Changing Destiny (Kancolle)

[MagisterAurelius]

Part 3 of Wichita's Whoops I Did It Again

------------------------------------------
Norfolk - on board USS Wichita


Captain Michael Mullins of the USS Wichita was not having a good morning. It was only 0800 hours, he had just gotten his coffee and was now faced with a riot aboard his ship. Or so his XO and Chief Petty Officer McNeill had duly informed him of.

"A riot? Among the enlisted rates? Over...the misplacement of racy photographs. And per said enlisted and the chaplain, a young woman suddenly appeared shouting it was her fault?" Mullins' voice chilled in frosty rage. "Please tell me that this is simply a mass hallucination from a joke with the coffee taken too far. I can punish that within the bounds of military justice. But for the watch to not even notice a civilian running around the ship all night.... I will have to go to the admirals to allow me to keelhaul whoever is responsible!"

The XO visibly paled but he was preempted by CPO McNeill, "Captain, every sailor aboard knows that to mess with the coffee will result in one's body parts being used as ammunition for the main battery." The chief petty officer, who between his jutting lantern jaw and massive forearms bore a striking resemblance to Popeye, shifted slightly and warily continued. "Furthermore Cap'n, this woman claims to be USS Wichita."

"Chief McNeill, I find it impossible to believe that MY ship has been pawing through the belongings of its crew or appearing as a young woman. This is obviously a very badly considered prank and I will find and deal with the perpetrator. But first I want that woman off my ship. Take the Sergeant At Arms and remove her." Captain Mullins stood up from his bridge chair. "I will be watching."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Umm... I don't think this will work. You can't remove the ship from the ship because then the ship would be outside the ship and … " Chief McNeill sighed as he and the Sergeant at Arms, followed by the chaplain and the enlisted men, frog marched the girl towards the gangplank to the pier.

"Look lass, be a good girl and go home to your parents will you. And don't let some poor idiot convince you to come aboard again. The Cap'n is out for his hide you can be sure, so if you don't want him to lose his career don't come back." As they approach the gangplank with each having a hand on Wichita's shoulders they guided her to the ramp and gently tried to push her onto the gangplank.

Key word being tried. Upon the edge of the deck, Wichita proceeded not a single inch off her hull. A silent throng of sailors watched on as the two men grunted with effort and pushed on Wichita with their full strength. And had the same results one would experience pushing a brick wall. The silence was broken by the rapid approach of Captain Mullins.

"I'm not laughing chief" roared Mullins as he burst between sailors to stop at the two men, "This...pantomime is not funny. An Act of Congress may have gotten you those stripes but I will by God have them removed from you!"

He must not be able to see me. And he seems to be really angry. How can I make him see...Oh I know! Wichita concentrated, tapped into her powerplant and used her horsepower to lift her arms in the air with both chiefs suddenly hanging on with their feet off her deck.

The watching crew gasped, the chaplain Kinburn crossed himself and muttered prayers, and the two chiefs looked at their captain. Who continued to look on with anger and disbelief.

"I don't know how you wired yourselves up but this prank has gone too far. There. Is. Nothing. There."

Captain Mullins advanced to a spot just in front of the supposed blank space in between the two chiefs and thrust his hand into the gap.

For his hand to stop on something soft. And in a terrible moment that seemed to take hours Captain Mullins saw his hand on the modest but perky bosom of a teen-aged girl. Her grey dress flattered her curves and her platinum blond hair was restrained by a navy blue hairband. The short bob cut of her hair framed the face with eyes of amethyst, lips a shade of dusty rose, and freckles over her cheeks. Cheeks that were flushing red and eyes that flashed with rising anger and embarrassment at him.

"Captain, please move your hand... otherwise I might have to kick you."

Captain Mullins jerked his hand back as if bitten by a snake. "This is not possible.... the coffee... it has to be a hallucination!"

"I am USS Wichita and I..." Wichita's attention shifted to the two chiefs she held, "I'm sorry!" She lowered the chiefs to the deck and let go of them.

"So, yes, I am USS Wichita and I'm so happy that you can see me now. It will be so much easier to help you all now!"

Captain Mullins, focused on the skyline behind the girl before him, could only croak in a hoarse whisper, "I'm in hell."

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So yes, Wichita looks like Sabrina from the Archie comics, there is no way in heck did she look anything like the Warship Girls version in my mind. Now she just needs a black kitten....

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Since I managed to get annoyed earlier, this took longer than I wanted. But have a short little crack snip, before I get...cracking...on the next chapter.

---

Admiral Thompson held a hand over his eyes, covering them from the harsh glare of a winter day. Bremerton was colder than he could ever remember it being, as he strode along the gangplank up to Saratoga's hull. A hull that bore the signs of his efforts...five-inch guns replacing her eight-inch turrets. A widened flight deck. And many, many anti-aircraft guns. All of them things he had suggested, and all of them a sign that Sara was finished with her lengthy refit.

It's good to see though. Lord knows she'll need all of this and more.

Sighing softly, the young Admiral's shoes clanked against metal, as he entered into the carrier's hull. A few of his old crew greeted him, nodding and snapping to attention until he waved them off. They were nice to see, after the politics of Washington. But they weren't who he really wanted to see. No, that was one person.

"Sara?"

A person he called out for, as he entered his old quarters. Much as the ship had changed on the outside, these had not changed at all. There was the same small cot. The desk, a bit beaten up with scratch marks that he knew by heart, had not changed. If anything, it looked identical to how it always had.

"Admiral?"

That was not.

Thompson felt a tackle against his side, as Sara's familiar voice echoed in his ear.

What in the world?

And it was the only thing familiar about her, as he looked down. It was far from the first time that Sara had hugged his arm. She craved physical contact after all. But the valley between her...stack...was a bit larger than he remembered.

Well.

A lot bigger than he had remembered. Sara's grip on him pressed his arm into something that was every bit as big as the stack behind her island, and very, very soft and warm. Even behind the blue dress she wore, nothing like the white uniform he was so familiar with.

"Sara...what in the world happened to you?" Thompson sucked in a breath, doing his utmost not to focus on where his arm was. Instead, he looked into Sara's very grey eyes. "I...this...wha..."

He wasn't even able to form a coherent sentence!

Naturally, Sara herself just tilted her head, a bright smile on her face, "You noticed?"

"Of course I did!" The Admiral resisted the urge to plant his free hand on his face. "You're...uh..."

How to say this delicately...

"A lot bigger now."

Foot. Meet mouth.

Sara looked down at where her breasts met Thompson's arm, raising a single very reddish-brown eyebrow. "I...am?"

Electing not to answer that question- what self-preservation instincts he had left kept the Admiral from even thinking of it -Thompson, instead, reached his free hand out to rub at Sara's hair.

Hair that was completely exposed, save for one bit covered by- and sticking out of -a miniature version of her actual stack. The old officer's cap was gone. The blue headdress...was gone. It had been replaced by that...strangely cute...little stack. At least the black streak was still in her hair, sticking out like smoke trailing from her funnels. But the rest of her hair...

Was very, very reddish-brown. Not a hint of blue in sight.

"And your hair is a completely different color," Thompson continued, rubbing the strands between his fingers. The carrier letting out a happy little noise, as she leaned into the touch...and pushed herself more against the man.

Well, that hadn't worked.

"Not to mention what you're wearing."

That was enough to get Sara to open up her grey eyes, staring up at the Admiral curiously. Eyes that were nothing at all like the green he remembered...even if they were still Sara's. The expressions behind them were exactly like he remembered, no matter the change in color.

Though her red-rimmed glasses made it a bit harder to tell.

"Well, this is the biggest refit I've ever had, Admiral," Sara spoke matter-of-factly, looking down on her dress. The dark blue fabric clung to her much more tightly than her old outfit, falling down until her thighs, where it billowed out like waves on the sea. "A little change of pace is nice!"

Considering that the outfit hugged each and every single curve of her body like the lean form of a battlecruiser- and he should know, he just saw Hood not that long ago -Thompson was...

Nope. No. I am not going there. Nope.

"I...guess. I just don't remember you ever looking like this before," the Admiral coughed lightly, resisting the urge to stare down on the much more mature looking carrier clinging to his arm. "You always looked about the same, actually."

Sara could only shrug her shoulders, her now-sleeveless arms rubbing against the Admiral's side. "I don't know sir, but I like this look. Don't you?"

And as she asked that, the carrier turned those bright sea-grey eyes up at her Admiral.

And pouted.

"I...well..." Thompson felt his mouth go dry at that look, completely unprepared for the full broadside of a battlecruiser-turned-carrier. It didn't help that she shifted around in those new red garters, clinging closer to the time-traveler.

Since when was Sara so damn forward about things?

Right, since she started looking completely different.

Dumb question.

"Admiral?" Sara asked again, her voice shaking a little. The pout only grew in intensity, as she looked up at him with wide eyes behind the new glasses. Strands of black hair fell from her stack, framing a pretty face that wanted an answer and wouldn't take no for said answer.

Thompson could only sigh, his free hand patting Sara on the head gently. There wasn't really any other answer he could give, was there?

"I do, yes." The young Admiral rubbed Sara's head, knowing she would like it. Her new...well, it didn't fit to call it a ponytail, but her tied back hair? It ran along his fingers, the feeling the same, if not the way it looked.

Which really was the case with everything here, wasn't it? The carrier purring by his side- purring?! -was the same one he had always known. She just...looked different.

A lot different.

"Thank you, Admiral..."

But as he soft voice whispered that, she was still the same Saratoga he had always known. The one who was his closest friend in the entire world, now. And even if she looked a bit different, nothing would change that. Why would it? She was still Sara. She was still his carrier, and that hadn't changed at all.

Other than the fact she was tugging him to his cot.

Why was she...

"Sara?" Thompson asked, voice dry again. And maybe a bit panicky.

The carrier just looked up at him with a wide and happy smile, "Because I want to talk to you again!"

Oh.

Oh...

Well, at least it wasn't anything like that.

...right...?

---

Remember...

I have no real intention of retconning Sara's design again.

This, however, does not mean I cannot have fun with KC!Sara

Spoiler: For those curious

 

[MagisterAurelius]

Some more of Wichita's Whoops I Did It Again.

So to help re-rail the train a bit.... have a small bit I've been working on that thankfully occurs in the future.
There may be a bit more of this later....

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Early March 1942, somewhere near Iceland in the North Atlantic

For the first time on this god-forsaken patrol I actually feel warm. And slept well. So went the early morning thoughts of Captain Mullins as consciousness slowly took hold from blissful sleep. Better get up... what the? The initial attempt to stir thwarted, his eyes opened and felt the deep throaty purring from something sleeping on him.

Huh. Must be that cat the crew gave to Wichita on that last Caribbean patrol... Mullins next attempt to rise from the bed was interrupted and his eyes widened as a large spotted paw reached across his field of vision. Two inch claws extended, then retracted in a kneading action into the Captain's pillow; cutting through the sturdy cotton as if it were no more than diaphanous silk. Mullins' motion had also interrupted the purring which had now become a low and annoyed growl. Shit! Big Kitty!

-0-

early 1941, Caracas

"I am not in favor of pets aboard U.S. Navy warships Seaman Burke." Captain Mullins frowned. "They are a distraction to duty and efficiency of the crew at sea."

"No sir, not for the crew. I meant giving Wichita a cat would certainly give her something to do and keep her from getting bored."

"That is an inspired suggestion Seaman Burke." Mullins felt his first cheerful mood since he first met his so very earnest and eager cruisers' female form. "One rule, the bridge and battle bridge are cat free zones and Wichita is responsible for it." Damn, today is turning out to be a great day. "Oh and Seaman Burke... excellent thinking. I'll keep it mind next promotion board time." A house cat can't be much trouble and as long as it keeps Wichita out of my hair...

-o-
the next day

"What do you mean that's the only cat they have?" Seaman Burke's face had the expression of a man contemplating a promised promotion suddenly wrenched away. "I know that the Cap is expecting a normal house cat. Not this."

"This ain't a Norfolk pet store Burke." Burke's friend Seaman Graves shrugged at it all. "At least I didn't get the jaguar."

-0-
and back to Iceland

"AHHHH!!! GET OFF!!!"

Outside the Captain's Quarters Chaplain Kinburn's hand paused before knocking on the door. The rising decibels of the ruckus inside brought forth groggy heads from officer berths down the hall.

Thunk. The sound of flesh hitting bulkhead was followed a series of loud exclamations. "OW.... SUNOVA... OW.... wait, don't you DARE....no...NO....nooOOOOO...GOD DAMMIT!"
Kinburn was knocked to the deck as the door flew open by the force of the streaking fleeing ocelot and the enraged Captain Mullins. Kinburn's eyes then began to water and his nose attempted extraction from his face from the malodorous stench emanating from the Captain's room. Whose bellow echoed throughout the ship's below decks, "WI-CHI-TA!!!!!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Yeah....it says something about Wichita's dedication to her kitty that it took this long for something to happen to the Captain.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

And the aforementioned double feature.

This is intentionally short.

@Old Iron hopefully will like it.

---

"Heeeeyyyy! Sara!"

A wide smile crossed Saratoga's face, when she heard that voice calling out to her. A voice she had become quite familiar with, in the time she spent helping her beloved Admiral. But one she hadn't heard in...quite some time. Too long, in her opinion.

"Ari, I see you're finally done...refitting."

Sara's own voice trailed off, however, when she looked out at the once familiar battleship.

"I am! Do you like it?" Ari didn't seem to notice the hesitation, bless her heart. Despite the distance, Sara could see the bright smile on the battleship's face, as she spun around in her new outfit.

The blue overcoat was the same, but her skirt was both longer and a deep red against her legs. And her tunic had been replaced by a deep grey dress shirt, that stretched over her modest- and noticeably larger -bust.

At least her smiling face, brown eyes, and short red hair were the same?

"It's...very nice." Sara's own face smiled, her green eyes sparkling when she looked over the battleship. "I see that they gave you quite a lot of anti-aircraft guns?"

Ari nodded excitedly, looking over her hull, where men were busy training with the new weapons, "They did! Admiral Willson wanted me to have more guns, and he pulled some strings. They're just Chicago Pianos, but…"

Just Pianos, maybe, but Sara's eyes trailed over mounts bristling over Ari, more anti-air guns than any battleship she had seen before covering the woman. Sara might have been jealous, if her own Admiral weren't doing much the same for her. And she could carry more guns anyway.

Besides…

"Well, I for one am glad you're happy," Sara's smile widened, at the joyful expression on her old friend's face. "And maybe this will help, when you need it."

One could hope. There was no way to say for sure when the attack would happen, or anything like that. But…

"I hope so too," Arizona's voice was marginally more subdued, as she pulled the old cap she always wore over her eyes. But she still had good cheer, when she spoke again. "After all, I trust Admiral Thompson! He know's what he's talking about after all, right Sara?"

Ever so slight twinge of jealousy aside, Sara nodded, "He does. I trust him with my life, as I'm sure you do."

Arizona returned the nod, "Of course. After all, he is the first one to talk to me. I can't pay him back for that, but I can trust him at least."

Both of them, battleship and carrier, shared that at least. A trust for the first man to ever talk to them, the one who cared enough to risk his own career- and possibly his life -to try everything he could to help them. The man who did everything in his power to talk to them...even if it was just about inane things.

There were some things that every ship cherished. And the one that was quickly moving to the top of that list? Being able to talk to someone. It was why Sara, despite a pain in her heart, smiled at Ari. "We both feel the same way, Arizona."

She couldn't be angry, her own feelings aside. Ari deserved to be happy, and in the end, that was what mattered. She was Sister Sara. Every ship in the navy was like a sister, to her.

"But I think you know him better than I do, Sara," Arizona's voice was still cheerful though, when she started waving over at the carrier. "So you need to talk to him! I think you know why!"

And now she was blushing brighter than Arizona's hair, bright green eyes staring out at the battleship.

"Wha---what?!" Sara's voice cracked, as she rushed to her railing, staring at the grinning Ari. Not even caring about her short skirt rustling in the wind.

"I knew it!" Ari just grinned at her, pumping her fist in the air. "Pennsy was right! Come on, Sara, be happy! You have an Admiral who loves you after all."

All Sara could do was stare at Ari, her face going progressively more and more red.

...but a smile still crossing it. If Admiral Thompson was right about his Ari…

She deserved this, even if it flustered the carrier. Ari deserved to have a good life.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

And, a little side jump to see how Utah is doing. Been long enough since she's shown up.

---

"Smoke, Utah?"

Smiling softly, USS Utah shook her head. Her long grey hair fell around her agelessly beautiful face, while she looked at the man beside her. She was the oldest battleship left in the Navy, but her Engineer looked every bit her senior. His grizzled face was staring at her over a lit cigarette, as he held out another towards her.

"Suit yourself," Joe Jackson shrugged, replacing the smoke in its box. His tone may have been gruff, but there was a certain fondness to it as well.

"I don't know what smoking would do, Joseph." Utah's smile didn't fade, even with another shake of her head. "Certainly I don't need to give you more work."

A grunt answered her. Her newly promoted Captain leaned back against her turret- or what was left of it -and shrugged. He acted uncaring, perhaps, though it was just that. An act. Utah couldn't help but fondly smile at him. The man tried too hard to maintain the image of a detached commander, mostly for the benefit of her tiny crew. When they were alone...well, suffice to say there was a reason she called him by his name.

"Ya don't know that." His grumbling was muffled somewhat by the cigarette in his mouth. It didn't hide the small smile. "Nice to know ya care, Utah. Always was a challenge keepin those old boilers running. Andy's a good kid, but he don't know you like I do."

Smile widening, Utah leaned against her Captain and shrugged. His broad shoulder, for all that he was shorter than she was, was easily capable of holding her up. And, to be honest, she was a bit like her daughter.

"I like this, though," the grey-haired battleship-turned-target softly spoke. Her head pillowed on her Captain's shoulder. "Being able to talk to you like this. Touching you like this. I always dreamed of it."

Jackson looked away, his scarred face refusing to look at the woman beside him. "Yeah, yeah. What's gotten into ya?"

Utah shrugged again, "Nothing really."

It wasn't really true. As her hull was being refit beneath her, Utah felt her mortality more than ever. The new guns were nice...but they were another reminder of her diminishing utility to the Navy. Even her new life as a target and trainer would only last so long. It was why she was so happy to be with her Captain and engineer. It couldn't last forever, but she wanted to make the most of it.

And continue to do what I can to save Arizona and the others.

Sighing, Utah brushed her arm against her Captain. Jackson grumbled again, and moved his arm enough so that she could wrap her own around it.

"Thank you for all of this, Joseph. It means more than you know."

This time, the grizzled old officer turned his head and directly smiled at Utah. It was a small one. But it was progress!

"Nah, thank you. Once this all gets out, the Navy may keep ya around. An old dog like me doesn't have a place on a new ship. You're home, Utah." Jackson scratched his chin, running his finger along one of the myriad of scars. Utah still hadn't gotten a straight answer out of the man...on where those came from. "Well, and a good friend. Pretty gal too."

A flush crossed Utah's face, as she squeezed the man's arm. "Please, I'm an old girl. Arizona is much more attractive than I am."

"Maybe," the officer shrugged. "But she ain't you. Now is she?"

If Utah had been bright red before, her face flushed yet further now. Tears misted in her eyes, as she smiled a watery smile. Even the twinge of men working at fixing old aches and scars through her hull faded a bit. Times like this she cherished, so very dearly. To find a man who cared so much about her was--was--well, it meant more than words could ever explain.

"As long as the Navy wants me, I'll be here, Joseph." Utah clung closer to her Captain, as he flicked his cigarette over the side of her hull. It landed far below, at the bottom of the drydock she rested in. In the distance, Saratoga was visible undergoing her own long-delayed refit. "I'll be here for you, and for my daughters."

Jackson snorted softly, "Daughters. Don't understand why you consider the battleships that, but eh. Who am I to judge."

Utah just smiled, and looked out at the distant carrier. Arizona had left some time ago, returning to Pearl. It was just Utah and the carrier now, for large ships. The carrier that had started all of this, with her time-traveling Admiral. The man who had given her everything.

"To be completely honest, I'm not their mother." There was an ever so slight hint of sadness in Utah's voice. A small tightening of her grip on her Captain. "That was South Carolina, my own mother. But with her gone...with my big sisters gone..."

Looking up at her Admiral, Utah's watery smile grew in strength. She drew her strength from the man by her side.

"I'm the oldest, and I do love them all like daughters. Arizona, Nevada, New York, New Mexico, Colorado...they're all like my beloved children. I'll do anything and everything for them. No matter what it is."

The Captain rolled his eyes, but smiled as he reached a free hand to ruffle Utah's long grey hair. The battleship, so much older than her looks showed, leaned into the touch. Her eyes were old but her soul still clung to little actions like this.

"Well, it ain't my place to judge that. Do what ya have to do, Utah, and we'll fix you right up after it. That's our job innit?" The scarred officer smiled at the battleship, as she clung to his side.

And Utah smiled back, looking at the rising sun as she thought about the future. She knew it would be trying and that she was unlikely to survive. It didn't matter.

She would continue doing everything she could to save her daughters, come what may. She would do everything in her power and more. And if, in the end, she still perished? She would die with a smile on her face as the rest survived and continued on without her. Like any proud parent would.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Omake: Sisters​

"Sis!"

Sometimes, Blücher just let herself be a child. These times were often when she was with her Admiral- who honestly was more a father to her -or with her sisters. This case was one of the latter, though the sister in question was one she had only seen in passing before. Eugen was with Bismarck in the Atlantic and Hipper was returning from a trip to Norway. That left just one sister in Germany for her to talk to.

"Bl...Blücher?" A sister who sounded completely confused, when she responded.

She could be forgiven for that, considering she had never left port and wasn't very familiar with her sisters. Yet!

"Of course I am! Can't you tell by the turrets?" Blücher put as much good cheer into her voice as she could, a wide grin crossing her face when she saw the look her Captain sent her out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't her fault she had to perch herself atop her conning tower to see the port properly!

"I've never seen your turrets any different, sister."

With a pout now taking shape, Blücher sent sad violet eyes at her sister. She knew her sister couldn't see her, but she did it anyway. "Seydlitz! You're my sister, you should know these things!"

"Sorry...?" While Blücher could no more see her sister than her sister could see her, she had a good idea of what to expect with those words.

A confused expression under brown eyes. Light, sandy brown hair that fell in front of her eyes out of her loose ponytail. A youthful face that had yet to see any battle. A girl wearing a uniform just like her own, on a slimmer body. After all, she was Blücher's little sister so they had to share uniforms. And she was originally a light cruiser, so she would be slimmer.

It made perfect sense!

"Ah, don't worry about it sis." Rolling her eyes slightly, Blücher sat down atop her conning tower, as her hull pulled into dock next to her sister. Men were visible swarming over her hull, continuing to work at getting the new cruiser ready for battle. It was only a matter of time, at this rate. "I'm just happy to see you."

"I'm glad to see you too, sister." Seydlitz was always so prim and proper when she spoke.

On the one hand, it made it difficult to talk with her.

On the other, Blücher was well aware she was like that at first too. Before her Admiral had talked with her. They were young, her and Seydlitz. Without anyone to talk to and without any experience to work with, they...just didn't have the time to develop.

Though I can change that!

Smiling at the thought, Blücher turned to look at her sister again. "Hey, Seydlitz. Want to hear a story?"

"A story? About what?" Seydlitz actually sounded interested, and Blücher could imagine her sister pulling herself up to look at her.

It brought a wide smile to her face, "Oh, nothing much. Just how my Admiral and I took an entire British convoy!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
​

The story that Blücher told her sister took most of the remaining daylight. Neither sister cared. Blücher didn't care, because she could talk to her sister. Seydlitz didn't care, because she had someone who loved her to talk to. Both of them just enjoyed the sound of the other's voice.

"Hey...sister." At the end of the story, Seydlitz spoke up with a question.

"What is it?" Blücher was more than happy to answer.

Silence answered her, though, before her sister managed to rally her thoughts. "Do you think we will serve together? Like this?"

"Hm...I don't see why not!"

Blücher would like nothing more than to serve with her sister. Any of her sisters, to be completely honest. There was just something about sailing in formation with someone exactly like her--it felt right. Any cruiser probably felt that way. That being said...

"I would like that." Seydlitz's voice was quiet, but carried the impression of a small smile.

....Blücher would like serving with this sister, more than any others. Admiral Schreiber had told her about his Seydlitz. A girl who was never completed. Torn apart to be made a carrier, and left to rot before the Soviets put her out of her misery. She had never come back from that, not completely. The very first thing her Admiral had done, after returning from Norway, had been to use her example to push for the completion of Seydlitz.

He had said he wouldn't let that happen again. He had promised her that she wouldn't have to see that happen to her sister.​

"I'll talk to the Admiral when I see him again, then," Blücher pushed that thought to the back of her mind, focusing instead of grinning and putting happiness into her voice. "We'll be together if I have anything to say about it!"

Seydlitz, the ship, seemed to vibrate at her pier for just a second. It probably scared her workcrew senseless, but it just made Blücher giggle a bit. Her sister was happy!

"I'm glad," Seydlitz confirmed that thought, with genuine happiness in her voice. "Do you think we can see Lützow too?"

And, just as suddenly as that, the smile fell off Blücher's face. Did Seydlitz not know?

I can't blame her for asking, when Lützow was her sister. Her complete sister. But...I don't want to tell her. Who knows what the Soviets are doing to her, especially if they ever find out about what we are...

Clearing her throat, Blücher forced the wobble out of her voice, "Erm, Seydlitz. You do know that she was given to the Soviets...right?"

There was no response, other than an embarrassed burst of smoke from the other cruiser's stack. Blücher didn't need to see her sister to know that she was flushed from that. Maybe she had forgotten.

"S--sorry, sister. I just...Blücher...you know she was going to be just like me." Seydlitz's voice was subdued and quiet. Completely quiet.

Blücher knew that. And she knew that their sister was also never going to be completed. That she was going to be forced to fight Germany. She couldn't- she wouldn't -tell Seydlitz that.

"Don't worry about it, sis!" Instead, Blücher cheerfully waved over at the other cruiser's hull. Her pink hair was blown back in a gust of wind, as she struck a pose for her sister's benefit. "I'm sure she'll be just fine. 'sides, the sooner you can get finished, the sooner we can get this war over. Then we can see her again!"

"Y--yeah. You're right, sister. As soon as I can sail, I can help end the war. And then meet our other sisters." Seydlitz wasn't quite back to where she was, but the sadness was gone from her voice. At the least.

Her sister would take that. "Good! Now, how about I tell you some more stories?"

"I'd like that. Maybe one about Eugen this time?"

"No problem!" Blücher settled back down, content to spend her time with her sister like this. Telling her stories and getting to know her.

---

Anyone who reads Indy, knows what I'm referencing with Seydlitz.

At any rate...sisters getting to know each other. Like I said, tonally this didn't fit with the chapter, so omake. Wanted to write it though. As for Lützow...not going to say anything else on her.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Interlude: Force Z​

"It is so bloody hot!"

HMS Repulse's complaint went unnoticed and unheard. Not that it particularly mattered to her, mind, because she was too busy mopping sweat from her face. Even in her skimpy 'uniform', she was feeling the heat of the South Pacific beating down on her. The sun hadn't faded one bit during the day and even the nights were muggy as all hell. For someone used to the cold showers of the North Sea, it was quite an adjustment to make!

It didn't help that Wales was happy as a clam, sunbathing on her deck. Or that Glorious was too busy herding their escorting destroyers to pay attention to her. So annoying!

"Oh stop complaining, Repulse. I know you're an old lady, but that doesn't mean you need to ruin it for everyone else." Wales was insufferable as ever. It didn't matter to her that Repulse had sunk a German battleship, no sir, she was an old lady and Wales was the brand new battleship. "Be happy we're in the tropics why don't ya."

Repulse scowled, and turned her head away from the offending battleship. "Such a child I swear to god..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Repulse ground out, crossing her arms across her chest. Normally she would be the one doing the teasing. But the heat was getting to her. She hadn't liked it the first time, she didn't like it now.

I'd take the North Sea any day.

But since Hood was being pampered in the 'states and big sis Renown was needed to replace her in the Atlantic, it came down to Repulse to show the flag in the Pacific. And that's what she was doing too! She wasn't even coming here to fight, just to make the Japanese go home!

"Repulse...go easy on her, please. We shouldn't fight each other." Glorious was the voice of reason. Repulse could almost see the blonde carrier gently shaking her head, a frown on her face.

A frown mimicked on Repulse's, as she looked out at the old carrier. Glorious was like a younger sister to her once. And now she was so much more...serious than she used to be. Losing Courageous had done that to her. They'd all lost someone in this war, except for Wales. Lucky battleship that she was.

"I'll stop messing with her," the battlecruiser finally rolled her eyes, turning back to walk into her hull. "If she leaves me alone..."

That last bit was under her breath, as the battlecruiser ducked around a member of her crew. Her eyes followed the man as he ran to his duty station, completely ignoring her existence. At one point, that wouldn't really have bothered her. Oh sure, when she was younger she might have complained. All ships did. But she had grown out of that and, instead, made up for her time by teasing the ever-loving hell out of the rest of the Royal Navy.

Now?

Well, now she knew it was possible to talk to her crew. Rumors from across the pond made that very clear, even if Captain Tennant most assuredly didn't show any signs of acknowledging it. Repulse's eye twitched at the thought. It wasn't like she blended in!

Adjusting her small and very revealing top, the battlecruiser grumbled under her breath. "You'd think a sailor would have noticed me by now!"

As one walked right through her, shaking with a sudden chill, Repulse was forced to admit she may be going about things the wrong way. Grumbling some more, she changed course to her old bridge.

At least I don't have one of those ugly towers. Sis doesn't even like it!

With a small smile on her face at the memory of Renown complaining about her 'overweight pile of scrap pretending to be a hat', Repulse walked onto her own bridge. Little changed since she had been launched, it was crowded with sailors and officers going about their duties. Captain Tennant was at the fore, reading from reports with a cup of tea precariously balanced in one hand.

"Never let anything get in the way of tea time, eh Captain?" Repulse's XO had an amused smirk on his face.

An expression mirrored on the Captain, as he ever so slowly took a sip of his tea. "Quite."

Fighting her own smile, Repulse tossed a lazy salute at her Captain, "I salute you, sir, for your admirable dedication to the traditions of the Roy--al--"

Unable to finish her sentence, the battlecruiser collapsed into helpless giggles. No one showed any sign of hearing it, of course, but it felt good. The heat was suffocating and Wales was even more insufferable, but at least Repulse could find humor in her Captain and crew. Small miracles, yeah?

"At any rate," Captain Tennant set his teacup down, holding the paper out instead. His eyes trailed over- and through -Repulse before settling on her XO. His face was a serious mask, no sign of the good humor left. "I'm sure we'll all wish we could have normal tea time, soon enough."

"Captain?"

That question came from the battlecruiser and her XO. In any other situation, it would be amusing.

Not so now, as Captain Tennant continued, "Report from Singapore. Yanks got hammered. Japs hit them hard at Pearl and Manila. It's the expectation of our naval staff--" Here, Tennant scowled deeply. His eyes twitching over to Prince of Wales. "--that Malaya is next. Or the Dutch. There is no chance that the Japs aren't going to go for the East Indies if they hit the Americans. There's nothing in the Philippines worth taking compared to those oil fields."

"...so we can't expect them to come sailing to Singapore, can we?" The younger officer paled, his face turning a decidedly sickly shade.

"Frankly, I don't think we could have expected that no matter what happened," Tennant didn't snort, though it was a close run thing. "Bloody hell, you expect the Yanks to sail all the way across the Pacific to use our base?"

That had been the expectation when Force Z was formed...

"No, the only support from them will be that Asiatic Fleet and maybe an expediting of Hood's repairs."

Repulse felt a chill entirely unbecoming of the South Pacific wash across her. Not that the Japanese scared her, compared to the Germans they were amateurs who had old ships. But because of the fact that it was only her, Wales, Glorious and a few destroyers and cruisers. The Dutch weren't going to be any help.

"Glorious...ya hear that?" Repulse opened a line to the nearby carrier, her eyes watching as a squadron of Sea Hurricanes took to the air.

"...I did." Was the short, and to the point, reply.

"What do you think we're sailing into?"

Silence, before a heavy sigh.

"Exactly what sank my big sister. A hornet's nest."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
​

A few hours later, with darkness providing cover for Force Z, Repulse paced in her Captain's cabin. Her short skirt swished with each sway of her broad battlecruiser hips. Her stockings had long since been discarded in the heat, leaving her lean legs bare as she brushed against the fabric of her Captain's bunk. She didn't even notice.

"What are we going to do now?" The battlecruiser groaned, as she flopped down on that bed. Her bright blue eyes stared at her Captain, as the man took over pacing for her.

"We should reinforce Singapore first," Captain Tennant muttered under his breath. The man rubbed his chin idly, looking at a large map spread over his desk. "But after that...will we try to hit the Japs when they go for Malaya?"

There was no question in his voice, or Repulse's mind, that the Japanese were going to try to land in Malaya. Singapore was too much of a threat to ignore. The question wasn't if they would, but where they would and if it was possible to cut them off. Considering how far out Force Z was from Singapore...

"No, we can't get there quick enough." Tennant shook his head, his hand dropping to his side. "If we can't cut them off, we may as well keep going on and support the Yanks and Dutch." There was more than a hint of frustration in his voice at that idea.

Repulse just sighed. It wasn't like she wasn't used to playing second-fiddle, as it were. "It's not like that is anything new! Bloody Yanks always getting the last laugh."

Why yes, she was a bit bitter still a bit bitter about the Americans taking so long to get off their arse. Twice!

"Frankly, I just want to go home. This is a waste of our time. Just watch India!"

Captain Tennant made no signs of hearing Repulse, as he looked over the map again. "Java...or Singapore...or the Philippines. If it were me, I would suggest Java. If we can hold the Japs in the East Indies they can't support an offensive in Malaya anyway."

"Why don't we just let Glorious handle things then?" Repulse asked the room at large, rolling her eyes as she fell back on the bed. Her sweaty mop of brown hair falling on her face. "Carriers are the wave of the future, dontch'a know?"

"I am aware, yes. But Glorious is old and can't carry enough planes."

A sigh came from the battlecruiser, "Well yeah, but it's not like I---"

Silence. Nothing but the sound of a pen scratching on a map and Repulse's breaths. Until...

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL?!"

The noise of a battlecruiser jumping off a bed echoed in the cabin. A jump done so quickly it had her braid fall out and her hair cascade down her back in a brown wave. Turning wide blue eyes on her Captain, Repulse held a single finger up in a shaky pointer. Her mouth opened and closed...but not one word came out. Nothing but a strangled noise not unlike a startled cat.

Tennant merely raised an eyebrow.

"You can see me?!" Repulse got out, somehow, as her chest heaved with her shock.

"Have been for some time, yes." The Captain replied, fully facing the battlecruiser.

Repulse could only stare, her mind breaking by the second. "Hu--buh--wha--"

Tennant smiled thinly, standing up from his seat. The man walked up to his battlecruiser, staring Repulse in the eyes. "Hood suggested that I be told, before anyone else, that you girls are here. Said something about 'Repulse can't keep a secret and will probably be the first one to get through'."

For the life of her, Repulse didn't have a response to that. She was too busy wondering how long her Captain had been able to see her and hadn't said anything. It wasn't like she didn't pay attention! She paid more attention than Wales did!

"Honestly, she wasn't wrong." Tennant continued, a disapproving frown replacing the thin smile. His eyes trailed up and down the battlecruiser...in the way only an officer who was annoyed with what he saw could. "Frankly, you need to find a proper uniform."

That was the final straw. Repulse let out an incoherent cry of frustration, before turning on her heel and walking out of the room. She would find something that made sense again!

But...he sees me...

---

I'm making up for Sheo not updating NI, clearly. All the battlecruiser bullying.

Anyway, Force Z. And Repulse. This will tie in to the side story later, clearly.

Otherwise, I need to sleep.

Also, because when people decide to be dicks and say 'make your own fandom if you don't like the waifuism' I take it as a challenge

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Interlude: Utah and Ari​

Tired eyes cracked open and looked around in clear confusion. This wasn't where she was supposed to be. In fact, she didn't know where she was. The bed was comfortable, but it wasn't her hull. Her hull was gone. And it wasn't a hammock strung across a dock either, so she hadn't fallen asleep instead of working. At least not where she had been supposed to fall asleep.

So how...

"Mom? Are you okay?"

Grey eyes refocused, as Utah stared at her daughter. Arizona.

"Ari? Why---how did I--"

A gentle smile cut Utah off, as Ari's gloved hand reached down and brushed some hair from her face. "You needed to rest, Mom. I had Captain Jackson help me bring you here!"

"More like drag you." A much rougher voice, like sandpaper over her ears, echoed from behind Arizona. Utah knew that voice by heart. "Goddamnit, woman, did you have to work yourself to passing out? I had to fish you out of the water."

After giving her mother an apologetic smile, Ari moved aside to let Joe Jackson step forward. The old engineer, scarred face twisted into an annoyed frown, took her seat. His eyes bore into Utah's soul...until the battleship couldn't bear to look any longer. She turned her gaze away from her beloved engineer and captain, refusing to look at him. She was afraid of what she'd see.

She was afraid of what he would see in her. She still heard the voice crying for blood in the back of her head.

"Arizona, you mind leavin us alone?" Jackson's gruff voice echoed in the silent room.

Ari probably wanted to protest. But she only nodded and left the room, leaving Utah and her Captain alone. The very last position that the old battleship wanted to be in.

"Why did you bring me here?" Utah was the first to speak. She still couldn't look Jackson in the eyes, and her words were more bitter than she intended.

Jackson just snorted. "Do you really have to ask that question, Utah? Don't ya know me better than that?"

Perhaps it was just guilt. Perhaps it was wanting to know that Jackson hadn't stopped caring about her. Perhaps she was just tired. But, no matter the reason, Utah could only laugh humorlessly and turn shining eyes on her Captain.

She made no effort to wipe her tears away.

"You don't know me as well as you think." Utah's voice cracked. And she hung her head, lank gray hair falling in front of her newly-scarred face. Those flames had hurt her more than she wanted to admit. "Cap...Joseph. I lost myself out there. I murdered our own pilots."

Her Captain nodded, "You did. Willing to be more than a few flyboys hate you now."

If that wasn't rubbing salt in a very raw wound, nothing else was. Utah winced and slumped her shoulders yet further, unwilling to think about that. How many men and their families did hate her now? How many best friends, sons, husbands...

"But that's a fact of life in the Navy. Flyboys, especially Army flyboys, hate us anyway." Jackson's voice, for a rare change, was filled with amusement. He even laughed.

And laughed some more, when Utah's head snapped up and stared at him like he was a Martian.

"Come on, Utah, they're Army and we're Navy. We're supposed to hate each other."

Utah could only gape at the man, "Wha..."

Perhaps that was what he had been trying to do. As Utah's exhaustion fogged mind caught up with itself, she realized that. He had been purposely trying to get her mind off what she had done. And the worst of it was, he had succeeded. If nothing else, in making Utah think about something other than her ever present guilt. Or the anger that lurked beneath the surface.

That scared her more than anything to do with the flyboys. That she had lost herself and that, if it weren't for that, she'd be dead and a rusting hulk.

She owed her existence to anger she couldn't control.

"Look, Utah," Jackson got up from his chair, and sat down on the edge of her bed instead. His hand reached out to grasp her own. Jackson's calloused grip enveloped Utah's small hand and squeezed it tightly. "You're worrying too much. Even if someone hates you, fuck 'em. You're not at fault here."

"I'm a warship," Utah's voice was tiny and weak. "I'm supposed to protect. Not kill my own countrymen!" Tears freely rolling down her face now, Utah looked up at Jackson. Her grey eyes were misting over and she could barely see him out of them. "Why can't I try to make up for that by saving everyone I can?"

That was the crux of the matter. Utah wanted to save everyone she could. And as light from the smoke-clogged porthole illuminated the room she was in, it only served to remind her that more work was needed. Ari had told her that. She had to do what she could, no matter what it was.

"For the love of..."

That same light illuminated Joe Jackson's scarred face, as the aging man leaned forward. His lips brushed against Utah's cheek.

I--I--wh--

Utah didn't know how to react. She froze.

Her Captain just pulled back, and stared at her with a hard expression. He wasn't joking around at all anymore, was he? Jackson's voice was barely above a growl when he spoke again, "Utah, for once in your life, let someone help you. We're doing everything we can to get those men out, and killing yourself ain't going to help them."

The battleship opened her mouth to refute that...and only succeeded in having Jackson glare at her.

"We need you, believe it or not. You're the only ship like this, and who even knows how the hell you did it." Jackson clenched Utah's hand tightly, reminding her that- for better or worse- she was alive. "We can't lose you now, and you know that. So for the love of God, just stay in this bed and rest. Let the rescue teams do their jobs, and when that Admiral gets back, knock your heads together and figure out how this happened. Got it?"

It was a rare day when Jackson actually acted the Captainly role. Utah couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips to see him doing that.

"Yes sir."

This time, it was Utah who leaned forward and captured her Captain's lips. It was a chaste kiss.

But a kiss nonetheless.

---

With a small smile crossing her own face, Ari pulled her cap down and limped away from the room. Her Mother needed a man like that in her life. Someone who truly cared about her, despite what she was. She could only hope that nothing happened to Jackson, or it may break her mother.

"Hey, Ari."

On a related note...

"Tommy!" Ari hobbled up to the man who had given her a new lease on life.

The Marine was clutching a duffel bag over his shoulder, however, it did nothing to dim his smile. "Feeling any better? I know that the Sarge said it'll be awhile before you're fit to head to San Diego."

Ari couldn't help a wince, though it didn't compromise her own smile. She still walked with a limp from that torpedo and bomb hit along her flank during the attack. But she wasn't at any danger of sinking and it would only be a couple more weeks of makeshift repairs before she returned to the West Coast for a more complete reconstruction. Just like all the other Standards. Except...for poor, poor Cali.

"I'm better!" Arizona hardly let that keep her down, though. Not around this Marine. "The repair crews really know what they're doing. Everything is getting better, even my leg."

As if to demonstrate this, Ari stuck said leg out. Tommy valiantly fought to not look down, his honor warring with his Marine nature.

The Marine side won.

"Good to know," forcing down a slight flush, Tommy turned his eyes back on Ari. His free hand scratched at his fuzzy chin, as he looked at the girl.

Returning the glance, Ari smiled at him, "How are you doing? Are you leaving?"

Her smile did crack, a tad, at that idea. Tommy had given her a new motivation in her life and taught her a very important lesson. That everyone could help in their own way. Even if she couldn't leave her hull, she could still help her Marines and her Captain and her Admiral.

"Yeah," unfortunately, that didn't change Tommy's answer. The Marine rubbed at his bandaged face, the gash he had earned during the attack still healing. It didn't dim his own grin though. "Command decided to reassign me to the Raider Battalion. I'll be back with my buddies from basic. You'd like them, even if Frank would probably want to get in your skirt."

"He's a Marine. That's all they think about."

Ari spoke with such solemn grace and poise, placing her hand on her hip and staring up at Tommy with serious eyes, that the Marine actually stepped back. Before a smile crossed his face. And a laugh escaped Ari's lips.

"You ain't wrong about that," Tommy's grin widened a bit when he confirmed that.

"Of course not." While Ari just grinned back, completely at ease with this man. "Come on! If you're leaving, we should have some fun while you're still here!"

If Tommy was going to be leaving, though, she was going to spend every bit of time she could with him. Who knew when she would see the Marine again, after all!

---

Double post go!

Also, setting things up for later. You know how that goes.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Side Story: Memories of the Great War​

"No sign of the Italians. Cowards."

To HMS Queen Elizabeth, the Mediterranean was as familiar as breathing. The warm waters and calm Sea was more familiar than the North Sea that her family operated in. Fighting in this Sea was, if anything, even more familiar. Her very first battles had been fought here. Against the Turks, in the Great War. Then, the Italians had been allies. She may well have sailed with them against the Austrians, if the cowards had ever bothered to properly sortie.

Now, the Italians were her enemy and she was sailing against them. Against ships that may, once, have been friends. Ships as old and heavily rebuilt as she was. The Italians didn't have any of their modern battleships in the fight, from what she knew. With Bismarck and the other Germans up in Norway, none of her modern cousins were around either. If they found the Italians, this would be a fight between old ships. Her, Barham and Valiant against three or so smaller Italian dreadnoughts.

It's like Jutland all over again. At least that idiot Beatty isn't in charge this time.

It went without saying that she also didn't have the entire Grand Fleet ranged behind her, either.

"Any idea where they are, sis?" Barham's smooth voice, silk upon her ears, echoed in Elizabeth's head. Whomever had come up with this system of talking to each other was a madman. A genius, but a madman. "I can't see a thing out here."

Ah, of course. She didn't get the same refits as herself and Valiant.

"I can't see anything, Barham. Not a damn thing." Elizabeth was always more foul-mouthed than her sister. Back when the Grand Fleet was around, the battlecruisers liked to say it was because she was a redhead and took after her namesake. 'Queen Liz' never quite understood that. "Bloody Italians are a bunch of cowards."

"Come now, sister, isn't that a bit harsh?" Valiant's coarse tone was nothing like Barham, and much more like Elizabeth herself. "We may be enemies now...but they were allies once. Just as the French were."

That got a wince from Barham, audible even over this distance. And a scoff from Elizabeth. The French were a bunch of cowards too. Even the bloody Dutch were more willing to fight on than the French, and their entire country was occupied. So did the Belgians and the Polish and the Norwegians. The French? Oh no, let's surrender and let our fleet sit where the Germans can get it! Brilliant!

I wish I'd been in Barham's place. I would have shown that Frenchie what for!

"I'm not as eager to get into a fight as you are, sis." Speaking of which, Barham's silky voice rang out again. The least-modernized battleship in their little squadron, she sat at the rear of the formation. Her old bridge distinctive in the thin morning sunlight. "Remember what happened at Jutland? Or what happened to Revenge? Do you really want to risk that happening again?"

Elizabeth had the grace to at least look away. A hand rose up to brush at her long red hair, idly flipping a lock away from her ice-blue eyes. Her long dress shifted with the movement, blowing in the wind. If anyone could see her, they'd see someone who wore the air of a proper Queen, even if lacking a crown. The dark fabric of her dress contrasted sharply with her pale skin and red hair, her high- aristocratic -cheeks narrowed in a frown.

"I remember Jutland."

She didn't need to say anything else. She had missed that battle. Her sisters? They'd come home in varying degrees of pain. Elizabeth had been utterly frantic with worry, looking over Warspite. Her little sister still didn't quite walk right, all these years later. She never wanted to see her sisters come home like that again. She certainly didn't want it to happen when she wasn't in a place to help them, like Jutland.

Even so. Even so.

"I also remember Gallipoli. You know what happened there, yeah?" Elizabeth turned her ice-cold eyes over on Barham and Valiant. Her sisters were silent. "If we just let the Italians go, it's just as bad as that was. Do either of you want Guderian in Egypt?"

"...you aren't wrong, sister." Valiant sighed heavily. In the distance, a light flashed atop her mast. A signal. "Still, I find no joy in fighting former allies."

"I don't want you getting hurt, that's all." Barham was, if nothing else, always completely honest. She couldn't lie if she tried. "Do we even know that the new ships aren't there?"

It was impossible to know that, for sure. Every indication was that the Littorios weren't around. It was only the old battleships. A right battle of the geriatrics, really. Elizabeth couldn't help but snort at the thought. She wasn't worried like Barham was. This was going to be an old-fashioned brawl right out of the Great War, wasn't it? Something she had missed because of a refit.

She wouldn't miss it again.

"Should only be those old dreadnoughts. And they're not a threat. You know what Warspite did to Cesare, right?" Elizabeth felt a rush of pride for her sister, when she thought about it. Warspite had landed a hit at a range no other battleship could even come close to. Her little sister was a crack shot, she was! "'sides, those old guns aren't even close to our own."

"...the Germans had smaller guns too, you know." Barham's voice was quiet and filled with old pain.

Elizabeth fought the sudden urge to hug her sister, and settled instead for scoffing. No need to show any worry. "Bah! The Germans knew what to do with their ships. The Italians can't find their way out to sea without help. I'm not worried! They can't hit the broadside of a barn, and even if they could, their guns are weak."

"I hope that you're correct, sister, because I have little desire to repeat Jutland." Valiant gave off the impression of a shrug over their little communication link. And the impression of stiffening in place. "Radar is picking something up. We don't have any other ships out here, correct?"

"Not that I know of. Do you think...?" Barham was instantly all business. Whatever doubts she may have held buried deep under a veneer of experience and professionalism. She was a veteran.

"Most likely. Sister?" Directing that question at Elizabeth, Valiant's signals officers were sending similar messages to the flagship's own crew.

For her part? Elizabeth wore a wide grin on her pale face. This was her chance to shine. She had missed Jutland. She hadn't been used properly at Gallipoli. She was the flagship. The lead ship of her class. She'd never properly seen combat.

It was time to change that, yeah?

"Come on sisters, let's go show the Italians what the Royal Navy can do." Her voice dropped an octave, smoke pouring from her stack. Elizabeth brushed lingering red hair from her face, baring her teeth in a smirk. "They won't know what hit them. You two fought at Jutland, and I'm the big sister. I don't think they have any chance, do you?"

"I certainly know they aren't as experienced." Valiant was serious as ever.

Barham was silent, before sighing. Her smooth voice much less sure, though still filled with the steel of a battleship. "We're right behind you, sis. Don't do anything reckless."

"Bah! I'm not a young idiot like Wales. I won't do anything stupid, you know that!"

Even so, Elizabeth couldn't hold back her excitement at finally getting to put her guns to their proper job. Who cared about shooting up some unfortunate shoreline. This was what she was built for!

And she wasn't going to fail.

---

Initially, I wanted to put this as part of the proper chapter. Then I looked at the pacing, and the fact I struggle enough with big combat sequences as is. So I decided, instead, to make this a side story. To introduce the Royal Navy side of the battle.

Liz is...yeah.

Barham clearly wasn't sunk, since her sinking was around when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in this timeline (November 1941, OTL). Clearly, well past the point of butterflies. She's probably the most cautious of her sisters, in light of her experiences.

Valiant is the serious sister.

Next, we'll actually have the battle. I don't need to do something similar for Doria, clearly, since she got that with Taranto. Hopefully it won't take as long to get that up >.>

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Prelude to Battle: Regia Marina
​

There were times, if rarely, that Andrea Doria wished Italy and Britain were still allies. Not out of any fear of fighting the British, or any particular love for them. After Taranto, she had nothing but disdain for the Royal Navy. The only regret she had, was that it prevented sharing their technology. She'd heard that the British had something called 'radar' from her Admiral and Captain. They didn't seem to know exactly what it was either, just that the Regia Marina saved whatever they had for the more modern warships. And that it let the British see them, before she could see them. Not a fun feeling.

Doria was used to it by now, though. It isn't like this is anything new...

Brushing her ponytail from her face, the Italian stared out at the calm seas. Her brown eyes scanning the horizon. She...couldn't see anything. Only her own fleet, nothing more. It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it? Where were the British planes? Their ships? There was no way they would just let the transports through. The British always knew when they ran convoys.

"Where are they?" Doria mused aloud, her voice carrying over the steady wind. She frowned lightly, turning and walking towards her lookout. The man, high in her spotting top, didn't reply. "Sometimes, I really wish that everyone could hear me. Ugh."

She didn't hesitate to walk right through the man. He shuddered in place...she didn't feel a thing. No, Doria never did. Not anymore. She was too focused on staring out in a different direction. It would be a lie to say she wasn't eager for battle. She was a battleship. It was in her bones. And she'd never, not once, actually fought. It was a strange situation to be in.

Then again, at least I'm not Cesare. She's got a score to settle.

"Hey, Cesare!" Doria, in fact, turned her head towards that battleship. Cesare was very distinctive, with her older modernization. "You ready to hit that English battleship again?"

There was silence at first, before a soft snort came back. Doria got the impression of her cousin shrugging her shoulders. "Ready? Yes. Eager? Not particularly. I'd rather we didn't have to fight at all, at least until we've got the convoy into port."

"Aww. Come on, Cesare, where's your spine?" Doria was mostly just ribbing the other girl. She didn't really think that she was a coward.

"I want to get back at her. I just don't relish the idea of having to tie ourselves to the convoy." Once again, there was the impression of a shrug. "Our refits gave us speed, after all. I want to be able to use it."

"...you raise a good point."

Really, she did. Doria's eyes drifted away from Cesare, and towards the distant merchants. This wasn't a fleet battle, it was an escort mission. They couldn't just break off from the convoy entirely, and expect the British not to take advantage. That took away their advantage of speed. Which, she reflected, was the main advantage they had in the first place. She could feel her boilers practically itching to be let loose...and couldn't do anything about it. Well, damnit.

"I just want to get back at the English," sighing deeply, the battleship turned back to her cousin. "Taranto was the worst night of my life, and we've had no chance to fight back. Repay them for that."

Silence greeted her. A silence drawn out juuuuusssttt long enough to worry her, looking at Cesare. Until, with a heavy sigh of her own, the battleship responded.

"Yes. I am aware." Her voice was clipped and formal. Dry and dead. "My sister is never sailing again."

Oops?

Doria didn't reply to that. She couldn't reply to that. Cesare was silent, and the brunette was inclined to let her be. That was a trauma that she would rather not pick at, considering the situation. Her own sister was alive and well. Cesare...Cesare had lost both of her sisters. Leo was long dead, and was never going to come back. Cavour was floating in Trieste, languishing for lack of materials. If she ever sailed again, it wouldn't be for years. There was every chance that Cesare would die before then. Doria couldn't possibly understand that feeling.

She didn't want to understand it. Never.

"So," instead, she turned her gaze towards her distant sibling. Caio had been studiously silent the entire conversation, not wanting to get involved. She always was like that. "What do you think the British are up to, little sister?"

With a puff of smoke from her stack, Caio stiffened in place. Doria had the impression of vivid blue eyes glaring at her. "Oh no, don't drag me into this, sis. I'm not helping you!"

"Who said anything about helping me?" Doria snorted, holding a hand over her mouth to cover her laughter. Oh dear. "I'm just wondering if you've seen anything."

Caio sniffled a bit, before replying. "No, I haven't. I think they don't know where we are, personally. Wouldn't they have attacked us if they did?"

A valid point, to be sure. Doria had thought much the same, at first. There was something though. Something tingling at her as wrong about the situation. Turbine. She, and so many others, had been caught flat-footed. It was like the British always knew when and where a convoy would be.

"I'm more concerned about how they always know where we are."

"Are you sure you aren't worrying too much, sis?" Caio didn't have the experience, really. Even what little Doria had...was far more than her inexperienced sister.

With her eyes once more drifting away, Doria bit her lip. "I hope I am. I want to fight the British, but not on their terms."

Gaze finally settling on the distant shape of Zara, the battleship shook her head. If anyone would see the British first, it would be one of the cruisers. They were the eyes of the fleet. They were the ones who would fight first. She could only hope that they saw the British...before the British saw them.

---

Admiral Carlo Cattaneo stood on Zara's bridge, his eyes behind binoculars. He was scanning the horizon, a job for the lookout, out of a sense of duty. He was the squadron commander of the Second Division. He would, probably, be the first to fight. Keeping a lid on his Captains was difficult enough as it was, and he wanted to be ready when the British showed up. For that, he needed to know as soon as they were sighted. Thus, binoculars. He would know as soon as the lookout did. Or, so he hoped, at least. It was anyone's guess.

"Admiral, you do realize there is no sign of the British, yes?"

Zara's Captain was by his side, as he should have been. The two men were given a respectful distance by the rest of the crew, as they went about their duties. Zara, herself, steamed at the front of her division. Pola and Fiume were in-line behind her, with destroyers ranged around the flanks. Even further out, torpedo boats kept a wary eye on the horizon. It was a while yet, before the Regia Aeronautica provided their promised air cover. Until then, it was up to lookouts aboard the ships to find any enemy.

It was like the Great War, in a way.

"Perhaps," Cattaneo acknowledged, without removing his eyes from the binoculars. He looked towards smoke in the distance, that marked the furthest ranging Italian ships. "I don't expect that to last. Do you?"

The Captain chuckled, "Of course not. The English never miss the chance to attack a convoy."

"Exactly."

Moving his gaze further afield, the Admiral frowned slightly. In the distance, smoke rose on the horizon that was not where it should have been. He couldn't see much else, even in the bright sunlight he was provided with. That smoke, though...

"Captain?" Holding out the binoculars, Cattaneo stared at his subordinate. "Does this look out of place to you? I believe it is."

Raising an eyebrow, the younger man took the binoculars and scanned the horizon himself. It took only a matter of seconds for him to notice what was being pointed out. Even less time to lower the binoculars, and stare at the Admiral. Both men knew what they were seeing. Something only confirmed, when the lookout and contact from other vessels reported the same situation.

"British warships, approaching from the west!"

Cattaneo nodded his head, absorbing the information. Here they come. How many and what they have...if they have battleships, this could be a problem.

"Continue observing the British!" Zara's Captain was quick to command his crew, stepping aside and allowing the Admiral to move past him. "Prepare for combat! The English won't get to the Convoy. Not by getting past us!"

Walking towards the radio, Cattaneo allowed his subordinate to do his job. It was not his place to command Zara. He was the commander of the Second Division. The eyes of the fleet and the escort for the escorts. He needed to do two things, and neither of them were fighting the ship.

"Andrea Doria," Cattaneo spoke without preamble, his eyes noting how the smoke on the horizon grew thicker. The British had certainly seen him as much as he had seen them. "Second Division reports contact with Royal Navy warships. Count currently unknown, however--"

As he spoke, a report was handed to him by a harried young man. Nodding absently, the Admiral read it over. Hm.

"--two Battleships are seen in concert with the enemy fleet. Possible identification on a third. All appear to be Queen Elizabeth-class. Do you read?"

With a crackle of static, the communications officer aboard Doria was quick to respond. "We copy, Zara. Orders are to engage screening forces at your discretion. Destroyers and torpedo craft are to pull back until such a time as a gap has been created in the British line. Andrea Doria, Caio Dulio and Giulio Cesare are moving to provide support. Over."

"Copy, Andrea Doria."

With a nod at the man controlling the radio, Cattaneo changed channels. He was now connected to his direct command. Pola and Fiume. The destroyer leaders further out, only under his general command, their own officers largely operating on their own initiative.

"Orders from command are as follows..."

While Cattaneo gave out his orders, and the fleet began to coalesce into a proper fighting formation, a young woman stood beside him. Violet eyes looked at the Admiral, and at the crew rushing around. She bit her lip, her hands firmly placed on the medium-length skirt gracing her hips. Blonde hair fell in front of her face, covering her expression, even were anyone able to see it.

She was ready to fight. She wasn't sure that her sisters were. Or that this battle would go in their favor. She worried, more than anyone. It was in her nature as a big sister and flotilla leader. It wouldn't stop her from fighting with everything she had, when it came down to it.

For she was Zara of the Regia Marina, and she would never, ever turn away from her duty.

---

I would apologize for the lengthy hiatus...but at this point, I have to do that almost every time I update. I don't know how much words mean at this point >.>

Now that I'm out of Walmart, I should be able to write more often. This is still priority one. I just...hm. Destiny takes a lot more out of me than my other fics, because of how much I juggle and research for each chapter. In addition to this, battles are the bane of my existence. I'm much more comfortable with character work and (ironically) politicking than I am with battles. That's why I, once again, just do a prelude to it.

In the end, I don't like writing more than 3k or so for a chapter. This would be 5-6k if I wrote even half of the battle I've had percolating for months. I...considering time and how long it's been, I wanted to get something out before I work again. I work at a theater now. Which is normally much easier and less stressful...but Lion King comes out next week. Yeah.

So I, in the end, am putting this up as a counterpart to the Liz bit. Zara will be properly introduced next chapter. Expect some differences from KC!Zara since I tend towards doing my own thing. Pola will be much more different when she crops up too.

I hope to get the next one up quickly. Hope.