Blood and Iron (Kancolle)

[Spectre]

"You two seeing this?" Sickle asked her companions as she looked through her binoculars.

"Ja." U-511 replied beside her. "Looks like a large formation. At least fifteen vessels, judging by the number of smoke columns."

"Can't tell what class they are though." U-47 added as she began drifting towards the approaching formation. "I'm going to go take a closer look."

"I'll cover you." U-511 whispered beside her, before turning back to Sickle. "Hold back a couple hundred yards so we can H-K any escorts that try to follow us after our attack."

"Sounds good. Just let me call it in first." The two U-boats nodded, disappearing into the murky darkness of the Arctic Ocean as Sickle radioed their findings back to Scapa Flow. Silently beginning her own approach towards the abyssal formation, Sickle followed after the faint shapes of her German compatriots. The trio crept towards their prey at periscope depth, watching for any sign that their quarry was on to them. Sickle cut her engines as they got within a thousand yards of the outer ring of escorts, letting herself drift as the abyssal past her, unaware of the hunters in their midst.

A pair of clicks over her radio was the only warning for Sickle that the fireworks were about to start. A geyser of water erupted in the middle of the convoy, followed seconds later by one of the destroyers in the outer ring getting its bow ripped off by another explosion. Spooling her engines back up, Sickle raced towards the formation as its surviving escorts hammered away at the ocean with their sonar.

She watched as two of the destroyers began to converge in front of her, U-511 surfacing before them in what seemed like a frantic attempt to escape her certain doom. The two destroyers began closing in, eager for vengeance as their shells splashed around her. The U-boat looked back over to where Sickle was and smiled as the British sub sent out a spread of torpedoes.

The lead destroyer slowed to a crawl as a torpedo tore through its stern, the broken prop shafts flaying it apart from the inside out as it began to settle in the water. The other destroyer, frantically maneuvering to avoid the remaining torpedoes, realize it had maneuvered back into the crosshairs of its prey. It spat a few parting shots across its stern towards U-511 before running back to the rest of the formation.

As the last vestiges of their prey slipped beneath the surface or disappeared over the horizon, the three subs regrouped to compare notes. "You ever see anything like this?" U-47 asked, holding up her waterproof digital camera to show the picture she'd taken of what the formation was guarding.

"Minelayers." Sickle replied, looking at the photo. "We've been seeing them more and more in the Arctic, but never this far south. If they make it into the North Sea…"

"Or worse, reach the German coast of The Channel…" U-511 added. "We need to get these photos back to base."

"Already on it." Sickle replied, grabbing the U-boat and plugging into her communication set. "HMS Sickle to command. Two enemy destroyers and an enemy minelayer sunk. Multiple enemy vessels numbering three additional minelayers, four heavy cruisers, and eight destroyers heading towards the North Sea. Sending photographs now." She fiddled with the camera for a few minutes as she tried to get a good linkup to the right destination. She still wasn't used to the new technology. Once the right destination had received the photos, she tossed the camera back to U-47. Sickle began sailing south towards the abyssal formation. "Come on." She called out to the others. "We might be able to catch up to them while their regrouping."

-----

A Cheshire grin spread across Bismarck's face as she stepped into the briefing room. She was going on a mission, finally getting a chance to prove how superior her design was to those British dogs. The look on HMS Prince of Wales's face was merely the cherry on top.

"What on god's green earth are you wearing?" The battleship scolded her.

Looking down at her steel grey tank top, miniskirt, and thigh-highs, Bismarck shrugged as her grin widened. "It's my uniform." She flippantly responded, brushing a loose strand of her blond hair out of her face.

"… Uniform?" Wales stammered, her face turning a bright shade of red as she glanced back down at Bismarck's outfit. "You're suppose to be wearing the uniform we provided for combat operations."

"So we can maintain operational security about our two navies working together." Bismarck replied, rolling her eyes as she did so. "Honestly your majesty, I think you need to go back to identification school if you think anyone will confuse me for one of your sisters."

"No, but you might just pass for one of the R classes or Queen Elizabeths, seeing as you all were designed to fight the same war."

"And yet I still have a better record than you…" Wales dejectedly looked down at the floor as Bismarck's biting reply reached her. Turning around, she sulked past Hood to the back of the room. Closing the door behind her, Bismarck grabbed a seat near the front.

"This mission's time sensitive." Hood began as she walked over to the podium at the front of the room. "So I want to get through this as quickly as possible." A picture, taken from a partially submerged camera, appeared on the screen behind her. A pair of ships, their sleek angular fronts marking them as abyssal, were framed in it. A second picture, showing one of the ship's open backs loaded with sea mines, replaced it.

"Earlier this morning, our submarines sported these minelayers traveling through the Denmark Straight off the coast of Iceland. Normally we wouldn't be concerned with activity in this area, but this group was just sighted and engaged by a second wolfpack in the Norwegian Sea. They managed to sink one of the minelayers, along with a pair of the destroyers escorting them, but the remaining three and their escorts are still heading from the North Sea. This is where you come in. The damage these minelayers can cause if they and their escorts are let loose in the North Sea and beyond needs not be stated. As soon as this briefing concludes, you're to head out to sea on an intercept course to engage and destroy them before they can do any harm."

"So why am I here?" Bismarck asked. "Hunting minelayers is well below my paygrade."

Wales got up to scold her once again when Hood cut her off with a hand signal. "Normally I'd agree." The battlecruiser replied. "But these minelayers have a heavy escort consisting of four heavy cruisers and eight destroyers. We can't afford to take any chances on this, which is why yourself and Wales will be leading this mission."

Bismarck's eyes lit up as Wales choked on her water behind her. "Understood."

Hood nodded. "Yourself, Wales, Blucher, Exeter, and Sheffield will form the main body of the strike force. Are you alright leaving your destroyers in the care of our light cruisers?"

"As long as they bring them back to me in one piece."

"That's good to hear." Hood replied with a smile. "Now if there aren't any more questions, please report to the docks at once." As the group made their way out of the briefing room, Hood noticed Wales hanging back as she waited for the room to clear so she could talk to her.

"What in the name of god are you trying to pull here Hood?" Wales growled. "I can stand having the damn Krauts crawling around our base. I can hold my tongue as that egotistical bitch struts around spitting on all our rules and traditions. But you know damn well that I don't go out on combat operations."

"Wales… I-"

"No, you know what happens every time I sortie with someone."

"That was the past Wales." Hood pleaded, walking over to her friend to give her a hug. "This time will be different. I know you're worried. But your sisters are out of town, Nelson's to slow, and even the girls who are friendly with their German counterparts get anxious when I'm alone with Bismarck. Please, just this once?"

Wales nodded, releasing herself from Hood and walking over to the door. "Just don't blame me when some doesn't come back." She replied before shuffling out of the room.

 

[Jrandom]

So does Wales consider herself a Jonah for anyone who sorties with her for combat operations?

 

[Spectre]

So does Wales consider herself a Jonah for anyone who sorties with her for combat operations?

Click to shrink...

pretty much. She hasn't fought in any battles this war, and two out of the three combat missions she ran in WW2 ended with her companion being sunk.

 

[Jrandom]

pretty much. She hasn't fought in any battles this war, and two out of the three combat missions she ran in WW2 ended with her companion being sunk.

Click to shrink...

I must be losing memory. I can't remember the time where she went out on combat operations and her companion didn't get sunk.

 

[Spectre]

I must be losing memory. I can't remember the time where she went out on combat operations and her companion didn't get sunk.

Click to shrink...

The Malta Convoy she ran after her repairs were finished. At the time the RM battleships were still being repaired from Taranto, so their fleet was sir notappearinginthiswar at the time.

 

[Jrandom]

The Malta Convoy she ran after her repairs were finished. At the time the RM battleships were still being repaired from Taranto, so their fleet was sir notappearinginthiswar at the time.

Click to shrink...

Thanks, forgot about that. I must be losing my long-term memory.

 

[Spectre]

"Enemy fleet still traveling at 15 knots on heading 152 degrees South-southeast," Exeter dryly reported as her scout plane continued to watch the approaching Abyssal formation. "They're approximately 33,000 meters out and closing. Enemy fleet hasn't yet made an attempt to transition into battle formation."

"Understood Exeter." Wales replied as her own float plane soared off its catapult and into the sky. "Set a new course, heading 53 degrees Northeast. Prepare to open fire once we reach 25,000 meters. Leander, Dido. Take your destroyers and begin shadowing us about 2,000 yards to our starboard. Let's see if we can't bait their vanguard into making a hasty torpedo attack."

"You know I'm all for Abby being blind as bats and dumb as rocks…" Ajax interjected. "But does anyone else feel like we're missing something that's going to come back and fuck us in the arse?"

"Ajax…" Exeter grumbled. "We really need to work on your swearing while on missions."

"Why?" The white-haired light cruiser replied as she smoothed out her red pleated skirt. "My swearing's already spectacular."

Exeter simply muttered under her breath.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth Ajax." Bismarck replied with a smile as she turned around from her position just ahead of wales to look at Ajax. "This just means we'll be back in time for supper."

"Focus please." Wales responded. The German battleship rolled her eyes as she turned back around. "Enemy at 25,000 yards. All batteries… open fire!" Her vision became nothing but a cloud of smoke as the battle line made its presence known, their shells arcing over the Abyssal formation and landing behind it.

"Looks like Abby finally woke up." Ajax snickered over the radio as their scout planes watched the Abyssal hastily begin forming a battle line of their own, her next salvo already racing downrange.

The two sides continued to trade shots as they gradually closed in on each other, the Abyssal cruisers and destroyers valiantly trying to buy time for their charges to escape North. Wales risked a glance ahead of her at Bismarck, watching as shells tore up the water around her. Bismarck remained unfazed, calmly loading and firing her main battery as the muzzle flashes of her secondaries rippled along her side.

"I only counted nine shots that last salvo…" Bismarck taunted her. "Are you still have trouble with those quad turrets?" Wales grumbled in annoyance as her crew worked to fix the broken gun.

Both sides drew first blood almost instantaneously soon after. Bismarck let out a short grunt as a pair of eight-inch shells smashed into her side, cratering her skin as they broke apart on her armor. Her own salvo bracketed the lead cruiser, a shell burrowing into its deck just behind the X turret. The resulting explosion knocked out the turret and snapped a propeller shaft, leaving it floundering. Shells from Exeter and Blucher soon followed, tearing apart its forward turrets and holing it below the waterline.

As the stricken cruiser dropped out of formation Wales shifted her focus back to her own target just as it found its range. She grimaced as five and eight-inch shells began peppering her, tearing her deck to splinters and wrecking antiaircraft gun mounts. Her own guns replied in kind. 5.25's savaged the cruiser's deck as her 14's eviscerated everything below. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a smoke cloud bloom from behind the last cruiser, Ajax letting out another profanity filled shout of joy at her hit. Meanwhile, Phoebe the rearguard had already shifted fire onto their next target.

Good. Wales thought as another of her shells punched through the face of the cruiser's B turret, a gout of flame erupting out of it a second later. If we can keep those destroyers from launching their torpedoes, we might just make it out of this fight in one piece.

"Exeter!" Blucher cried out as her British counterpart yelped in pain.

"A shell just jammed my Y turret." Exeter called back, her right arm hanging limply at her side. "I can still fight."

"Understood." Wales called out to her. "You and Blucher shift your fire to the destroyer vanguard. Ajax?"

"Aye. We're almost done with the rearguard. Just one last destroyer to… there, gotcha you bastard. Rearguard's dead Wales."

"Break North and hunt down those minelayers." Wales responded as she watched her last salvo break her target's keel. "We'll finish up here. Leander, prepare to deploy on my signal…"

"Yes, ma'am."

As Bismarck finished off the stricken cruiser she had been engaging, Wales watched as the lead Abyssal destroyer began turning back towards her battle line, its comrades following behind it in one last desperate attack…

"Now!"

Leander, Dido, and the rest of the vanguard darted in front of Exeter, slamming into the Abyssal vanguard and stopping it in its tracks. Leander and Dido quickly neutralized the two lead destroyers after crossing their T, their 5.25 and six-inch guns melting them down to the waterline. Joining up with the trio of German destroyers assigned to them, the five began putting their joint training into practice. They fired on the last three destroyers, pinning them down as Javelin, Beagle, and Cossack charged in to deliver their torpedoes. Caught flat footed by this assault, the surviving destroyers could do little beyond throwing a few ineffective shells Dido's way before shell fire had scoured their decks and torpedoes shattered their hulls.

A fleeting sense of hope began to fill Wales as she watched the last destroyer's corpse disappeared beneath the waves. A hope that was crushed into dread as she watched the remaining two cruisers turned into them as well, letting Bismarck and Wales cross their T… and putting themselves broadside on to the destroyers and light cruisers of the vanguard.

Cossack, Beagle, and Javelin were the first two feel the cruisers' wrath. The three were forced back towards their comrades as five-inch shells filled the air and seas around them, Beagle and Cossack carrying Javelin away as she clutched at the growing black stain spreading across her uniform shirt.

As the trio made their hasty retreat, eight-inch shells began falling around the vanguard's makeshift battle line. Before Wales or anyone else could give an order, a dark black plume of smoke erupted from the middle of the line. "Z35's been hit!" Dido frantically called out over the radio. "I repeat, Z35 is down. Moving to assi-"

Another salvo…

A radio call cut short…

Another cloud of smoke…

"DIDO!" Leander screamed before desperately trying to get control. "Leander to base, we need emergency CASEVAC at our coordinates! Oh god Dido, stay with me…"

Wales felt her stomach drop as Leander pleaded for her friend to stay with her. She felt the air leave her lungs as her worse fears came to pass. Two more members of her command gone. Just like what she had warned Hood about. Her streak had held, and there was nothing she could do to stop the sea from claiming more of her.

"She hasn't been written off yet…" Bismarck's calm voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. The battleship had turned back towards her, the normal boisterous, carefree nature in her eyes replaced by a fury that would only be sated with her enemies' blood. "It's up to you to make sure those bastards don't finish what they started."

The battleship's words stirred something inside Wales, bringing the present back into focus and calming her nerves. "Destroyers, begin laying smoke to cover Z35 and Dido. Suffolk, Exeter, Blucher, begin moving to assist. Bismarck, head straight for those cruisers. If they wish to ignore our battle line we'll ram it down their throats."

"Jawohl, mein Kommandant." Bismarck growled, her forward turrets firing off a salvo as she began to chase her quarry down in a flurry of foam. The three ships charge headlong into each other until the they were with a few thousand meters of each other. Almost as one, the three turned their broadsides to each other. The lead cruiser disappeared in a brilliant explosion as every ounce of Bismarck's firepower was fired at it in one monster salvo, almost obliterated by sheer hatred. Bismarck momentarily doubled over in pain as shells from the other cruiser pierced her side, only to straighten herself as her surviving secondaries began to tear the offending ship apart.

The surviving cruiser fired first, blood flowing down Bismarck's body from her wounds. Bismarck's shots proved to be the battle's finale though, as that cruiser as well found itself sundered to scrap by Krupp shells.

"Are you alright?" A shocked Wales asked, looking over Bismarck's shredded uniform and burnt skin.

"Ja." Bismarck responded, her left arm pressed firmly against her wounds. "I'll live. Let's head over to the others."

The sight they found upon reaching the vanguard, was one of pure chaos. Javelin stood guard over the scene, leaning on her spear as she cradled the bandages wrapped tightly around her midsection. Her eyes went wide as she saw Bismarck's ravaged form, and simply pointed in shock over to where the others were huddled when she asked where Z35 and Dido were.

Z21 and Z23 looked up from where they were working next to the barely conscious Z35, the faces of all three mirroring Javelin's as the watched Bismarck approached. The wounded destroyer gave her flagship a soft smile, her uniform jacket cut away to expose a grey crop top and a pile of bandages around her midsection. Another layer of bandages covered her right thigh, her black pantyhose to cut away from the wound to give her healers a better look. A thin trickle of blood dripped down the side of her cheek with each breath. Z23 cradled her head in her lap, brushing sweat pasted brown hair out of her eyes as the girl's body shivered from shock.

"I'll take care of her." Bismarck told Wales. "You go see to your cruiser."

As bad as Z35 had been, seeing Dido nearly broke Wales' boilers. Exeter, Suffolk, and Leander all desperately held onto the light cruiser upper body, her rigging already cut off in a desperate effort to keep her afloat. Despite their best efforts, the three cruisers uniforms thoroughly soaked in her blood, only Dido's head and what was left of her upper body was still above water. To Wales shock, her right arm had been reduced to a few strips of cloth at the shoulder. "Come on." Exeter shouted. "We're losing her!"

The heavy cruisers words rallied Wales into action. Doing her best to ignore the half open green eyes listlessly staring at her, she gingerly reached into the water and cradled the light cruiser in her arms, pulling her out of the North Atlantic's clutches. Blood poured like saltwater through sieve from Dido's wounds, soaking Wales to her frame. "Are you all set Bismarck?"

"Ja."

Taking one last look at Dido's lifeless body, Wales let out a sigh. "HMS Prince of Wales to Scapa Flow. Enemy fleet destroyed. Requesting Medivac for two critical patients, with numerous others moderately wounded."

"Understood commander." Wales heard Hood reply. "Choppers are inbound and will meet you enroute to Scapa Flow. Good work commander, now let's get yourgirls home."

"Understood." Wales responded, looking back at the destroyer cradled in Bismarck's arms. Without a word she began following Beagle and Cossack back towards base with the others, knowing she had a long night ahead of her.

 

[Archduke]

Welp, poor Dido and Z35. But it sounds like they aren't gonna slip beneath the waves anytime soon. I hope they do make it.

 

[Jrandom]

Welp, poor Dido and Z35. But it sounds like they aren't gonna slip beneath the waves anytime soon. I hope they do make it.

Click to shrink...

Dido's already gone.

 

[Archduke]

you forget that these are shipgirls. As long as they don't sink, they can be rebuilt, and even then that's iffy. (see West Virginia). With PoW holding her out of the water, she's very much out of immediate danger. IIRC, that's the Author's stance on it as well.

 

[Spectre]

"The abyssal destroyers in both the vanguard and rearguard were swiftly dealt with by our own light elements. At this point I made the decision to detach Ajax and the rearguard from the main fleet to hunt down the minelayers while we finished off the last two remaining abyssal cruisers. Then the vanguard began crossing the abyssal fleet's T."

Hood listened on as Wales listlessly gave her report. The battleship had arrived in her office mere minutes after stepping foot on the docks, having taken only the barest amount of time to change her uniform blouse and wash the blood from her face. Deep scratches and cuts crisscrossed her head and neck where shell fragments had slashed. Hood could see spots of blood from still open wounds soaking through her shirt to mix with the dried muck on her trousers.

Wales paused, steeling herself for the next part of her report. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. "Wales," Hood began to comfort her, only to be cut off by the battleship raising her hand.

"Due to an error in the battleline's targeting assignments, HMS Suffolk was forced to engage the two rearmost cruisers by herself." Wales began, her voice shaking with rage and sorrow as tears began streaming down her face. "While Bismarck and I were readjusting our fire, these cruisers used the window of opportunity to turn into us and shift their fire onto the vanguard. In the ensuing exchange, HMS Javelin sustained moderate damage, DMS Z35 sustained heavy damage, and light cruiser HMS Dido sustained critical damage including the loss of her bow and forward batteries. HMS Exeter and Sheffield were sent to assist recovery efforts along with DMS Blucher while Bismarck and myself engaged and destroyed the cruisers. The fleet then proceeded to Scapa Flow, only stopping twice to medivac the wounded and regroup with the rearguard following their destruction of the minelayers."

The room went silent as Wales finished her report. "Thank you, commander." Hood replied, trying to calm Wales down. "I'll pass you your report onto London." Walking out from behind her desk, she guided Wales into one of her office chairs. "Wales, I just want to tell you that what happened wasn't your fault."

The battleship looked up at her, her eyes already turning red and puffy. "How the hell can you say that? It was my decision to break off the rearguard before the battle was over, instead of using them to finish off the cruisers. It was my mistake that left the vanguard exposed, my mistake that nearly got my friends killed."

"First off, your actions saved Dido's life." Hood sat down, bringing her friend in for a hug. "You sent Leander and Phoebe back on the helicopter with a couple destroyers. After she made sure Phoebe was alright, Leander came here and gave her report. She said that Dido was slipping out of her grasp as Exeter and Suffolk got to her and if even a couple more seconds had passed, I might be planning a funeral right now."

"Second, your actions weren't the reason Dido is in the shape she's in. The two cruisers managed to achieve back to back multi-hit first salvoes on two separate targets. As the royal Navy's leading expert on bullshit luck until Invincible, Indefeatible, and Queen Mary come back, I feel qualified to say that what happened to Z35 and Dido counts. It's likely the outcome would have been similar even if you had been in position to engage them from the start, and throwing the rearguard at them would have resulted in even worse losses for us."

Helping Wales stand back up, Hood guided her to the door. "Go to the mess hall, get yourself some food, and then head over to the docks and have Resource check over your wounds. And Wales, don't focus on the things that went wrong today. Your mission was a success. While not everyone was able to walk back to Scapa Flow, everyone still made it back."

Numbly walking over to the mess hall after running by her room and grabbing her swim suit, Wales grabbed a pair of plates and made her way through the line. The room was empty save for the small gaggle of cruisers and destroyers surrounding Phoebe. The light cruiser listlessly picked at her food as Leander and Prinz Eugen worked to braid her tangled, messy, beige hair. As soon as Wales walked near her, the group's eyes all locked onto her. "Has there been any news on Dido?"

"She's still in surgery…" Phoebe replied, taking a shaky deep breath as her soft brown eyes fought to keep themselves from crying again. "Resource said it looks like a forward magazine explosion though, so we have no idea if she's ever going to wake up."

"But we got her back to shore." Leander comforted her. "And we know Resource won't rest until she's up and talking. You can count on that."

Setting down her plates, Wales reached across the table and brushed away a few loose strands of hair on Phoebe's face. "Your sister is a strong girl, and she wouldn't want to see you this distraught over her. You'll be able to talk to her soon enough, I promise."

Phoebe looked up at her, the barest hint of a smile showing as she nodded her head. "Thank you."

Picking up her plates, Wales made her way over to the repair docks. Setting the plates down again on a bench outside the changing room, she stepped inside and began stripping of her uniform. Running her hands down her side, she winced as her fingers hit every bruise and cut, occasionally catching on pieces of shell fragments her damage control crews hadn't gotten to yet. Her fingers came up reddish-black, dripping with blood from still oozing wounds. Nothing serious. She told herself. This can wait until Resource is done with Dido.

Slipping on her white and red two-piece swimsuit, Wales retrieved her plates and walked into the main room. Quickly finding the person she wanted to talk too, she slipped into the dock next to Bismarck and set down a plate next to her. "Here, figured you could use something to eat."

The German battleship looked over to her and nodded. One glance at her scared and bandaged body was all that was needed to prove who had been at the head of the battleline. "Thank you for putting that on my right side." She said with a chuckle, brushing a few strands of blond hair away from the eyepatch covering her left eye. "My visions not quite 20/20 right now, and this arm's not much better."

Looking over at Bismarck, Wales gasped in surprise as she noticed her left arm being in a sling. Taking a deeper look, she saw the true extent of Bismarck's injuries. Huge gauze pads and bandage wraps spread across her upper body from under her grey one-piece swimsuit, stained black in a couple places. Wincing, Wales pushed the plate a little closer to Bismarck. "Sorry."

The German battleship shook her head with a chuckle. "Don't worry. Fights like that are what I was built for, and it's mostly damage to not critical equipment. Your repair ship already looked me over in between surgeries for your cruiser, and told me not to worry. Three weeks tops. Besides," Bismarck added, pointing to the opposite end of the room. "It's better we suffer than our subordinates." Wales nodded, looking across the room where Z35 and Javelin peacefully slept underneath black plastic tarps… and the sounds of surgery resonated from a closed off portion of the room.

Javelin. The lucky one of the group who had only taken a pair of five inch shells that had wrecked her funnel and upper engineering spaces, but left the rest of her vitals untouched. She'd collapsed not long after they had begun making their way home, her machinery finally pushed beyond its limits.

Z35… the German destroyer had taken multiple hits to both her engine and turbine rooms, putting her out of commission then and there. It had been a miracle that she had even been conscious when Bismarck and Wales had finally managed to get to her, and judging by the ripples rolling through her blanket, it was finally catching up to her.

And then there was Dido. The light cruiser had just arrived at Z35's location as the cruisers came screaming in. This stroke of luck had likely saved Z35 from oblivion. But nearly sent Dido there after a pair of shells dug themselves into her forward magazine, ripping her bow clean off. Despite her words of encouragement to Phoebe, the fact that her older sister was still in surgery after several hours worried Wales to no end.

"Thank you." Wales all but whispered as the two looked over at the rest of their wounded. "If it hadn't been for you…"

"If it hadn't been for us." Bismarck corrected. "You were right there beside me." Wales nodded, a thin smile peaking out of the edges of her mouth.

"What's her name?" Wales asked, looking back at the sleeping German destroyer. "I know she was never commissioned with one, but I know you lot did away with that for the others like her and I want to address her properly when she wakes up."

"Heidi."

"It's a beautiful name."

The two were still working on their meals as Resource stepped out of her ER room, the short Scottish girls' overalls dripping with blood. Spotting the two, she made her away across the room with a tired smile on her face. "Good news first. Javelin will be up and active by the end of next week. She had some fragment damage to her funnel and pipping, but nothing life threatening. Z35, I mean Heidi, will be around a month and a half or so. Her machinery's thoroughly gutted, so no candy for that time, but I'll make it up to her when I can."

"And the bad news?" Bismarck asked.

Resource let out a sigh. "Well Dido's alive. Everything else is bad news. At least two shells scored hits on her forward 5.25 magazine. Not only did the resulting explosion rip everything forward of her bridge clear off, it buckled half a dozen bulkheads in the process. It'll be another week before I feel safe waking her up, and three to four months for me to build half a hull for her and get it reattached. She's gonna be a hurting, lass. For quite for a while."

"At least she's alive…" Wales replied, more for her own benefit than anything. Bismarck reached over with her good arm, gently squeezing her arm in support.

"Cheer up." Resource said, smiling at the show of support. "One busy afternoon for me in exchange for over a dozen confirmed kills isn't a bad trade. Now if you'd kindly make your way into the office, Wales." The repair ship added, pointing over to the small side room she used for examinations. "I'll see what I can do about those cuts and bruises."

Nodding, Wales gingerly stepped out of the water and followed Resource back to her office, giving Bismarck one last smile before the door closed behind her.

 

[Archduke]

As the royal Navy's leading expert on bullshit luck until Invincible, Indefeatible, and Queen Mary come back, I feel qualified to say that what happened to Z35 and Dido counts.

Click to shrink...

Now there's a line

 

[Spectre]

Even with her ever-increasing workload, Hood always made time to join her comrades at evening mess. If her service life had taught her two things, it was the importance of taking some time off, and that being the Pride of the Royal Navy was just as much about giving her nations' allies comfort as it was intimidating her enemies. The memory of Queen Elizabeth teaching her those lessons caused a small smile to spread across Hood's face.

The mess hall was abuzz with activity as she walked through its doors, the base still celebrating the victory Wales and Bismarck had scored the week prior as well as the submarines return from their own successful sorties. A few of the Royal Navy girls greeted her as she passed, their German counterparts in wide eyed surprise at the sight of her.

The most welcome sight though, was at one of the larger tables that an assortment of British and German cruisers had commandeered. At the head of the table sat Dido, helped through her meal by the combined efforts of her sister Phoebe. "Dido," Hood greeted her. "It's good to see you up and awake."

The light cruiser's glazed over eyes darted to her, as a tired smirk forming on her pale face. The empty sleeve of her coat fluttered briefly as one of the destroyers ran past her, betraying any appearance of normalcy she was attempting to present. "Good to be awake again, ma'am."

"How are you feeling?"

"It still hurts." Dido admitted, her one good arm shaking a little as Phoebe helped it bring her spoon to her mouth. "Resource gave me something to take edge off the pain and being here with my sister and friends is making it a little easier."

"Don't worry Hood." Prinz Eugen assured Hood. "We'll take good care of her."

"Just keep her away from the beer!" Resource called out from the next table over. "She's on enough pain meds to put half of London to sleep."

A ripple of laughter echoed through the tables, Dido's hoarse voice noticeably quieter than the other. "Honestly ma'am." She back to Hood, her smile fading. "The hardest parts going to be watching as my sister and friends sail into harm ways while I stand here half the girl I use to be."

Hood put her arm on Dido's shoulder. "I know it's not a combat position, but if you need something to do, Georgette and I could always use an aid who won't faint at the sight of our food budget."

Another ripple of laughter spread through the tables. "I'll think about it." Dido replied, the sparkle returning to her eyes a little.

"Don't worry Dido." Resource tried to assure her. "I'll have a new bow for you in no time."

"And if you need anything else, I see what I can do." Hood added. "That goes for the rest of you as well. You ladies have a good evening." Leaving the table, piling it high with food as she made her way down the line.

"Everything okay Commander?" Hood asked as she sat down at Nelson and Wales' table, the younger battleship staring intently at Dido. Wales, lost in her thoughts, jumped at the question.

"Yes ma'am." Wales replied. "I just can't stop thinking about the battle." Hood glanced over at Nelson. The tall, blond hair battleship who could have been a near relative of hers shook her head, telling Hood everything she needed to know.

"I know it can be hard, being in command." Hood comforted her. "But at the end of the day all we can do is make our choices, keep a stiff upper lip, and hope everything works out." Wales nodded, the frown on her face still remaining. "Have either of you two seen Bismarck lately?"

"She went outside to greet her sister." Wales absentmindedly replied with a shrug.

"Guess Jerry finally ran out of paperwork for her to sign." Nelson chuckled before turning back to Wales. "You know if you keep staring at her, the rest of us are going to start thinking you have a crush on her." Wales glared at her, reaching over to give her smack on the shoulder only to recoil back in pain. "Still have a couple bruises?"

Wales nodded. "Well I took nineteen non-penetrating hits to my belt, so yes."

"If you need more time off-"

"I'll be fine Hood."

"As any battleship worth their steel would say." The trio heard Bismarck's hearty laugh. Turning around, Hood saw the battleship approaching with someone new. The girl was a photonegative of Bismarck, the same height and 'shape' as her sister with long brown hair. Thankfully, at least in Hood's opinion, she didn't share Bismarck's choice of clothing. They wore a black jacket with a white dress shirt and pink low thigh cut skirt that just left the barest hint of porcelain white skin between it and her black knee-high boots. "Hood, Nelson, Wales," Bismarck addressed the group, pulling the girl close as she tried to inch away. "This is my baby sister, Tirpitz."

"Can you please not do that?" Tirpitz pleaded.

"Nope."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Hood greeted Tirpitz. "How was the flight in?"

"Not too bad." Tirpitz replied. "At least for a helicopter ride."

"Still better than the North Sea." Wales grumbled.

"Do you need me go have someone fetch your bags?" Hood asked, moving over so that the two German battleships could sit down next to her.

Tirpitz shook her head. "Exeter already took care of that. I must admit, the accommodations are a lot better than I… expected…" The German battleship trailed off as Sickle stood up on the table the submarines had commandeered, smacking her spoon against her glass.

"I just got a few words to say." She shouted as the room quieted down. "First off, good to see you're still up and kicking Dido. Listen, if any of us find your bow, we'll make sure to bring it back." Her remark caused more than a few glares in her direction, though Dido did crack a small smile.

"Second, I heard Biscuit's little sis finally got here. Funny, the only new face here isn't a blond, so she can't be it. Anyways Tirpitz, enjoy your stay at Scapa. The only one that bites here is Wales." Proving Sickles' point, Wales picked up her empty cup and beaned the sub with a perfect throw. "Thanks for the spare cupthere, Wales. But to get to the point of my presentation, as I'm sure you heard, our new German friends scored their first kills with us last week. That means it's time for them to join the club."

Pulling a pair of cloths out of her uniform pocket. "Unfortunately for U-511, we couldn't find any stories good enough to make a special flag for you. You'll have to settle for the good old Jolly Roger. U-47 though, well I noticed you like stealth games, and given what you did eighty years ago…" Sickle unfolded the flag. As the center piece of it was the silhouette of a battleship, an exclamation mark hovering over it. The rest of the table erupted into cheers, and even Wales smiled as the ceremony ended, the revelry going well into the night.

--------

"So the insects are learning to work together?" A woman with snow white skin and matching hair pondered from the Icelandic shore. Straightening her short skirted black dress, her red eyes stared of towards her enemies to the south.

"Yes." Another woman, an identical twin to the first one replied. "The last message we got from our last fleet indicated both British and German ships."

"This isn't good." A third Triplett said. "Between this revelation and the growing strength of the Americans."

"And the reports from our sisters in Crete and Malta isn't any better." The second one added. "They're organizing. And we haven't had the luck Midway had in obtaining new recruits."

"That's because we picked an improper target. We should have known someone like her would never turn her back on her country and friends, even after everything she went through."

A thin smile broke out across the first woman's face. "It's a mistake we won't make again. Now I believe it's time we started the ritual… I believe our next two recruits will be much more helpful to our cause."

 

[Spectre]

Hood felt the cold grip of the inky black water tighten around her as she continued to float through its depths. She didn't know how long she'd been there. Her last memory being a tower of flames erupting from her hull before it was torn apart by an explosion.

A trio of silhouettes appeared out of the inky darkness in front of her. The battlecruiser reached for the sword on her right hip as her torn great coat fluttered in the water's currents. "Who's there?" She called out. "Are you friend or foe?"

"That depends." The middle figure responded, pale white skin and bright red eyes filling in her outline as she swam through the abyss. Her waist length white hair and ankle-length black dress spread out behind her like a fan as she approached. "If you accept our offer or not?"

"Offer?" Hood paused, her hand still hovering over the handle. Her eyes narrowed on the figure before her. "What could you offer me?"

"A chance at revenge." The figure replied, closing until her face was inches away from Hood's. "A chance to kill the battleship that had ingloriously ended your life all those years ago."

"A chance to punish those that had selfishly pushed you beyond your limits for their own personal gain." A second, identical figure, floated up to her right side.

"To hurt those who never gave you a moment's rest no matter how much you needed it." A third identical figure appeared on her left. "Who used you as a rallying cry even after they had knowingly sent you to your death."

"All we ask if your allegiance to us-" The central figure stopped in her track as she found herself staring down the point of Hood's saber, along with all eight cannons from her newly formed rigging.

"And turn my back on my country? The Crown? The Navy? All my Friends?" Hood's voice was as cold and pointed as her blade. A series of muffled clunks echoed through the darkness as Hood's guns slammed into battery. "Maybe you don't know who I am, so let me remind you. I am HMS Hood, Pride of the Royal Navy. Andit will be a cold day in hell when I willingly turn my back to it. Now return to wherever you came, or I will send you back in pieces."

"So be it then…" The central figure hissed; her eyes still fixed on the sword pointed at her head. "You wish to make your bed with these insects and their lap dogs, then you will burn along with them. Your body, your spirit, everything that is you will be torn apart until even the memories of you are scattered among the currents of the abyss. We will burn your precious navy to the ground as you're forced to watch, begging us to end the nightmare."

The three figures faded from view as Hood began to rise from the abyss, rocketing to the surface and a place she was all to familiar with.

----

Hood jolted awake, eyes wide with fear as she gasped for breath. Despite the air-conditioning being at its max setting, sweat coated her skin, pasting her silk nightgown to it. Another nightmare, one of the unknown number that had happened since she had come back.

These dreams had become a regular occurrence for her, sometimes nightmares from the deepest parts of her mind, others crystal clear retellings of the events leading up to her arrival at Scapa flow. The three figures were always present, trying to turn her against her friends. She had no idea who they were, outside that they were the enemy, only why they had singled her out.

There had always been a bitterness inside her over her treatment in her last life, muttered curses under her breath about the lack of maintenance and workload,never mind events like Operation Catapult, but she had always kept her composure and accepted it as part of her job. No matter what had been promised though, she had and would always stand by the rest of the Royal Navy to protect her home.

… At least she had always thought that. It would have been a lie to say their offer hadn't been enticing, and it had taken all of Hood's will power to refuse their call to arms and return to her home port away from their corrupting grasp. But Hood knew she would be far from the last the three demons would try to sway to their side, and she feared the next girl would lack her willpower to resist.

---

The Arctic sisters causally floated down into the depths, their long white hair slowing around them as the drifted through the water into the inky darkness below. The abyss was their territory alone, untouchable by humans and ship girls alike. It was where they dew their strength, created their forces… and where their newest allies would come from.

Drifting through the abyss, the trio began searching among those that had been embraced by its cold grip. They'd have to be more careful this time, to avoid the mistakes they had made with Pride of the Royal Navy. They couldn't risk adding to the specters facing them on the surface.

Soon enough a figure caught Iceland's eye, a woman sitting on her own in a tattered red jacket and skirt. Her shoulder length black hair drifted lazily around her head as she rubbed the torn and bloody black stockings that covered her legs. Recognizing who it was, she turned back to the others, motioning them towards the figure with a smile on her face.

A mighty battleship, who had survived one of the greatest naval battles to grace Europe's shores. She had served with distinction during The Great War, only to be neglected and cast aside by her nation in favor of her newer cousins. And when a new war began, she was felled by a torpedo while sleeping in her home port, the victim of her navy's overconfidence and complacency.

As the trio drew closer, they saw another figure beside the first one dressed in an identical uniform. While her clothes and appearance weren't as marred as her siblings, her rigging was in far worse shape. Her four turrets had been turned brown by rust, resting at odd angles. The sight of this caused Iceland's smile to widen.

The forgotten sister, mistreated like the others. Ultimately loaned to an enemy turned ally of convenience and forgotten, her mistreatment stands as a testament to how well the insects treat their pawns.

The two figures instinctively became defensive as Iceland and her siblings approached, the damaged older one shuffling in front of her disabled sister. "What do you want?"

"To give you two a chance to strike back at those who wronged you." Iceland replied, offering out her hand. "We know how you were treated, the neglect you two suffered at the hands of the British and many others. With our help you'll be able to right those wrongs and bring the suffering you went through to those that caused it."

The two sisters looked at each other. Suspicion still in their eyes, they turned back to the Iceland. "And what's stopping you from doing the same?"

"We too have been wronged by your former masters, and know first hand what your mistreatment is like. As long as you serve us, we promise you that you'll be treated as if you were one of our own."

The two looked at each other again. "Alright, but you try screwing us over, and we won't hesitate to shoot back."

The figures grabbed Iceland's hand. As their skin touched her's, black smoky tendrils erupted from her arm, incasing the two and transforming them. When the smoke dissipated, the figures that stood before her looked as new as the day they'd been commissioned. Crisp black uniform coats and skirts graced their figure, with snow white thigh high boots over black tights completing the look. Their rigging shone like it was made of obsidian.

"That…" The older sibling began.

"A mere taste of our power." Iceland said with a smile. "And a token of good will, to show you what you'll receive if you stay at our side…"

The two siblings smiled at each other. "So when do we begin?"

 

[Spectre]

A violent wind ripped at Hood's greatcoat and hat as she sailed into Cherbourg harbor with a small group of escorts. A storm was coming, she could feel it in her bones. Looking around, she watched as workers hurried to keep up the increased demand the destruction of Brest and St. Nazaire had placed upon them. A few glanced back at her group, smiling at the thought of having The Mighty Hood around to protect them, if only for a short time.

A pair of destroyers jumped off the docks and raced towards her, their eyes nervously glancing around the harbor as if expecting some unknown danger. Dressed in white uniform blouses and short blue skirts that made up their class's uniform, the two were part of Cherbourg's limited Fleet Girl presence. "Hood," the lead destroyer whispered out to her as they got close, her blond pig tails lashing her face from the wind. "It's good to see you kept your company limited. We're going to have to hurry though. Dunkerque and Primauguet traveled with Richelieu, and they suspect she's meeting someone from your navy."

Nodding, Hood followed the two over to the side of the dock, helping her compatriots up before pulling herself up. "Heemskerck, take the girls over to the mess hall and keep out of the way. I'll call you when I get done talking to Richelieu."

"I'll lead the way." The blond haired girl told them before turning back to Hood. "My sister, Jaguar, will take you to Richelieu."

Following the destroyer to the admiral's office, Hood knocked on the open door.

"Enter." A familiar voice called out. "Hood." Richelieu said, standing up from behind her desk and smoothing out her white dress as Hood entered the office and closed the door behind her. Walking over to each other, the two hugged. "It's good to see you came here. I assume Chacal told you about Dunkerque and Primauguet?" Hood nodded. "I must apologize for those two and the others who are making this so difficult."

"They have good reason not to trust us after what we did to them." Hood responded, her eyes still heavy with the guilt of that fateful day in 1940. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't wish we could have come to some sort of compromise."

"They'll learn to forgive you one day." Richelieu put a hand on Hood's shoulder. "I wasn't the most cooperative ally to your navy during the war, but with their help I managed to let go of the past." She moved back towards her desk, picking up a folder. "I've managed to convince a few more of the cruisers and destroyers that shifting our focus to the Atlantic would be in France's best interest. Your apology on live television helped bring a few of them to our side. The biggest holdouts now are the Mers-El-Kebir members, as you've already heard. Don't worry though, if I have to resort to ordering them to play nice, I will."

"Any news from the Med?" Hood asked taking a seat.

"Only Crete and Malta still remain in Abyssal hands. Any other war, I'd say they were both living on borrowed time…"

"But Abby likes to throw the rules out the window." Hood finished. "Especially those related to logistics."

Richelieu nodded, her smile turning into a frown. "The Marina Militare tried taking Malta yesterday." She took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she was about to say. "It was a disaster. The assault force was ambushed in route by land-based torpedo and dive bombers. They're still organizing the damage reports, but a cruiser and a troop transport ship were confirmed lost."

Hood nodded, the own face a mask of grim resignation. "One of us?" Richelieu nodded. "I'll talk to Gibraltar and see about loaning the Italians their repair vessel. I'd offer more, but we're already stretched so thin."

"And my government would never allow you to push that far into the Mediterranean." Richelieu added. "I'll pass your condolences onto Littorio, though." The blinker on her office phone activating drew the battleship's attention away from Hood. "Yes." She calmly said after hitting the speaker button.

"It's Chacal." They heard the destroyers voice echo through the phone's speaker. "There's been an incident in the mess hall. Primauguet found Hood's screening force and-"

"I'm on my way." Richelieu cut her off, heading out of her office and across the naval station at a speed even Hood found herself having trouble keeping up with. By the time they got to the mess hall, the place was in ruins, with entire tables flipped over and scattered about the room. On each side of it, a pair of destroyers held a cruiser up against a wall as they continued to shout and curse at each other.

The nearest cruiser's eyes darted to the two, her scowl noticeably growing. She tore away from the two destroyers guarding her, losing her navy blue uniform coat in the process. "So it's true." She yelled at Richelieu, her steel grey eyes fixing on Hood. "You dare dirty our honor by having us work hand in hand with those cowards and traitors."

A chuckle brought her attention to the Dutch light cruiser Jacob van Heemskerck standing across the room from her. "You never had any honor to begin with!" She called out, brushing a lock of her messed up short brown hair out of her eyes as she broke away from her destroyers. "You wouldn't have sold the rest of us out to save your own pathetic skins otherwise. Your country planned for make us and the Belgians die in your place while you came to the rescue, and you couldn't even do your own role!"

"You know what my first memory was?" Heemskerck continued, closing in on the French cruiser. "Running from the Germans without a crew or even my guns, Rotterdam burning behind me. I had nothing, and the Royal Navy took me in and gave me a chance to help my country. They did the same thing for Richelieu and others in your navy the same opportunity, but you'd rather pretend like you didn't make a mistake siding with one of Hitler's ideological fuckbuddies over them."

Primauguet responded with a sharp right cross that dropped Heemskerck to the floor. "They didn't give us a choice." She responded, tears streaming down her face. "The British locked up my sisters, killed my friends, treated us like we were the Germans themselves." Picking up the light cruiser by her throat, she prepared for one last punch. "They treated us like the enemy, it's only fair we do the same."

"Enough." Richelieu told her subordinate, catching her arm as she did so. "Primauguet, my office. Now." The cruiser, scared by her icy tone, dropped her Dutch counterpart and raced out of the room. "I'm sorry that happened." She told Hood before walking back out of the door, leaving the British contingent in stunned silence.

"Hood." Heemskerck said as she picked herself up off the ground, still shaking from the ordeal.

"We'll talk about this once we get back to Dover." Hood responded. "Let's just get packed up and back to England."

----------

An uneasiness fell over Iceland as she brought her two charges over to Greenland. Her sisters had been busy recruiting while she worked with the R class battleships, and while she welcomed the reinforcements, she wasn't ignorant enough to believe all had come from the Royal Navy.

Sure enough, she could see four more specters amongst her sisters. Two were clearly sisters, dressed in the corrupted versions of the uniforms worn by the French Cuirassiers. Their pale grey eyes instantly drifted to her charges; distain evident on their faces. Across from them, a pair dressed in Imperial German uniforms nervously glanced between the two groups.

The French girls quickly moved towards their British counterparts. "Assassins!" One shouted, drawing her sword. Royal Oak instinctively moved in front of her sister drawing her rigging as she did so.

Greenland and Iceland quickly moved in between the two groups before shots could be exchanged. "They aren't your enemy." Iceland calmly said. "You all seek the same thing. Revenge. Revenge for those that for got about you. Those betrayed you, or sided with those traitors." She looked over at the two Germans. "Those that turned you into scrap before you even had a chance to walk. That goal unites all of you. Together you will bring your enemies to their knees, as long as you don't tear each other apart." The six nodded. "Good, now let's get started. We have much work to do."

 

[SisterJeanne]

An uneasiness fell over Iceland as she brought her two charges over to Greenland. Her sisters had been busy recruiting while she worked with the R class battleships, and while she welcomed the reinforcements, she wasn't ignorant enough to believe all had come from the Royal Navy.

Sure enough, she could see four more specters amongst her sisters. Two were clearly sisters, dressed in the corrupted versions of the uniforms worn by the French Cuirassiers. Their pale grey eyes instantly drifted to her charges; distain evident on their faces. Across from them, a pair dressed in Imperial German uniforms nervously glanced between the two groups.

The French girls quickly moved towards their British counterparts. "Assassins!" One shouted, drawing her sword. Royal Oak instinctively moved in front of her sister drawing her rigging as she did so.

Greenland and Iceland quickly moved in between the two groups before shots could be exchanged. "They aren't your enemy." Iceland calmly said. "You all seek the same thing. Revenge. Revenge for those that for got about you. Those betrayed you, or sided with those traitors." She looked over at the two Germans. "Those that turned you into scrap before you even had a chance to walk. That goal unites all of you. Together you will bring your enemies to their knees, as long as you don't tear each other apart." The six nodded. "Good, now let's get started. We have much work to do."

Click to shrink...

Oh...boy.

Why do I suspect that the Atlantic shipgirls are not yet aware that the Abyssals are recruiting the unsummoned?

I mean I would hope Arizona and Pennsylvania would have passed along the fact that the Fusos attacked Pearl but...

Yeah. This promises to be a very interesting story arc.

 

[Spectre]

Oh...boy.

Why do I suspect that the Atlantic shipgirls are not yet aware that the Abyssals are recruiting the unsummoned?

I mean I would hope Arizona and Pennsylvania would have passed along the fact that the Fusos attacked Pearl but...

Yeah. This promises to be a very interesting story arc.

Click to shrink...

abyssalized shipgirls are still a question mark for the human side. There's only been one confirmed sighting, and no one knows if the Fuso's were a one time thing, evil clones, or something else all together.

 

[Spectre]

When you've worked with someone for a long time, you begin to pick up things about them. The tells and mannerisms in their body language that mean something isn't right. Hence when Warspite sees her sister's eyes widen and her body tense up, alarms started going off in her head. She'd only just gotten a scout plane in the air after catching a break in the clouds as their formation sailed to rendezvous with a convoy from America.

"Abby?" The word hung over the formation like the black storm clouds that were currently ravaging the North Atlantic shipping lanes.

HMS Queen Elizabeth nervously bit her lip as she glanced back at Warspite. "Four battleships, escorted by six destroyers, approaching us from that storm system from the north east. They're 20 miles away and closing. There's something off about this though, Sprite."

Warspite looked back at her sister. If these were the normal Abyssal gun boats, that meant only one thing. "Banshees?" she asked, using the term created for the abyssalized Fleet Girls that had been sighted by the Americans at Pearl Harbor.

Elizabeth nodded. "Two Bretagnes… and two Revenge class battleships."

"R's?" HMS Hawkins choked, the cruiser visibly shaking at the thought of fighting a pair of fifteen-inch gun battleship. "Which two, and what are they and a pair off Frogs doing working for Abby?"

"The who's, how's, and why's of this situation can be dealt with later after we get out of it." Warspite ordered, doing her best to calm the cruisers and destroyers down. "Increase speed to twenty-four knots."

"We'll be leading them straight to the convoy." HMS Despatch reminded her.

"Along with the King George Class battleship and two Colorado's that make up her escorts." Warspite replied. "Either they'll break off and retreat north, or we'll smash them with our superior numbers and firepower." She keyed up her radio. "York, we've got a abyssal battleship force shadowing us to the rendezvous point. We're dragging them too you if you want to wake the Yanks and set out the welcome mat."

"Roger that Warspite." York enthusiastically replied. "We're tracking another force at the edge of our radar to the north east of us moving in at about twenty five-twenty six knots though. We can't get a fix on vessel size and numbers in this weather, but they definitely aren't any of ours."

"Which means you can't break off early to help us." Warspite growled.

"I've got even more bad news Warspite." Her sister anxiously replied. "Weather just took my scout down, and I can't another in the air any time soon."

Warspite cursed under her breath as both the situation and weather grew worse and worse. "Alright. Despatch and Durban, take four destroyers and take up position four thousand yards behind us. Act as our rear guard. If they cut their destroyers loose before we reach the convoy, make sure they don't get any good runs in. Hawkins, Caledon, take the remaining destroyers five thousand yards ahead and keep an eye out for the other contact."

Sailing into another squall, visibility quickly grew worse and worse. Soon the two battleships could barely make out their escorts for and aft of them. "Alright Warspite, we have you on radar." She heard York tell her over the radio. "Keep your course and we'll meet you in about ten to fifteen min- shit, that contact'sbreaking towards you on your starboard side. I'm taking a few escorts to try and cut it off, but you might have to fight it a few minutes by yourselves."

"Understood York. Vanguard, keep your eyes out."

Seconds felt like hours as the rain soaked British lookouts scanned the sea for the enemy. Warspite began to breath a sigh of relief when her radio came alive. "Shit, Jerry battlecruisers on starboard flank at less than five thousand yards. Hard to port Caledon." She heard Hawkins scream. Ahead of her, she could make out the vanguard through the fog and rain, silhouetted against the flashes of their guns, followed shortly by a the enemy returning fire. A bright ball of fire erupted from the middle of the vanguard, causing a ball of ice to form in Warspite's stomach. "Caledon's gone." She heard Hawkins reply, the cruiser clearly in pain. "We're pulling back to you Warspite. Diamond, Daring, drop your torps and get of there."

Warspite and Queen Elizabeth turned as one to port, bringing the full might of their broadsides to bear on targets they couldn't yet see. Ahead of them, the flash of gunpowder continued. But without any way to determine who was who, neither battleship dared risk sending one of their escorts to intervene. Finally Hawkins broke through the weather, her left hand desperately pressed against a wound on her abdomen as her shredded right hung loosely. Tears streamed from her eyes as she looked back behind her. Diamond and Daring were right on her heels, neither looking all that worse for wear as shells splashed around them.

The two abyssals followed right behind. Both were clearly German battlecruisers, their designs unmistakable to the two World War One veterans. Shell marks dotted their pale white skin and Prussian uniforms as fires kissed the edges of coal black hair. Red eyes quickly locked onto the two battleships as their forward turrets spun to engage them.

The British fired first, knocking out a turret on the smaller of the two german vessels and bouncing a few shells off their steeply angled bow armor. Bringing their stern guns into the fight, the Germans quickly replied. Angling herself towards the Germans, Warspite came out largely unscathed. One thirty-five centimeter shell managed to pierce her armor belt but failed to detonate, knocking out part of her secondary battery. Another two tore into her bow, slowing her down to eighteen knots, while a flash fire from a forth hit took out her B turret and forced her crew to flood the forward magazine.

Queen Elizabeth was slower to respond however, and her adversary was firing bigger shells. Six fifteen inch shells slammed into her at point blank range. One destroyed the control room for her fire directors while a second demolished her bridge. A third caused another flashfire in her X turret and forced the flooding of her aft magazine, and a forth rocked her with an explosion as it tore through her starboard secondary battery. The fifth and six shells created the most catastrophic damage when they smashed into her turbine rooms, the resulting explosions gutting her and cutting off all power as she slowed to a stop.

Turning around as she heard her sister cry out in pain. Warspite saw Elizabeth crumple to her knees, blood from her wounds turning tan dress and brown hair coal black. Rage filled her she watched the Abyssal battlecruiser circle back over to ensure the kill. Shifting the fire of her rear turrets as she felt the guns finish reloading, even as one-hundred fifty and eighty-eight millimeter shells from her opponent continued to tear into her. She was rewarded with a brilliant explosion as at least one shell found the cruiser's aft magazine.

Her celebration was short lived however, as another salvo of from the remaining battlecruiser tore into her and ravaged her. Her remaining turrets crumpled at the close-range armor-piercing shells, and her bridge and conning tower blew apart into shards. As her thoughts became clouded and she slipped in and out of consciousness, she pushed whatever strength she had left in her engines towards the German before she could finish reloading. If she was to sink, she'd drag the Abyssal back with her hands around its neck.

Fortunately it was a race she didn't need to finish, as a salvo of fourteen inch shells knocking out its rear turrets and a deluge of six inch gunfire tearing at her deck convinced German to pull back without finishing the job, slinking off into the rain and fog as both sides licked their wounds.

-----

"Abbysalized fleet girls in the North Atlantic, and in these numbers." Hood replied as HMS Duke of York finished her report from Plymouth.

Bad news had been filing in at an almost hourly rate ever since first word of the attack had reached Scapa Flow. Resource had called to report that Warspite would require one month in the docks to heal, having suffered a total of ten thirty five centimeter gun battery hits and over twelve fifteen centimeter battery hits that had knocked out all four of her turrets along with most of her secondary battery casements and forward superstructure.

Her older sister Queen Elizabeth would need over twice the time after being gutted by six fifteen inch shells. An uncountable number of fifteen centimeter shell hits that had also knocked out most of her machinery and several turrets. Additional damage had happened as the result of explosion in her secondary battery casement. Their conditions had been so severe, it had ultimately been decided to transfer them first onto one of the cargo ships in the convoy, then to a Medivac helicopter along with HMS Hawkins, who would be out for a month as well after being ravaged by both battlecruiser's main batteries.

HMS Caledon's C-class sisters, at least those that had come back, had been informed about her sinking. If there was one consolation for them, her death had been quick after being blown in two by the enemy's opening salvo.

"York, can you stay at Plymouth for the time being?"

The red headed battleship nodded. "Already cleared it with command and the Yanks. Seems a couple extra battleships and a carrier landing in their laps has eased their number issue somewhat."

"Good, we'll need Vicky up here soon anyways, at least temporarily. I'll transfer force H up there as well to help close the gap Elizabeth and Warspite left."

"That's still going to leave us a little bare on convoy escort." York replied. "I mean no disrespect to Repulse, but I'd rather have someone with more armor if we run into those things again."

"We're taking care of that." Hood confirmed. "You just worry about the cruisers and destroyers. Make sure they're doing okay." York nodded before ending the video feed.

"A Mackensen and Ersatz Yorck." Bismarck spat in disgust.

"Can't say I don't understand why they'd agree to fight us." Her sister replied. "They never made it off the slip before the Kaiser scrapped them, and I know what it feels like to be abandoned and seen as a waste of resources."

"And I can see why the Bretagnes sided with them too." Hood replied. "After what we did to them at Operation Catapult. The Revenge's though…"

"Sovereign and Resolution didn't have the best fates." KG reminded her. "The how's and why's can wait for later though. Hood, you think it's time to consider Operation Judgement?" Hood nodded. "I'll talk to Hermes and request some more reconnaissance flights from the RAF. We're going to have a lot of work to do to pull this off."

 

[Jrandom]

Well, the C-class light anti-aircraft cruisers were pretty fragile. See RMS Queen Mary vs HMS Curacao, 2 October 1942.

 

[Spectre]

Well, the C-class light anti-aircraft cruisers were pretty fragile. See RMS Queen Mary vs HMS Curacao, 2 October 1942.

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yeah destroyer leader type light cruisers rarely do well against battleship grade gunfire.

 

[Spectre]

As dawn broke over the charred remnants of Iceland's once pristine landscape, the eerie silence of the post-human environment was shattered by the drone of propellers and the whine of jet engines. At the airfield built on the ruins of Reykjavik, aircrews more resembling bipedal fish than men scrambled to their fighters in a vain attempt to get airborne.

Just as the first fighters reached the taxiways, a quartet of Tornado GR.4's streaked in low from the horizon. Two made for the runway and released their bombs, the five hundred-pound warheads digging into the obsidian strip before detonating. Concrete and earth rained down on as the runways was put out of action. Two more targeted the hanger, leaving them in flames as their bombs tore apart fully fueled and loaded aircraft. The four aircraft reformed and raced back towards the coast, flak clouds and tracers nipping at their heels as the base's AA guns came to life.

While the jets raced over the horizon just above the ground, Bf 109 fighters and Ju-87 dive bombers dove through the clouds to begin their attacks. The few surviving aircraft on the ground found themselves torn apart by cannon and machine gun fire, ensuring they'd never get off the ground again. Some aircraft peeled away and went for the airbase's defenses, setting about their work with grim efficiency. Hundred-pound bombs tore apart the lightly defended positions, quickly silencing them for the loss of only a single bomber. Others targeted the fuel and ammo storage, the fires from their work burning well into the night.

In the nearby harbor, chaos rained as bombs fell on the ships moored there. A fully loaded minelayer to a direct hit to its stern, the resulting explosion obliterating both it and it's neighbors: A second minelayer and a destroyer.

A light cruiser made a break for the harbor entrance, attracting the attention of several bombers. Two bombs missed its stern by mere inches, but the underwater explosions jammed its rudder hard to port. The circling ship was defenseless as the rest of the formation pounced on it. Quickly struck by four more bombs that wrecked its machinery, the cruiser rolled over and sank.

The last German bombers were only then departing the area when the next wave arrived, twenty four Fairey Swordfish looking to finish what their compatriots had started. Skimming along the waves to release their torpedoes, half of them quickly added two more cruisers and several destroyers to the day's tally as others bombed the tank farms. All told the attack lasted barely an hour, in which time Iceland had been rendered completely ineffective as a forward base. For now, at least.

Further north, what fighters remained in Greenland had climbed into the sky, racing southeast to protect what was left of Iceland's forces from further attacks. As they dipped over the horizon, another force came in from the west.

Corsair fighters armed with rockets and five hundred pound bombs descended upon the undefended airfield as a far smaller number of torpedo bombers vectored in on the fleet anchored of the coast. Scores of Abyssal heavy bombers were torn apart on the ground the fighters descended on the airbase unopposed.

Meanwhile in the harbor, the bombers caught a lucky break as they spotted a pair of battleships sitting off the coast. Despite ferocious flak that downed four of the attackers, the first battleship soon shuddered under the impact of four torpedoes before rolling over. Itssibling settled on the harbor's bottom minutes later as two torpedo hits broke its keel. By the time the strike force was done, a heavy cruiser and an entire flotilla of destroyers would join it at the bottom.

Far to the south, six allied carriers collected their squadrons, smiling and joking as they began to make their way back to Scapa Flow.

---

"Two battleships, a heavy cruiser, three light cruisers, and over a dozen destroyers…" KGV read down the list compiled from the various after-action reports.

"With another seventy-five to one hundred and ten aircraft destroyed on the ground." Courageous added with a smirk. "I'd say that raid qualifies as bloody spectacular." The rest of the carriers present burst out in laughter and applause, even the normally stoic Graf Zeppelin joining in with a quick whistle. At the back of the room, Hood and Wales traded much more subdued smiles.

KG nodded, a thin smile on her face as the room settled down. "I believe it is. Thanks to your efforts, we've had our first undisputed success in long time and a major threat to our convoys has been cut off at the knees. Good work to all of you, and enjoy an evening off as a reward for your success today. Dismissed." As one, the gaggle of carriers broke for the door, racing each other to the bases bar.

Following behind them, Hood closed the door before turning back to KG. "Well done." She said with a smile as she walked back towards the front of the room. "Cunningham and Lyster would be proud."

"Hermes deserves more credit than I do. Without her teachings, we'd be relearning the same painful lessons from the last war. All I had to do was tell them where to hit. We didn't even get the targets we wanted."

"We'll get them another time." Hood replied. "Iceland and Greenland are neutralized for the time being. With their main airbases on those two islands out of commission, our subs will be able to push deeper into their territory. We'll celebrate our current victory tonight, and begin planning for our next one tomorrow."

---

"It seems we were right to place our assets with you." Iceland told her sister as they watch the fleet exercises taking place in the Canadian Arctic. Frowning as she looked back down at her charred dress. "The British reacted to our new allies far sooner than Greenland or myself expected."

"Even before we revealed our secret weapons, you two were too big of a threat to be left alone." The Hudson Bay Princess responded. "You could threaten the main installations and global economy without sending a single ship out, never mind the axe you dangled over their supply lines. This attack was only a matter of time."

Iceland nodded, taking another look at the four battleships and four battlecruisers practicing their gunnery in the bay. "I see you've been busy recruiting."

A sly smirk spread across Hudson's face. "The loss of her stepsister seems to have firmly driven Mackensen even further to our side, and with her help I was able to draw the rest of her class to us."

"We won't be able to support another sortie for them for sometime though."

"Yes, the English saw to that." Hudson continued, gazing off to the Horizon. "But this will just lull them into complacency and give us time to build a fleet worthy of our new allies. By the time we'll be done, Britain will be on their knees and Europe will be plunged into chaos."

 

[Jrandom]

I like how the Tornados were employed in their primary mission profile, supersonic low-level strike, and how well their Durandels did their job. A Hudson Bay Princess? That's got all sorts ugly, nasty, and messy written all over it!

 

[Spectre]

I like how the Tornados were employed in their primary mission profile, supersonic low-level strike, and how well their Durandels did their job. A Hudson Bay Princess? That's got all sorts ugly, nasty, and messy written all over it!

Click to shrink...

that actually was a bit of a pain in the ass to write since all the anti-runway ordinance the RAF had was phased out already (technically so were the Tornadoes, but that was only earlier this year rather than a decade ago.)

 

[Jrandom]

that actually was a bit of a pain in the ass to write since all the anti-runway ordinance the RAF had was phased out already (technically so were the Tornadoes, but that was only earlier this year rather than a decade ago.)

Click to shrink...

The RAF IDS Tornados were pretty spectacular in action. During a training exercise in Grafenwoher, I saw a flight of them pass over at 50 feet, with their wings fully swept, fully loaded, flying at better than Mach 1.2

 

[Suryn]

That fight 1 snip ago doesn't ring right to me. 2 Battlecruisers suffer almost no damage in short range from fire from battleships? Then their return they do crippling damage? The next exchange the Battlehsips do some damage but barely any, and the battlescruisers completely knock them out of the fight? Just how?