stage.
Also, I didn't make up the bit in the middle.
Fire and smoke filled the sky, the thunderous roar of anti-aircraft fire echoing over the sounds of battle. Quick-firing 4.5-inch guns were joined by the harsher rattle of forty-millimeter Bofors. The rough clap of American five-inch guns overtook the pop-pop of British pom-poms. Tracers and flak explosions blew aside clouds, turning the sky into a wave of death that almost nothing could hope to survive. A fusillade of destruction.
And yet, HMS Victorious couldn't tear her eyes away from the sky.
"Courageous..." a small whisper escaped her lips, even as her anti-aircraft guns roared.
Why? Wasn't it enough to take...
"Hey, focus over there!"
Victorious snapped to attention on instinct, despite the childish tone of the voice. Brown eyes flashed away from the sky, instead focusing on the lithe form of a Fletcher-class destroyer by her side. USS Walker, assigned as her personal guard for this mission.
A little girl, barely into her teens. But one with a bullish look on her face, as her five-inch rifles spewed fire into the air.
"We need you focusing, Vicky!" Walker continued, turning in a slow circle around the carrier, joining her fellow Americans in covering the Brit. "Keep those planes busy!"
Despite twitching at the nickname, Victorious nodded. Her hand clenched by her side, but she fought down the urge to swing it at something. She hadn't been able to pay attention since this attack started...concurrent with the assault by that monster wearing her dearest friend's skin. The Abyssals were serious about breaking the Atlantic, be it by destroying the oil supply or sinking the convoys supplying the British and the rest of Europe with much needed material resources.
And so long as that was a threat, the Royal Navy was going to be fighting.
Even be it against Abyssals that made a mockery of them.
"Blue Squadron, have you found the carrier?" Victorious barked out, more for the benefit of her American counterparts than her own.
Same with the name of the squadron. Simplicity.
"Not yet! She vanished in that fog bank!"
The harried reply came from the pilot of Victorious' Avenger squadron lead, far away and safely hidden in clouds.
It had the armored carrier biting her lip, swinging hard to port as her 4.5-inchers blasted away at the sky. Flame marked the wing of a Barracuda, the ungainly monstrosity of a bomber spinning out of control. Pieces of black armor fell away, smoke dark as night flying from the doomed bomber. The Abyssal, knowing it was doomed, tried to turn to crash into a transport, like...
Kamikaze!
Flashes of flames and screaming men ran through her mind.
"No...no no no no..."
It was just like Formidable. Her sister had never recovered. She still bore the wounds of those hits, even now.
Victorious didn't want to see that happen again.
Never again.
Gritting her teeth, the carrier held a hand to the side of her head. Her eyes clenched shut, communication lines opening up. Desperate words exchanged...
And heard.
"Tally ho!"
Far above the battle, in the span of what truly amounted to no more than thirty seconds, two fighters heard the call. Gull-wings turned in a steep dive, powerful radial engine blasting smoke away from the long nose of the fighters. Proudly marked with the roundel of the Fleet Air Arm, the F4U Corsairs nosed over and roared down on the careening Abyssal.
The pilots knew the Barracuda well. And that meant they knew the weaknesses of the Barracuda.
Sharp rattles of fifty-caliber fire came to life, bright tracers flashing forth from the huge wings of the Corsairs, intersecting perfectly with the flight-path of the Abyssal bomber. Pieces of chitinous armor fell away from the mockery of a Fairey warplane, until a bullet found the bomb nestled beneath its fuselage.
All it took was one.
A massive explosion blew through the sky, pieces of bomber falling down on the wildly maneuvering fleet. When sixteen-hundred pounds of high-explosive detonated, it was heard. But...
Far better in the air, than inside a transport.
Beneath the debris, Victorious grimaced slightly. Her fighters peeled away, disappearing back into the clouds as they lurked like the birds of prey they so closely resembled. That bitch was learning just why the British used the Corsair during the war. Just why the Japanese called it 'Whistling Death'. The lumbering Barracudas never stood a chance.
If only that was all they had...
Victorious continued her turn to port, intending to dodge the lurking planes in the air. That monster couldn't carry many. But even one lucky hit could sink any ship, and she had no intention of it being her to take the hit.
"Blue Lead," Victorious keyed her radio once again, brown eyes scanning for Abyssal planes diving to attack. "Have you found it?"
Whatever was said in reply was drowned out by the sudden roar of a full broadside by multiple destroyers. Victorious clapped hands to her ears, ringing with the fury of five-inch gunfire. Her eyes snapped onto Walker and her sister, the two Fletchers ducking and weaving through the British formation. HMS Cossack tried to keep pace, but the Tribal could barely keep pace with the excitable Fletchers.
Especially when they had fired on two Barracudas that had come out of the fog bank that hid their mothership.
Walker twisted her head around for a split second, nodding fiercely at Victorious, "Stay back Vicky, let us handle this!"
Nothing more was said, the little destroyer spinning back around, a ferocious wake kicked up by her screws as she took up defensive formation. There was the view of her hull, turning to present a full-broadside of anti-air at the Abyssals.
But there was also the view of a large, barely-teenage, girl. Flinging her arms wide, daring anyone to move past her.
"Bloody hell, the Yanks are all the same," Victorious muttered under her breath, as she turned again, trying to present the smallest possible target to the Abyssals. But a smile was on her face, nonetheless.
All the same...and all too protective.
Even while her own guns continued to spew tracers into the air, Victorious didn't feel like she entirely needed to fire.
Despite all the fire in the air, and despite the Barracudas- twisted and burned beyond all recognition -lurching over the water towards her...she didn't feel fear. She felt completely and perfectly safe. Her fondest memories were serving with American ships. And that had never changed.
"Thatcher, don't let them get to Vicky!" Walker barked out, looking over at her sister. A feral grin had crossed the younger destroyer's face, when she trained her guns on the Abyssals.
"Got it." Thatcher was more subdued, but the same grin was on her own face. Both destroyers turned their guns to bear on the bombers.
Dark black planes, that almost hurt to look at. Light reflected off chitinous armor, coating the already bulky and somewhat ugly Fairey design. They looked less like planes, and more like demons swooping down on the destroyers.
But then, what were 'demons' to the real horrors of the desperate Kamikazes?
"Fire!" Walker belted out, her entire side erupting in flame as every single gun she had on her port fired on the Abyssals.
Beside her, Thatcher did much the same, the two destroyers practically vanishing behind a wall of smoke. And yet, that was nothing on what the Abyssals felt. Dark bursts of flak smoke erupted all around them, surrounding the planes with shrapnel and smoke. The Barracudas broke apart, one moving to port and the other to starboard in an attempt to split the fire of the destroyers.
The Abyssal pilots, if the planes even had pilots, spun and weaved through the hellacious fire surrounding them. The fury of American anti-aircraft fire, focused on just two targets. Both Barracudas were maneuvering with the skill of ace pilots. Flaps opened and closed quickly. The large rudders of the bombers turned them through the fusillade of flak.
But even the best pilot could make mistakes.
"Got one!"
And as Walker crowed out her victory, the first Barracuda fell. Proximity fuzed shells burst over the port wing, pieces of metal shooting down through the tough hide of the Abyssal bomber. The slivers of steel cut clean through the frame of the bomber, blowing the wing in two with a flash of burning aviation fuel. At the low altitude it had descended to, the Abyssal could never hope to recover.
The burning bomber smashed into the water, cartwheeling and shedding parts until it vanished beneath the water, naught but a slick of oily water to mark it's impact.
Its counterpart did not even have that. A shell from one of the destroyers, no one sure which, impacted square in the center of the Abyssal bomber. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left at all. Not even a slick.
Victorious watched it all, smiling slightly, "I knew they could do it..."
A smile that turned distinctly predatory as the sun gleamed off her helmet. No more bombers were in sight, or on her powerful radar. And her own Avengers?
"Bloody hell, we found it! Beginning attack run now!"
Well, they had found their target. A twisted HMS Courageous...defenseless against Corsairs and Avengers she had never been designed to fight, her escorts shorn to cover the other action in this battle...
Come on...
"...finish them off, Warspite!"
With Victorious' voice echoing in her ears, Warspite turned her bow slightly to starboard. Her brown hair hung in front of her eyes, stained red with oily blood. Her 'castle' of a bridge was a tempting target to Abyssal fire, riddled with shell-holes. Her head pounded something fierce, but violet eyes remained focused on her target.
Even as an almighty clang echoed over the battlefield, twelve-inch shells careening into the sea by her side. A side now bruised and dented...but holding. Warspite grimaced, but didn't slow down. The Grand Old Lady had been through more fire than this before, and she wouldn't turn off now. This was nothing on charging down the gullet of the High Seas Fleet.
Come on ya wankers, show me what you've got!
The old fighting spirit of a dreadnought was with her. Her old turrets fired with the fury of British engineering, fifteen-inch shells lancing out at the Abyssal formation.
A formation that had scattered, individual ships firing individually. If there was any commander of the Abyssals, it wasn't a good one. The ships broke apart from a proper line, and tried to return fire alone. This only left them vulnerable to the much more concentrated return fire of the British line, as an unfortunate cruiser discovered. Three shells from Warspite and two from the more distant Repulse hit her directly admidships.
The ship didn't so much shudder, as vanish, her center vaporized.
"Right in one, Grand Old Lady!" Repulse crowed from her position at the back of the British line, safely covered from firepower that would go through her thin armor.
"Indeed," Warspite nodded, eyes training away from the cruiser, and back to the main Abyssal formation.
Two battlecruisers, twisted and painful mockeries of Invincible and Princess Royal. A battleship, the Iron Duke wrought of dark and ruined steel. A handful of light cruisers and destroyers, circling like panicked sharks around their flagships. Their dark forms cleaved through the waves, smoke and flame barking forth at Warspite's own escorts, the eclectic mix of American and British light ships returning fire with an equally varied mix of weaponry.
It was a maelstrom of streaking shells and bursting waterspouts, both fleets baring down on the other at a steady twenty knots.
Just like a repeat of Jutland...
But this won't end like that for us.
Warspite continued her turn, unshadowing her aft turrets to fire at the Abyssals. Her guns spoke once more, the angry glint of shells flying through the air at the enemy formation, aiming for the slower battlecruiser.
Perhaps realizing what was rapidly approaching her, the Abyssal slammed its rudder hard to port, choking black smoke pouring from her stacks. The antique warship, older even than Warspite, began to swing around. Her own guns, those that could train on the British, returned fire. If one looked closely enough, the flight paths of the shells almost intersected...
But nothing would stop the fury of fifteen-inch shells. Three of Warspite's shells went wide, splashes of white foam shooting into the air around the Abyssal battlecruiser. Perhaps, if there were anyone on her bridge, they would have breathed a short sigh of relief.
Until the fourth and final shell slammed directly into the Abyssal's fore turret. Armor never meant to withstand such a large shell crumpled, shattered plates flashing away from the monster. Warspite's projectile buried itself deeply inside the Abyssal's innerworkings, before detonating in a massive fireball. The entire turret arrangement flew into the air, pieces of hull joining it in splashing into the water some distance away from the Abyssal.
Twisted hull shuddering mightily, the battlecruiser soon crawled to a halt, flames raging uncontrollably across her bow. Not sunk, but crippled until- and unless -those flames could be put out.
"One down, two to go!" Warspite called out, twisting her uncooperative rudder around to present a smaller target to the angry return fire from the Abyssals, intent on sinking her. "Repulse, focus fire on the battleship!"
"Roger!" Came the reply, as Repulse's three turrets barked to life, flinging the same shells as Warspite down range.
Nodding at that, the battleship turned her head to the destroyers and cruisers on her flanks. Lead by Emerald, those girls had performed their duty as escorts admirably. But now?
Now it was time to hunt.
"Emerald, I want a torpedo run on the Abyssals. See if you can't hit one of them," Warspite's upper-class voice echoed over the water. The husky tone entirely unlike when she was ashore, violet eyes gleaming in the bright sunlight, "Also, if you would please be a dear and take care of those cruisers?"
Emerald flashed a salute, her hand vanishing in her bright green hair as the cruiser spun up her turbines to full power, "Understood, ma'am! Follow me girls!"
The old cruiser sped ahead of the battleship, quickly leaving the 'first fast battleship' in the dust, the mix of Clemsons and V-class destroyers antiques in their own right. But even antiques can have a bite, as the ships began rippling off shells at the Abyssals. Emerald remained in the lead, her six-inch rifles pounding away at an Abyssal destroyer.
Pitch black plates of steel were hammered in and blasted away, the small escort ship completely unable to stand up to even a light cruiser. The twisted monster wearing the skin of an Italian destroyer shuddered under Emerald's accurate barrages, her hull crumpling with each successive hit. Armor that had never been intended to even stand against destroyer guns was broken and torn asunder by Emerald's guns, the Abyssal breaking in two after a mere two salvos.
And while Emerald put the destroyer down, her little destroyer escorts turned their own weapons on the Abyssal cruisers. Four-inch shellfire pounded into the upper-works and superstructure of the Abyssals, setting the bridges ablaze. Some poured from the shell-impacts, the cruisers returning fire with their own six-inch guns. Scattered fire that flew wide around the wildly maneuvering destroyers, fire-control systems ruined and unable to get an accurate bead on the girls.
One of which, HMS Campbeltown, cackling madly when an Abyssal shell landed off her port bow. Sprays of water shot into the air, soaking back her shoulder length black hair.
But only serving to make her laugh harder.
"Come on, is that all ya got?!" The formerly American destroyer taunted, her single fore gun firing in defiance of the Abyssal cruisers. "The Jerries were tougher than this!"
"Campbeltown, don't ram them!" Emerald's voice called out, more bemused than anything. Her own single turrets raked along the superstructure of the distant Abyssal battleship, cratering her tough upperworks.
Rolling her eyes, the hot-headed destroyer turned slightly, presenting a broadside of hastily refitted torpedoes that she let loose towards the much closer form of the intact battlecruiser. "Don't worry, I ain't stupid!"
Emerald just rolled her own eyes, continuing to lead the destroyers in a charge directly down the throat of the Abyssal escorts, tangling with them and keeping the fire off Warspite and Repulse.
One battlecruiser down...
The former of which couldn't help a small wince, when the raging fires aboard the battlecruiser she crippled reached the powder magazines. It wasn't Invincible...
But it still hurt to be reminded of Jutland once again, a battlecruiser blown apart by her own magazines.
...and one to go. Repulse...
Warspite turned her hull, crossing the T of the distant battlecruiser. The mockery of Princess Royal matched the move, presenting her smaller guns to fire on Warspite. The battleship narrowed her violet eyes at that, well-aware of the power- and limitations -of those guns. The Abyssal had less range and less punch. And to unshadow her badly placed third turret properly, she had to expose much more of her hull.
"Come on...keep sailing just like that." Warspite muttered, her fingers itching to fire.
Repulse had no such restraint, her own rifles barking out their anger at the Abyssal battleship. The twisted Duke shuddered under hits from weaponry a generation past her, but she held together.
For now.
At any rate, Warspite had her own issues to worry about. With the fury of a monster, the Abyssal battlecruiser let loose a staggered volley of her 13.5-inch guns. Thick black smoke poured over the hull of the warship, soon joined by what secondaries she could bring to bear, those firing on Emerald. The cruiser was forced back from her own position, while Warspite let a small, smug smirk cross her lips.
Have you now, wanker.
Her crew snapped her rudders to starboard, swinging her lean bow around. It was a painfully slow turn, one that could never completely avoid the Abyssal fire.
It didn't need to.
"Fire!" Warspite shouted with all the power of the Grand Old Lady of the Royal Navy in her voice. As her bow continued to slew to starboard, her powerful main guns returned the favor at the Abyssal.
Her smug smirk remained firmly in place, even as Warspite felt the fire from the Abyssal impact her hull. Two shells carved long gashes in her belt armor, barely held back from penetrating. A third smashed clean through her overly-large bridge, leaving a gaping hull through it...and a bloody gash across the battleship's face. But her own return fire was much, much more damaging.
The Abyssal, only now realizing her mistake, entered into a turn of her own. And while she was more agile than the lumbering Warspite, it was too little, far too late. Four of Warspite's shells slammed into the battlecruiser, smashing through her thin armor. One blasted apart the Abyssal's X-turret, sending shrapnel and smoke into the air as the barrels of that turret fell down atop her deck.
Another shell burst through the stern superstructure of the battlecruiser, shattering it in a spray of fire.
The final two were the true nail in her monstrous coffin, however. One cleaved clean through the thin belt surrounding the Abyssal's delicate internals, blowing apart boilers and turbines. Angry white smoke began pouring from her stacks, the sign of a ruined powerplant. The Abyssal began to slow down, the death knell for any battlecruiser.
But the dream of Jackie Fisher would prove unfulfilled before that became any sort of issue.
"Great shot Warspite!"
For as Repulse shouted at her flagship, the final shell did its duty. The battlecruiser shuddered violently, Warspite's last hit having dug into her powder magazines. No matter how well-protected these spaces were, nothing could withstand a fifteen-inch shell blowing apart in close proximity. Flame and debris shot into the sky, a thunderclap of destruction echoing across the water. Pieces of Abyssal hull fell down atop the dancing escorts, a piece of a turret nearly flattening Campbeltown.
The Abyssal? The detonation of her magazines was her death-knell, as surely has it had been for Hood and the others before her. The smoke pouring into the sky only served to obscure a ship held together by nothing but her keel, quickly listing to port. No return fire came from the ship. No survivors leaped into the water.
Just sickly black oil, spreading around a burning wreck.
We got them...Vicky got the carrier too...
Warspite let out a small sigh, securing her rifles as her shaky hand tried to staunch the bleeding across her forehead. Her braid was completely undone, brown hair fluttering in the wind. Violet eyes scanned the area, the few surviving Abyssals set-upon by the British escorts. Emerald was an able formation leader, her little troupe savaging the fleeing cruisers and destroyers.
Not one would escape this day.
As for the last Abyssal capital ship?
While Repulse's fire had hurt her, it would be an infamously unreliable American torpedo that killed her. A ship never designed to take such a hit was unable to resit the rapid detonations of four torpedoes, shattering her torpedo bulkheads and blasting apart her underside. Water poured in through massive rents and tears in her hull, leaving the battleship to slowly turn over and sink, much as Barham had once done.
The Abyssals lost this battle, as surely as they would lose in the Gulf, soon enough.
Of course, this was not originally intended as just the battle.
The next bit is meant to be connected, but for now, this is in the same situation as SMS Pringles is. Available for use, potentially can happen-with-adjustments...but hasn't happened yet. Could happen later, though.
Large Cruiser Alaska let out a content sigh, her ungainly limbs cooperating for once in her life as she lay across a couch. 'course, she had left a trail of scattered Lego bricks behind when she had nearly fallen over a few times getting to said couch. But that was just a technicality! Besides, the couch was nice and comfy and who cared if a few stray bricks were laying around. She needed the rest anyway.
Ahh...so comfy...
Another content sigh echoed through the room, Alaska stretching her limbs out like a cat. Her fluffy white hair...well, fluffed...around her, falling all over the couch. She made no moves to move the hair either, just letting it fall every which way. She was too comfy to care.
"Texas was nice," Alaska muttered, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Staring, but not seeing. All she saw was the elegant old dreadnought, who was currently working up to get used to her new body.
Not that she needed much work there, considering what she had done. Sinking that monster and all. Something Alaska herself hadn't been able to do.
Ah well, she'd done the best she could. Not bad for a large cruiser!
But now, as she turned her overly long body to the side, Alaska wondered what would come next. Wisconsin was gone. Texas could probably take her place, but still...where did that leave them? She and 'Tago were ready to head out again, but the Abyssals had proven they could match them in direct combat. And sink what they couldn't match with submarines. What now?
What would 'Tago say?
Even as the thought went through her head, Alaska giggled lightly. Her best friend in the whole world would just give her a bright smile and her typical...
"Pan-paka-pan~"
...that.
Wait.
What?
Pulling herself up, Alaska blinked slowly and confusedly, as her door slammed open. A giggling Atago stood in the doorway, only a bandage across her face to mark the battle they had been through. Her endless cheerfulness was fully intact, for sure. As were her boundless...fuel tanks. Shaking with her giggles.
"'Laska, you need to come with me!" Atago continued to grin and giggle, completely ignoring the scattered Legos when she glided into the room and grabbed the wrist of the larger cruiser.
"Eh?" Alaska blinked again, looking down at Atago pulling her up from the couch. "But...why?"
"Because we're doing a summoning!" Atago replied easily, throwing her arms up even though she was holding one of Alaska's own limbs. "Pan-paka-pan!"
A...summoning? So soon?
Alaska felt more confused than usual, and that was saying something. She let Atago lead her out of the room of course, why not? But she still felt more than a hint of confusion nonetheless.
Her friend always was so eager and didn't always explain things. Certainly not in ways that the confused large cruiser could understand.
"Why are we summoning?" That didn't stop her from asking the question, even while Atago pulled her through the halls. Snowy white hair flew behind the cruiser, her eyes looking at her friend curiously.
Atago looked back over her shoulder, smile bright as ever, "Someone came to the Admiral with a suggestion to try!"
"What?"
A cute frown crossed Alaska's face, wondering what her friend meant. Was it the Professor that Jersey liked?
"That's what I thought!" Atago had no such confusion. Her boundless energy easily announced their walking path, prompting amused looking sailors and marines to move out of the way. "But I think he may be on to something."
On to...what?
Being confused was a universal constant with Alaska. But her friend was hardly helping things with her vague answers and dragging around. Atago got ahead of herself sometimes, she really did!
But what could she do? It was just how 'Tago was. And as she was dragged into the summoning area, Alaska knew that was never going to change. She liked it about her friend though. Atago could make anyone smile no matter the situation. Sure, she kept trying to make the large cruiser take her romantic advice, but that was just Atago being herself.
Like now, when she stopped suddenly, leaving Alaska to face-plant in her very soft upperworks.
'Tago...can't...breathe...
Prying her face free, Alaska spit out a bit of fuzz and looked around. The summoning pool was surprisingly empty, all told. Just herself, Atago, the Admiral, some guards, a man she didn't know...
Wait, was that who her friend was talking about?
"I brought Alaska, Admiral!" Atago cheered, seemingly oblivious to her friend staring at the silent man by the water.
Admiral Raleigh, on the other hand, was not. The man coughed lightly, waving a hand at the large cruiser. "Alaska?"
Startling, the cruiser turned her confused gaze on the old man, blinking slightly, "Admiral?"
"Atago didn't tell you anything, did she?" Raleigh sighed at the expression on the cruiser's face, slowly reaching up to pinch his nose. A long-suffering sigh escaping his lips.
Alaska just tilted her head, looking between the Admiral and her best friend, "No...?"
Another sigh escaped Raleigh's lips, but he was more bemused than really frustrated, "Of course not. Well, I wanted you here for a reason. Mr. Jones over there is planning on trying a summoning asking for a specific ship. And if she does come back, I wanted you here in case there are any...issues."
Issues?
A frown crossed Alaska's face, when she looked between the Admiral and the silent man by the water. What issues could there possibly be? She couldn't think of any ships she knew coming back that would cause an issue. Alaska barely knew a lot of the old navy beyond the usual suspects anyway. Her sister maybe? But Guam wouldn't be any issue...so...
Like a lightbulb going off in her bridge- she was fairly certain her fairy Captain did turn on a light come to think... -Alaska felt it come to her. Ah. It was her they were trying for, wasn't it?
"Ooooohhhh..." the cruiser let out a little noise of understanding, turning fully back to the Admiral. Alaska fluffed her hair a bit, before nodding at her commander. She knew who he was talking about now. "I understand!"
"Do you?" Raleigh asked, perhaps a small tint of disbelief in his tone.
"Hmm!" Alaska just nodded, turning to walk up by the man at the water's edge.
And almost face-planting into said water. Really, she had been doing so well too!
"Hello," oddly, the man didn't show any signs of amusement. He just turned to look at the cruiser struggling to make her limbs cooperate. A single black eyebrow moving over a green eye, set in a pale face.
A face with rings under the eyes, clear exhaustion evident in the look.
"Um...hi."
And of course, Alaska was equally tongue-tied when she looked at him. The man wasn't cute like the boy at the toy store was, but she still had some issues talking to people she didn't know.
Luckily for her, he didn't seem to judge her. "Alaska, right?"
The lack of judging had Alaska smiling brightly when she nodded, "Uh huh!"
And maybe, just maybe, a little smile crossed the man's face as well, "Daniel Jones, nice to meet you. I guess that Admiral Raleigh wanted you here?"
"Hm."
Jones just smiled for real, turning his head back to the water, "I guess I understand why. Can you move over a little bit? I need space to play this..."
Alaska nodded, moving aside to allow the man his space. Space taken a bit by Admiral Raleigh, who moved up to get closer to the action. Alaska blinked at that, but the man gave her a clear 'don't speak right now' look. Or maybe that was just his regular expression...
It was kinda hard to tell sometimes, to be honest...
"Well, Jones, this is your show now."
The young teacher couldn't help but suck in a wary breath, when he looked over at the Admiral. Jones knew what he was doing here, yes, but that didn't make it all that much easier on him. He was good at hiding it...but his hands still shook when he reached over to his briefcase. He still had to suck in a shaky breath when he looked down at his feet. There was something entirely different about thinking or planning, and actually doing something, wasn't there?
Especially doing this.
Even the fact that he had the next best thing to a battlecruiser on his other side didn't do much good. At least Alaska, ditzy as the rumors would lead one to believe, was nice.
"Right..." Jones let out a weak sigh, hands clenching by his side. I know what I'm doing...but...
The thought of it being him calling back one of the ship girls was odd to begin with. He wasn't anything special, not really. Just someone who happened to really care about one ship in particular, and with the revelation of the girls...
Well. He found a reason to actually think about her in a different light.
"Now that we're here, do you mind actually telling me what you plan?" Admiral Raleigh broke in, moving to stand right beside the younger man.
Jones turned his head, a small smile crossing his face at that. "Honestly? I think that the best way to call these girls back is to try appealing to one in specific. At least, I hope so."
"Hm. Go on."
"I know that it didn't really work with New Jersey, but have we actually tried to get anyone in specific back since then?" Jones continued, tilting his head to the side. To his knowledge, there had been no such attempts. "I mean, other than other museum ships. I don't even think we've tried for Enterprise in specific."
Admiral Raleigh couldn't seem to help a smile crossing his face when he shook his head, "No, we haven't. Not that I am aware of, anyway. So you're suggesting...that..."
The Admiral trailed off when he realized exactly what the teacher was suggesting. And let out a sigh at the simplicity of it all.
"You know, you may be on to something there, Mr. Jones." Admiral Raleigh tapped his chin, looking down on the relatively short teacher. "I know that not even the British try for anyone in specific when they summon. Beyond asking for a general class." Frowning slightly, the older man let his hand drop back down to his side. "And maybe...maybe we should at least try."
"It can't hurt, can it?" Jones asked back.
"No, I don't think it can. Well, take a crack at it son."
With another nod, Jones squared his shoulders, walking towards the edge of the pier. He could feel the eyes of the guards stationed around the pool. The stare of Admiral Raleigh. Alaska's curious eyes, watching his every move. They were all watching him, waiting to see what he could possibly bring to the situation. It was quite nerve-wracking, if he was being completely honest. It was one thing to teach students...
It was another entirely to have the weight of so many eyes on his back. And knowing that if this failed, he had just wasted time desperately needed during the War.
No pressure, right? Right.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Jones gulped, settling down his shaking shoulders as he reached down to open his briefcase and pull out the small little violin inside. I know I'm nothing special. But if I can get you back, at least I've done something other than just write about you and the others.
Putting the violin on his shoulder, the young teacher let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. His hands were steady, his motions slow. Shutting his eyes, Jones gently began to play his instrument, a soft melody echoing in the sudden silence of the pier.
At least, until he opened his mouth once more.
"She's the Ship of Happy Landings..."
She had been resting for a very long time. So long that time was meaningless. It had been a peaceful rest, quiet and uninterrupted. After so many long years of service, it was all she could ask for. To rest.
To rest and be gradually forgotten. Newer carriers took her place. Children who never had to face what she had. Who could look up to Enterprise and the others and be proud.
She had been content with this. Her life had been a happy one, until the War. When she saw so much death. So many fell around her. If that was forgotten save for the heroic deeds of her Little Enterprise and the mighty battleships? That was okay.
It was okay if she was forgotten herself. Because it meant that she had done her duty. That those who followed her did not have to see what she did. They could live happy lives, safe from War. And she could re...
She's the Queen of our great Navy...
She's the 'Queen of all the Seas'...
That...it was...
Why? She had forgotten that song. She had been forgotten. Why would someone remember it? And...it felt like they were calling to her. But why? She had served her time in War. She had built up a foundation that would live long past when she herself had moved on. Was there any need for an old soldier in the face of that?
With her fighters, scouts and bombers...and gigantic T4Ms...she could fight and win a battle all alone...
She had never won any battle alone. Not like Enterprise. But she had given it everything she had, so many times over. She had fought until her frames were bent, her hull worn to the point she could never see proper service again. Her death had been a long time coming. She had no regrets. She had no reason to cry. So why...
Why did she feel like she should?
This was her song. The one she had once been proud to hear belted across her decks when she and Lady Lex were competing with each other. But it had been so many years since she had heard it...so many painful and sad years. Happier days...she could remember them, even now. But the song did not make her happy.
It made her sad. It was not the upbeat tone she remembered. It was mournful, begging her to listen. To hear it.
Filled with raw emotion she had never felt before.
Slow. Sad. Regretful.
The most majestic man-o-war...that ever sailed the seas.
Majestic? Was she, truly, majestic? She was old and outdated. Everything had passed her by so very long ago. But...she was once the most beautiful ship in the Navy. That was many years ago. But she could remember it. Remember the joy and pride of those who served aboard her. Why was this being sung to her now?
...
...
To return? Return...
She's the mighty Saratoga...
She...she was. It had been forgotten, but she had done so very much. And she could do so much more still. If she just heeded the call. If she returned, she could build anew. Help like she had always done before. Become the same figure that the Navy had once been so proud of.
Pride of all the USN!
She may not be the pride of the Navy any longer. But she could not ignore such a plea. The voice calling her back was soft. Desperate to see her. To see the Ship of Happy Landings. The warship that had once been the pride of the Navy the world over. The one who had created so many things. Was the source of so many happy memories. Who had fought harder than she had ever been designed to do.
Maybe she couldn't come back as she had been. She knew that the others would fight harder and better. But...maybe, just maybe, she could forge her own path. For...
She could not ignore such a call. She could not just leave it unanswered.
She wanted to know who remembered her so fondly.
Letting out a soft sigh, Jones let the violin fall to his side, his hand holding it against his leg. The stares had not faded, even as he finished singing. In any other situation, he would be flushed bright red. He could not sing. His eyes were directed at the ground. But that song...
It was Sara's song. And if anything would call to her, he hoped it was that. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. But he had...to...
"Welcome back, sailor."
Admiral Raleigh's voice snapped his eyes up, green widening in shock. For standing in the pool was a woman. A tall woman, taller than any that the teacher had ever seen. Hell, taller than him by quite a good margin. But despite that, he...he felt like he was staring at something much larger. Her lean legs, slim as they were, rippled with power. Her short blue skirt and long black thigh-socks left little to the imagination, either in covering her legs or hiding the raw power in them.
Legs that powered her over to the pier, ghosting over the water. There was no noise...no noise at all. She was almost ghostly silent when she moved. With a grace that screamed power and skill. Her movements were short and secure. There was no hesitation in this woman.
Forcing his eyes from those long legs, Jones looked up at her torso. A simple white tunic covered the woman's body, her modest bust barely tugging at it around her chest. Where a small red ribbon fell, between the blue fabric around her neck. A simple outfit, perhaps. Almost like a school uniform in a way, with the blue bits around her neck, folding into the ribbon. But for all that it was simple...
It didn't do much to change the sense of presence surrounding her. The power and age. She could be wearing a paper bag, and Jones could swear it would feel the same.
No matter what she looked like, no matter how she moved.
She stood tall and proud. With power hiding behind every bit of her form.
Perhaps, that was because of her eyes.
"I have returned, Admiral."
Because even as her soft, musical voice spoke...Jones could not tear his eyes from her own. He noted her small nose, and sharp cheeks. The soft expression on her face, her lips curved into an ever so small smile. He saw her long strawberry blonde hair, held back only by a simple white cap with a proud USN golden eagle on the front...and two golden pins in her bangs.
But all of that was a distraction.
A distraction from the bright blue eyes, staring at him, and not Admiral Raleigh. Eyes that held an age to them that made him feel very small. An age that spoke of years upon years of experience and wisdom. Experience that few could ever hope to match, no matter how long they lived for. Yet for all of that...
Only one thought ran through the teacher's mind.
She...she's beautiful...
"USS Saratoga, CC-3, reporting for duty."
Ahh...so comfy...
Another content sigh echoed through the room, Alaska stretching her limbs out like a cat. Her fluffy white hair...well, fluffed...around her, falling all over the couch. She made no moves to move the hair either, just letting it fall every which way. She was too comfy to care.
"Texas was nice," Alaska muttered, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Staring, but not seeing. All she saw was the elegant old dreadnought, who was currently working up to get used to her new body.
Not that she needed much work there, considering what she had done. Sinking that monster and all. Something Alaska herself hadn't been able to do.
Ah well, she'd done the best she could. Not bad for a large cruiser!
But now, as she turned her overly long body to the side, Alaska wondered what would come next. Wisconsin was gone. Texas could probably take her place, but still...where did that leave them? She and 'Tago were ready to head out again, but the Abyssals had proven they could match them in direct combat. And sink what they couldn't match with submarines. What now?
What would 'Tago say?
Even as the thought went through her head, Alaska giggled lightly. Her best friend in the whole world would just give her a bright smile and her typical...
"Pan-paka-pan~"
...that.
Wait.
What?
Pulling herself up, Alaska blinked slowly and confusedly, as her door slammed open. A giggling Atago stood in the doorway, only a bandage across her face to mark the battle they had been through. Her endless cheerfulness was fully intact, for sure. As were her boundless...fuel tanks. Shaking with her giggles.
"'Laska, you need to come with me!" Atago continued to grin and giggle, completely ignoring the scattered Legos when she glided into the room and grabbed the wrist of the larger cruiser.
"Eh?" Alaska blinked again, looking down at Atago pulling her up from the couch. "But...why?"
"Because we're doing a summoning!" Atago replied easily, throwing her arms up even though she was holding one of Alaska's own limbs. "Pan-paka-pan!"
A...summoning? So soon?
Alaska felt more confused than usual, and that was saying something. She let Atago lead her out of the room of course, why not? But she still felt more than a hint of confusion nonetheless.
Her friend always was so eager and didn't always explain things. Certainly not in ways that the confused large cruiser could understand.
"Why are we summoning?" That didn't stop her from asking the question, even while Atago pulled her through the halls. Snowy white hair flew behind the cruiser, her eyes looking at her friend curiously.
Atago looked back over her shoulder, smile bright as ever, "Someone came to the Admiral with a suggestion to try!"
"What?"
A cute frown crossed Alaska's face, wondering what her friend meant. Was it the Professor that Jersey liked?
"That's what I thought!" Atago had no such confusion. Her boundless energy easily announced their walking path, prompting amused looking sailors and marines to move out of the way. "But I think he may be on to something."
On to...what?
Being confused was a universal constant with Alaska. But her friend was hardly helping things with her vague answers and dragging around. Atago got ahead of herself sometimes, she really did!
But what could she do? It was just how 'Tago was. And as she was dragged into the summoning area, Alaska knew that was never going to change. She liked it about her friend though. Atago could make anyone smile no matter the situation. Sure, she kept trying to make the large cruiser take her romantic advice, but that was just Atago being herself.
Like now, when she stopped suddenly, leaving Alaska to face-plant in her very soft upperworks.
'Tago...can't...breathe...
Prying her face free, Alaska spit out a bit of fuzz and looked around. The summoning pool was surprisingly empty, all told. Just herself, Atago, the Admiral, some guards, a man she didn't know...
Wait, was that who her friend was talking about?
"I brought Alaska, Admiral!" Atago cheered, seemingly oblivious to her friend staring at the silent man by the water.
Admiral Raleigh, on the other hand, was not. The man coughed lightly, waving a hand at the large cruiser. "Alaska?"
Startling, the cruiser turned her confused gaze on the old man, blinking slightly, "Admiral?"
"Atago didn't tell you anything, did she?" Raleigh sighed at the expression on the cruiser's face, slowly reaching up to pinch his nose. A long-suffering sigh escaping his lips.
Alaska just tilted her head, looking between the Admiral and her best friend, "No...?"
Another sigh escaped Raleigh's lips, but he was more bemused than really frustrated, "Of course not. Well, I wanted you here for a reason. Mr. Jones over there is planning on trying a summoning asking for a specific ship. And if she does come back, I wanted you here in case there are any...issues."
Issues?
A frown crossed Alaska's face, when she looked between the Admiral and the silent man by the water. What issues could there possibly be? She couldn't think of any ships she knew coming back that would cause an issue. Alaska barely knew a lot of the old navy beyond the usual suspects anyway. Her sister maybe? But Guam wouldn't be any issue...so...
Like a lightbulb going off in her bridge- she was fairly certain her fairy Captain did turn on a light come to think... -Alaska felt it come to her. Ah. It was her they were trying for, wasn't it?
"Ooooohhhh..." the cruiser let out a little noise of understanding, turning fully back to the Admiral. Alaska fluffed her hair a bit, before nodding at her commander. She knew who he was talking about now. "I understand!"
"Do you?" Raleigh asked, perhaps a small tint of disbelief in his tone.
"Hmm!" Alaska just nodded, turning to walk up by the man at the water's edge.
And almost face-planting into said water. Really, she had been doing so well too!
"Hello," oddly, the man didn't show any signs of amusement. He just turned to look at the cruiser struggling to make her limbs cooperate. A single black eyebrow moving over a green eye, set in a pale face.
A face with rings under the eyes, clear exhaustion evident in the look.
"Um...hi."
And of course, Alaska was equally tongue-tied when she looked at him. The man wasn't cute like the boy at the toy store was, but she still had some issues talking to people she didn't know.
Luckily for her, he didn't seem to judge her. "Alaska, right?"
The lack of judging had Alaska smiling brightly when she nodded, "Uh huh!"
And maybe, just maybe, a little smile crossed the man's face as well, "Daniel Jones, nice to meet you. I guess that Admiral Raleigh wanted you here?"
"Hm."
Jones just smiled for real, turning his head back to the water, "I guess I understand why. Can you move over a little bit? I need space to play this..."
Alaska nodded, moving aside to allow the man his space. Space taken a bit by Admiral Raleigh, who moved up to get closer to the action. Alaska blinked at that, but the man gave her a clear 'don't speak right now' look. Or maybe that was just his regular expression...
It was kinda hard to tell sometimes, to be honest...
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"Well, Jones, this is your show now."
The young teacher couldn't help but suck in a wary breath, when he looked over at the Admiral. Jones knew what he was doing here, yes, but that didn't make it all that much easier on him. He was good at hiding it...but his hands still shook when he reached over to his briefcase. He still had to suck in a shaky breath when he looked down at his feet. There was something entirely different about thinking or planning, and actually doing something, wasn't there?
Especially doing this.
Even the fact that he had the next best thing to a battlecruiser on his other side didn't do much good. At least Alaska, ditzy as the rumors would lead one to believe, was nice.
"Right..." Jones let out a weak sigh, hands clenching by his side. I know what I'm doing...but...
The thought of it being him calling back one of the ship girls was odd to begin with. He wasn't anything special, not really. Just someone who happened to really care about one ship in particular, and with the revelation of the girls...
Well. He found a reason to actually think about her in a different light.
"Now that we're here, do you mind actually telling me what you plan?" Admiral Raleigh broke in, moving to stand right beside the younger man.
Jones turned his head, a small smile crossing his face at that. "Honestly? I think that the best way to call these girls back is to try appealing to one in specific. At least, I hope so."
"Hm. Go on."
"I know that it didn't really work with New Jersey, but have we actually tried to get anyone in specific back since then?" Jones continued, tilting his head to the side. To his knowledge, there had been no such attempts. "I mean, other than other museum ships. I don't even think we've tried for Enterprise in specific."
Admiral Raleigh couldn't seem to help a smile crossing his face when he shook his head, "No, we haven't. Not that I am aware of, anyway. So you're suggesting...that..."
The Admiral trailed off when he realized exactly what the teacher was suggesting. And let out a sigh at the simplicity of it all.
"You know, you may be on to something there, Mr. Jones." Admiral Raleigh tapped his chin, looking down on the relatively short teacher. "I know that not even the British try for anyone in specific when they summon. Beyond asking for a general class." Frowning slightly, the older man let his hand drop back down to his side. "And maybe...maybe we should at least try."
"It can't hurt, can it?" Jones asked back.
"No, I don't think it can. Well, take a crack at it son."
With another nod, Jones squared his shoulders, walking towards the edge of the pier. He could feel the eyes of the guards stationed around the pool. The stare of Admiral Raleigh. Alaska's curious eyes, watching his every move. They were all watching him, waiting to see what he could possibly bring to the situation. It was quite nerve-wracking, if he was being completely honest. It was one thing to teach students...
It was another entirely to have the weight of so many eyes on his back. And knowing that if this failed, he had just wasted time desperately needed during the War.
No pressure, right? Right.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Jones gulped, settling down his shaking shoulders as he reached down to open his briefcase and pull out the small little violin inside. I know I'm nothing special. But if I can get you back, at least I've done something other than just write about you and the others.
Putting the violin on his shoulder, the young teacher let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. His hands were steady, his motions slow. Shutting his eyes, Jones gently began to play his instrument, a soft melody echoing in the sudden silence of the pier.
At least, until he opened his mouth once more.
"She's the Ship of Happy Landings..."
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She had been resting for a very long time. So long that time was meaningless. It had been a peaceful rest, quiet and uninterrupted. After so many long years of service, it was all she could ask for. To rest.
To rest and be gradually forgotten. Newer carriers took her place. Children who never had to face what she had. Who could look up to Enterprise and the others and be proud.
She had been content with this. Her life had been a happy one, until the War. When she saw so much death. So many fell around her. If that was forgotten save for the heroic deeds of her Little Enterprise and the mighty battleships? That was okay.
It was okay if she was forgotten herself. Because it meant that she had done her duty. That those who followed her did not have to see what she did. They could live happy lives, safe from War. And she could re...
She's the Queen of our great Navy...
She's the 'Queen of all the Seas'...
That...it was...
Why? She had forgotten that song. She had been forgotten. Why would someone remember it? And...it felt like they were calling to her. But why? She had served her time in War. She had built up a foundation that would live long past when she herself had moved on. Was there any need for an old soldier in the face of that?
With her fighters, scouts and bombers...and gigantic T4Ms...she could fight and win a battle all alone...
She had never won any battle alone. Not like Enterprise. But she had given it everything she had, so many times over. She had fought until her frames were bent, her hull worn to the point she could never see proper service again. Her death had been a long time coming. She had no regrets. She had no reason to cry. So why...
Why did she feel like she should?
This was her song. The one she had once been proud to hear belted across her decks when she and Lady Lex were competing with each other. But it had been so many years since she had heard it...so many painful and sad years. Happier days...she could remember them, even now. But the song did not make her happy.
It made her sad. It was not the upbeat tone she remembered. It was mournful, begging her to listen. To hear it.
Filled with raw emotion she had never felt before.
Slow. Sad. Regretful.
The most majestic man-o-war...that ever sailed the seas.
Majestic? Was she, truly, majestic? She was old and outdated. Everything had passed her by so very long ago. But...she was once the most beautiful ship in the Navy. That was many years ago. But she could remember it. Remember the joy and pride of those who served aboard her. Why was this being sung to her now?
...
...
To return? Return...
She's the mighty Saratoga...
She...she was. It had been forgotten, but she had done so very much. And she could do so much more still. If she just heeded the call. If she returned, she could build anew. Help like she had always done before. Become the same figure that the Navy had once been so proud of.
Pride of all the USN!
She may not be the pride of the Navy any longer. But she could not ignore such a plea. The voice calling her back was soft. Desperate to see her. To see the Ship of Happy Landings. The warship that had once been the pride of the Navy the world over. The one who had created so many things. Was the source of so many happy memories. Who had fought harder than she had ever been designed to do.
Maybe she couldn't come back as she had been. She knew that the others would fight harder and better. But...maybe, just maybe, she could forge her own path. For...
She could not ignore such a call. She could not just leave it unanswered.
She wanted to know who remembered her so fondly.
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Letting out a soft sigh, Jones let the violin fall to his side, his hand holding it against his leg. The stares had not faded, even as he finished singing. In any other situation, he would be flushed bright red. He could not sing. His eyes were directed at the ground. But that song...
It was Sara's song. And if anything would call to her, he hoped it was that. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. But he had...to...
"Welcome back, sailor."
Admiral Raleigh's voice snapped his eyes up, green widening in shock. For standing in the pool was a woman. A tall woman, taller than any that the teacher had ever seen. Hell, taller than him by quite a good margin. But despite that, he...he felt like he was staring at something much larger. Her lean legs, slim as they were, rippled with power. Her short blue skirt and long black thigh-socks left little to the imagination, either in covering her legs or hiding the raw power in them.
Legs that powered her over to the pier, ghosting over the water. There was no noise...no noise at all. She was almost ghostly silent when she moved. With a grace that screamed power and skill. Her movements were short and secure. There was no hesitation in this woman.
Forcing his eyes from those long legs, Jones looked up at her torso. A simple white tunic covered the woman's body, her modest bust barely tugging at it around her chest. Where a small red ribbon fell, between the blue fabric around her neck. A simple outfit, perhaps. Almost like a school uniform in a way, with the blue bits around her neck, folding into the ribbon. But for all that it was simple...
It didn't do much to change the sense of presence surrounding her. The power and age. She could be wearing a paper bag, and Jones could swear it would feel the same.
No matter what she looked like, no matter how she moved.
She stood tall and proud. With power hiding behind every bit of her form.
Perhaps, that was because of her eyes.
"I have returned, Admiral."
Because even as her soft, musical voice spoke...Jones could not tear his eyes from her own. He noted her small nose, and sharp cheeks. The soft expression on her face, her lips curved into an ever so small smile. He saw her long strawberry blonde hair, held back only by a simple white cap with a proud USN golden eagle on the front...and two golden pins in her bangs.
But all of that was a distraction.
A distraction from the bright blue eyes, staring at him, and not Admiral Raleigh. Eyes that held an age to them that made him feel very small. An age that spoke of years upon years of experience and wisdom. Experience that few could ever hope to match, no matter how long they lived for. Yet for all of that...
Only one thought ran through the teacher's mind.
She...she's beautiful...
"USS Saratoga, CC-3, reporting for duty."
And there's that. Like I said, same boat as SMS Pringles. Though with her, it's just because I haven't figured out how to use her quite yet. With this, it's a matter of waiting until/if JMP decides to use it. I've got it here, and it is about how I see this going. But it's still in that preview-if-used stage.
Also, I didn't make up the bit in the middle.
"She's the 'Ship of Happy Landings'
Largest man-o-war afloat,
She's the Mother Ship to o'er a hundred planes
She's the Queen of our great Navy,
She's the 'Queen of all the Seas'
And she's known the world o'er by many names
With the ease of a destroyer
She turns out her thirty-five
Two thousand men-o-war call her 'home'
With her fighters, scouts and bombers
And gigantic T4Ms
She could fight and win a battle all alone
The most majestic man-o-war
That ever sailed the seas.
There isn't any weather she can't greet,
She's the mighty Saratoga
Pride of all the USN
She's the Flag of Aircraft Squadrons, Battle Fleet"
Thanks once again to the endlessly useful USS Saratoga an Illustrated History for bringing this to my attention.
Largest man-o-war afloat,
She's the Mother Ship to o'er a hundred planes
She's the Queen of our great Navy,
She's the 'Queen of all the Seas'
And she's known the world o'er by many names
With the ease of a destroyer
She turns out her thirty-five
Two thousand men-o-war call her 'home'
With her fighters, scouts and bombers
And gigantic T4Ms
She could fight and win a battle all alone
The most majestic man-o-war
That ever sailed the seas.
There isn't any weather she can't greet,
She's the mighty Saratoga
Pride of all the USN
She's the Flag of Aircraft Squadrons, Battle Fleet"
Thanks once again to the endlessly useful USS Saratoga an Illustrated History for bringing this to my attention.
