Changing Destiny (Kancolle)

Skywalker_T-65 · Nov 13, 2015

Summary: Funky, almost outright magic, was something that Admiral James Thompson was quite familiar with. Ship Girls operated on the stuff after all, and let's not even get into the Abyssals. But outright getting shot back to serving aboard the girl he considered his best friend? That wasn't something he could really say he expected with his life...

Not that he wasn't going to make the best out of a bad situation.

Note: As posted in the KC Idea Thread, this one came to me from playing way too much Grand Strat games. End result is, well, this. Seemed well-received enough, so here we are. Hope people enjoy it!

Side note: I am absolutely horrid at naming things.

EDIT: Now with a TVTropes page

Prologue:

"Great job everyone! That's the fifth carrier we've sunk this week, I think we're finally starting to push the Abyssal's back!"

"Their forces have been weakening Admiral. It's strange..."

"We have more and more of our own ships returning Sara, it was only a matter of time."

"Even so, the Abyssals have always outnumbered us."

"True, but I'm not about to complain either."

"I suppose you're right sir. I just have a feeling something will go wrong..."

"There's nothing to worry about Sara..."

Yawning heavily, Rear Admiral James Thompson groggily opened his eyes. Odd that he had dreamed about that day...nothing had ever come of it, despite his secretary- his friend's -worries. The war with the Abyssal's had just continued to wind down, as the girls under his, and so many other Admiral's, command grew more and more experienced. Tricks worked less and less, and for ever ship girl sent out, multiple Abyssal's fell. Even their seemingly endless numbers had begun to thin out, and really, it was only a matter of time until they finished the war off. So James hadn't been particularly worried about it for quite some time, even if his oldest girl had been.

And on that note, it was an odd day when Sara didn't wake him up. Come to think of it...something seemed off in that regard.

Blinking slowly, the Admiral noted something rather important. This wasn't his room back at Yokosuka, or even the one he had in the States. If the slight swaying and metal walls were any indication, in fact, this was aboard a warship. Last he checked, while more conventional ships were seeing a resurgence with the fall in Abyssal activity, he hadn't been aboard one. Not to mention that this wasn't any ship interior he was familiar with. His bed was hard, covered in a standard-issue cover. There was a small dresser and desk, with an ancient desk lamp on it. An equally small porthole showed a blue sky outside.

But...there were no electronics. James hadn't been aboard a warship...well, since before he ended up in command of the ship girls. And while he hadn't exactly been living in luxury back then, it was certainly better than this. A tiny room with no modern luxuries? He was an Admiral...if someone stuffed him on a ship, he should have better quarters than this!

"Actually, how the hell did I end up here anyway?" James muttered softly, adjusting for the roll of the ship as he got to his feet, "Wherever here is. Wonder if Sara's around?"

Stumbling around slightly, the Admiral pulled out one of the dressers, looking for his uniform. What he found had him raising an eyebrow instead, as he pulled the dress whites out.

"Antique dress whites?" he incredulously held up a uniform that wouldn't look out of place on one of his girls, albeit much more standard, "Did someone stuff me in a museum?"

The uniform he was holding was something that would better fit in such a place, for sure. He recognized it from documentaries and the uniforms of some of the American ship girls at any rate...a WW2 standard-issue Admiral uniform. Why in the hell he would have one instead of his more modern uniform was beyond him. Either someone was playing a joke, or he had ended up on the Hornet or something. But then, that raised the question of how he teleported across the Pacific without realizing it, and why someone would do that and then stuff him in a museum. A museum that felt like it was sailing, not just floating in harbor.

Sighing in more than a little annoyance, the man stripped out of his pajamas and pulled on the antique anyway. He wasn't going to wander around underdressed, while he figured out who stuffed him in here. Even if that meant wearing something more befitting his great-grandfather, than himself. Once he finished adjusting the uniform, James decided his first priority needed to be tracking down Sara or one of the other girls.

If anyone took me, there's no way in hell they didn't take at least one of them too. Hell, one of the DDs would probably sneak aboard if I was Admiral-napped.

Snorting at his little pun, James was going to open 'his' door, before he noted something he had missed before. Namely...

"Well, guess I don't need to leave after all," a wan smile crossed the Admiral's face, as he lowered his hand, "Hey, Sara! Mind explaining what's going on?"

Because in his confusion at his new situation, James had managed to totally overlook the fact that the familiar head of blue hair was sitting in a chair, opposite his desk and dresser. He might have been a bit red-faced at Sara being there while he changed, but for the fact she was asleep. And that, well, when one is in the military most modesty went out the window years ago. It wasn't like she would do anything about it anyway. And in any case, he was much more concerned with asking the carrier where he was, and how he ended up here, than any potential embarrassment.

But, despite shouting at her, the woman didn't wake up. James frowned slightly at that...if there were anything he could say about Saratoga, it was that the carrier wasn't a heavy sleeper.

"Hey, Sara," reaching a hand out, the Admiral shook his carrier- his friend's -shoulder.

That seemed to do the trick, as familiar brilliantly green eyes snapped open. Sara blinked in shock, before letting out a squeak entirely unlike herself, pushing away from the older-looking man. James frowned, pulling his hand back, entirely uncertain how to react to that...reaction. Sara was generally pretty unflappable, certainly not easily startled. Granted he'd woken her up, but he done that before on rare occasions. Generally, she'd just send him a flat look and reply that she would have gotten up on her own.

Squeaking and looking at him with wide eyes? Yeah, that was a new one.

"What's wrong with you?" James asked, honestly a bit worried.

"You can see me," Sara replied slowly, before her brain seemed to go through a reset, "Admiral on deck!"

Said reset had her jumping to her feet, snapping off a picture perfect salute. James returned it slowly, before frowning even deeper. Something was very wrong here.

"What do you mean I can 'see' you?" his frown refused to leave, "I've always...everyone's always been able to see you. At least since we summoned you to deal with the Abyssal's anyway."

Sara's pretty face fell slightly, a frown taking form on it, "No one should see me. I'm the spirit of this ship, not a living being. I keep my crew safe, but I can't interact with them. And, I'm sorry sir, but 'Abyssal's'?"

James felt his jaw drop, before he fell heavily into the seat behind him. He hadn't heard what he thought he just heard, right? He hadn't heard Sara just say that she didn't know what Abyssal's were. He hadn't heard her say that no one could see her. That she was the spirit of...this...

"Sara?" the Admiral warily began, "What ship am I on?"

"Me, sir," the carrier replied softly, hesitantly, "USS Saratoga, CV-3."

Hearing those words...the Admiral didn't know how to react. Everything he knew said this had to be a dream, or something like that. Not only should it be impossible for a ship girl to be around at the same time as her ship-form was, Saratoga most certainly shouldn't be able to. Her hull was a rusting hulk at the bottom of Bikini Atoll, falling apart with age and the damage that had sunk her. Most certainly not sailing the waves, apparently in perfect shape. No carrier from that time was still sailing, to say the least. Leave alone Saratoga.

But what did that mean for him, then?

If this isn't some elaborate prank, and I hope to God it is, that must mean I...went back in time? Sometime before 1946...but...that shouldn't be possible. Right?

It seemed impossible on the face of it. Sure, ship girls themselves were basically magic, but the idea of time travel? James could hardly wrap his head around all the reasons this should be impossible. Only one way to know for sure though.

"Ok...ok," rubbing his face, James turned back to Sara, "What day is it, Sara?"

The carrier blinked, "June 21st, 1940...sir."

James couldn't help the relieved sigh, despite everything else. Was he inwardly freaking the hell out at the idea he'd just gone back ridiculously far in time? Of course. But if he had to go back, at least it was...now. There was still...

"There's still time then."

"Time?" Sara still seemed somewhat awed that she was able to talk with the Admiral, but there was more than a little confusion in her voice as well.

There wasn't an answer for that question forthcoming, as James started rooting around in his tiny desk. The man muttered under his breath, as he looked for a journal. He didn't know if he'd replaced someone or if he was still dreaming or if this had always been his life. But right now, all he was concerned with was if this cabin- whomever it had originally belonged to -had a journal. If he had really gone back, he desperately needed something to write things down on. Before he started to forget very important things without access to his personal library or computer.

Log book...no, that won't do. I don't want anyone to see this. I need...aha!

With a small smile of triumph, James fished a large journal out of his desk. The pages inside were blank as of yet, but he didn't intend for it to stay that way for long, to say the least. If he wasn't dreaming or being pranked, well, this little journal would become the most important thing in the world.

"Right," muttering to himself, the man found a pencil- damn, I don't even remember the last time I used an old wooden pencil... -and started writing things down. Sara, still very hesitant, had moved to look over his shoulder as he worked. Her wide green eyes grew wider, as she watched.

"Pearl..." she breathed, a hint of worry in her tone now.

James looked over his shoulder, "Yeah...if I'm not dreaming right now, then you're not going to like what I'm writing here Sara."

"Admiral, you...this..." it seemed that the carrier was unused to having to enunciate herself. If her claim of no one being able to see her was true, that made some sense. She might never have talked before.

"Look," James sighed softly, setting his pencil down so he could fully face Sara, blue eyes on green, "What I'm about to tell you, assuming this isn't some prank York is playing or something, is not fun. You aren't going to like hearing it. But I can change things."

"Change what Admiral?"

"Well, for starters, if this is really 1940, I know that the War in Europe's been going on for some time now. June...June...France should be on the verge of falling, though I don't think Vichy's around yet. Battle of Britain isn't in full-swing yet either. And...huh, I don't actually remember if any American ships have been sunk yet. I know the Nazi's got one of our DDs but for the life of me I can't remember which one or when that happened."

Sara just stared at James, as the Admiral slowly trailed off. He chuckled weakly, running a hand through his dark hair. He had a tendency to ramble when he really got going on something, especially if it was important. Granted, she could just as easily be staring at him because he probably sounded crazier than some of the Japanese ship girls. Not that he could really blame her for that. The situation had him wondering if he was going crazy.

So he just coughed softly, before continuing at a slower pace, "Right, I was rambling there. Anyway, as hard as it is to believe, I'm not...well, supposed to be here. Last thing I remember if going to sleep at Yokosuka, decades from now. You and the other ships were long since gone, but came back as...spirits? Something like that, I never tried thinking too hard about it. All I know is that you came back, looking like that, and everyone could see you. We needed you to deal with the Abyssals. Not that I'm going to talk about them, because they shouldn't be a problem, and I don't like thinking about them."

The Admiral's face darkened slightly at that. The Abyssals...if there was any positive to be found in his situation, at least he would hopefully never have to deal with those monsters again.

"I..." Sara frowned again, "I don't know what to think...? This is..."

"A lot, yeah," James sighed again, "That's why I'm focusing on writing things down. Now, as I was saying, if I'm really in the past there are some things I can hopefully change for the better. You noticed Pearl?"

The carrier nodded, "Yes. My crew has staged mock attacks before, but I don't think that's what you were talking about Admiral. Is it?"

"Well, it's part of the problem. Despite all those practice battles, Pearl isn't ready for a real attack. And that is coming, in a little over a year. December 7th, 1941...a day that will live in infamy, to borrow Roosevelt's words."

James took a piece of the journal's paper out, and set it on the desk. His practiced hand moved the pencil along the paper, writing down names. Names of ships that wouldn't see the end of that fateful day. Ships that were killed or nearly so, with no warning whatsoever. Ships that never had the chance to properly fight back, because of various reasons. Reasons that in hindsight were idiotic, but at the time at least made some sense. Hopefully...well, that would come after he convinced Sara to help him. And that required the list.

USS Arizona*

USS Oklahoma*

USS West Virginia

USS Tennessee

USS Nevada

USS California

USS Maryland

USS Cassin*

USS Downes*

The list continued, and Sara grew progressively paler. Especially when James explained the asterisks...total losses. The Sara he knew would have probably set her jaw and marched out to do something about the situation. But this Sara...she just paled, and sat down again. She shook slightly, holding a hand to her mouth, clearly in shock. James felt horrible about doing that to her...doing that to the woman who in the future had been his closest friend, bar none.

But she had to know this.

"All those ships," Sara finally got out weakly, "No one warned their crews?"

"There were signs," James shrugged wearily, "And radar picked up the Japanese, but it wasn't believed to be an attack. They were all hit off-guard, and it's only luck that Enterprise wasn't there too."

"And you want to change that?"

The Admiral nodded, a determined expression crossing his face, "Among other things, yeah. We're in Pearl now right?"

"We are heading there," the carrier replied, "But the other Admirals..."

"They'd call me crazy and relieve me of duty, yes. That's where I'm hoping you, and whatever let's me see you, come in handy. If nothing else, I can warn the ships themselves."

James had no idea how much good that would do. If Sara were to be believed, there probably wasn't a lot the ship girls could do in their current states, without input from the crews. But if he didn't do something to help Arizona and the others, what good did he do? Giving Sara someone to talk to was nice and all, but this was a chance to really change things. He had to take that by the horns, and do the best he could. Even if the Admiral was somewhat lost on where to begin...

And felt more than a little trepidation. Helping Ari and the others was great, but on the other hand...

I hope Kongo and the others can forgive me for this. I never thought I would be on the opposite side of the Japanese girls...

Helping his girls meant hurting the Japanese. It was only the sound of Sara moving that got James away from that depressing line of thought. Though he knew it would come back to haunt him later.

"Is there anything else Admiral?" the carrier asked weakly.

The unasked question there was clear. Is there anything about me?

"You should survive the war, if me being here doesn't change everything," James answered that unasked question, "Unfortunately...the same isn't true for Lex. I'm hoping if I can remember- and write down -when you were damaged and prevented from being at Coral Sea...hopefully we can save her."

If Sara had been pale before, it was nothing on her expression now. James felt like someone had stabbed his heart on seeing that. If there was any one thing he knew about the Lexington sisters, is that they were close as any other ship girls. Somewhat closer even, considering the pair were the only ships of their class, and had almost always operated together, before the Yorktowns came around. And understandably, hearing that Lex would be fated to sink if something wasn't done about it, probably wasn't doing Sara any favors.

James hated that he had to tell her that. He really, really did. But she had asked...and she needed to know. It was her sister. It wouldn't be right if she didn't know. Even so, the shaking shoulders had him getting to his feet and walking over to her. He may have done this to her, but that didn't stop the Admiral from placing a hand on Sara's shoulder.

Studiously ignoring her slight flinch, James softly spoke, "Look, Sara, we'll do everything we can to save her, yeah? I don't know if I'm dreaming or not, leave alone how I ended up here and now if I'm not. But I swear, I'm going to do everything I can to make things better. Somehow."

"I..." Sara blinked, before she forced herself to stop shaking, "I'll do anything I can to help you Admiral!"

Now there's the Sara I remember. I just hope we aren't in over our heads here...

Skywalker_T-65 · Nov 17, 2015

Chapter One:

Walking through the streets of Honolulu, James felt a certain sense of nostalgia. Not from being in the city itself, as he had only been there once before, on his way to transfer to Yokosuka. And at that point, Honolulu had been in ruins from Abyssal raids, and he hadn't ventured far from his landing anyway. Just far enough to see the broken hulk of Missouri, looking far too much like her much older counterpart, Arizona. No, the nostalgia he felt was from the very 1940s vibe of the life in the town. People wandering around in clothing more befitting an old movie than day-to-day life. Advertisements for coke or pepsi, that wouldn't have looked out of place in a museum. And of course, the young men wandering around in off-duty uniforms.

Frankly, if he didn't trust Sara implicitly, James would be worried he was in some crazy reproduction. Well, that and the sight he could see in the distance.

Man, there really is something about seeing these ships in their prime...

Because seeing Battleship Row in the flesh, was as impressive a sight as he might have expected. It wasn't the full December 7th fleet, but he could recognize Arizona and Nevada at the least. Which was good...if there were any here he wanted to talk to, Ari was one of them. He still doubted much could be done, but he wasn't going to just lay down and let events take their course either. If he could save Ari from the Japanese attack, at least something had improved. Even if it wasn't much in the long run.

But that would have to wait, as it wasn't technically the reason he was on land, instead of aboard Sara- an odd thought in itself.

"Right this way sir."

"Lead the way."

Because as he walked into the center of operations at Pearl, James was on his way to meet the one man who might actually make a difference. The only problem was...what kind of difference. Looking around at the men- and forcing himself to remember there would be no women or African-Americans -wandering around, reminded him of a passage he had read on the Pearl attack. It was a mercy that the attack had happened the way it had. If the fleet had advanced warning and tried to intercept the Japanese, all the recovered ships would have sank in deep water.

It was...a difficult situation. James still wanted to warn his higher-ups, but he didn't want to do it in a way that doomed more men and ships than already had been doomed.

I know I can't save all of them, and that if I do it probably means more Japanese losses. But I want to at least make an effort. I just don't know how...

James sighed softly, though his escort didn't seem to notice. It really was a difficult situation he had found himself in.

If I give too much warning, or Command believes too much of what I say, they may be more ready. But they may be too ready. At least being hit in dock means we can salvage the girls, if they aren't hit like Ari was. And the crews will have a better chance of survival. But that means I have to let the attack happen, even if I would love nothing more than to avoid it. Damn it.

"If I didn't have Sara..." the Admiral muttered softly, shaking his head as he neared the destination of his little side-trip.

Really, if he didn't have Sara at his side, he might well have gone mad from his position. Being able to help, knowing how things were going to happen...but knowing he had to let them happen. That was more than any man could handle, without someone there to talk to and help him. And even if it would get him called crazy if anyone found out, at least he had Sara.

That would have to be enough.

"We've arrived sir," his escort spoke up, as the two men stopped in front of a doorway.

"Right, we have," James nodded, "Thank you for the escort Corporal."

The other man snapped off a picture perfect salute, before taking up position by the doorway. James let out a soft, unheard sigh, before moving through the doorway himself. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating a large office. Only one man was in the office though, despite the size. That man was standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for James to arrive. The man had rugged features, and was observing the displaced Admiral with intelligent eyes. This was no political Admiral...this was a man who had earned his position. And he knew it.

Saluting on instinct, James felt like he was in the presence of a man who might actually be able to help him.

"Admiral Thompson, reporting as ordered."

"At ease Admiral," the other man returned the salute, "Your report?"

James felt some of his nerves fade away, as he handed his report over. He had been lucky enough to find that report in his desk, and hadn't had to make something up. That would have just been wonderful in its own way. But on the other hand, it wasn't exactly as he had found it either...

"Hm. I see you have made annotations, Admiral."

"Yes sir. I felt that the Fleet Problem demonstrated the vulnerability of Hawaii."

A nod answered that, as the older man looked out his window, Battleship Row plainly visible, "I happen to agree with your notes Admiral. A forward deployment like this is something we are not ready for."

Turning back from the window, the Admiral tapped a map laid out on his desk. A map of Pearl, with defensive positions highlighted. Defensive positions that were all very new and very untested, outside the Fleet Problems. Which had all worked to demonstrate that Hawaii was not ready to become the new base for the Pacific Fleet, not yet. No matter how fast the work was done.

"I'm not a carrier man myself," he continued, "So I would welcome the input of a sailor as experienced as yourself."

"Yes sir," James replied, inwardly sighing in relief.

He was very lucky that Admiral James Richardson was someone who had always felt that basing in Hawaii was a bad idea.

Lucky or not though, by the time he was done talking, James felt like he had run a marathon. Richardson was a sharp cookie, and it took everything the younger man had to suggest improvements to the defenses without making it where the fleet could preemptively sortie against the Japanese. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't caved in at some point during that.

And now he needed something a bit more relaxing and familiar. As such, he was currently aboard a small motor launch, pulling up alongside Arizona. The imposing steel walls towering over him were such a far cry from the rusting, leaking oil, monument he was used to that the Admiral had to pinch himself. Sufficiently certain that, no, he wasn't dreaming, James felt the sharp stop of his launch bumping up on Arizona. The rating in charge of transfers had already prepared a ladder for moving aboard, and the Admiral climbed it with more than a little trepidation.

He couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed that it was a ladder instead of something more befitting an Admiral. He had made this trip on very short notice, and he wouldn't be surprised if Admiral Kidd was a bit annoyed.

Though it's not him I'm worried about. Sara's not the same. How will Ari act? Especially since I'm not her Admiral. Some girls can be annoyingly specific about that...

"Welcome aboard," James was pulled from those thoughts, as another Admiral greeted him. An Admiral who was most certainly not Isaac Kidd.

"Thank you Admiral..."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Kidd isn't in command yet? Who was before him?

Isaac Kidd was famous, and tended to overshadow his predecessor in command of Arizona. It had totally slipped James' mind that Kidd may not have been in command of the battleship yet.

"Willson," if the other Admiral noticed the confusion, he didn't comment on it, "I understand that you are new to the Pacific, Admiral Thompson?"

"Yes, that's true," inwardly sighing in relief again, James looked around at the ship surrounding him, "Nice ship Admiral. I may be a carrier man myself, but I've always had a soft spot for the old dreadnoughts."

Willson nodded, "Arizona is a beauty, isn't she? Not the newest girl in the fleet, but she gets the job done. I am curious why you chose to visit her though."

James turned his head back to his counterpart, "It's been some time since I've been aboard a battleship. Felt like I should take advantage while I had the chance, considering I'm not going to get many."

"No, I imagine you won't," the other Admiral nodded, though his eyes never once left James' face, "I have no problem with a fellow officer looking things over. So long as this isn't a cover to investigate how I run my ship."

Now, James was normally fairly good at judging humor. But for the life of him, he couldn't tell if Willson was joking with him or not. Figuring that discretion was the better part of valor, he went with the latter option.

"It isn't Admiral."

All he got was a nod, as Willson assigned a guard and went off to run his ship. James was marginally annoyed he got stuck with an escort, considering what he needed to do, but it was a sensible precaution. No matter who was aboard your ship, if they weren't part of your crew, they would have an escort. Any captain or admiral would hold to that. It made his job significantly more difficult, but really, what was a man to do?

And at any rate, he didn't even know where exactly Ari was. He'd have to find the girl, before he could even think about talking to her. And while Arizona was small compared to Sara or the later Iowa, she wasn't exactly a small ship in general.

This...this may take a bit.

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

As it would turn out, not as long as he might have thought. When James was walking by the- to him -antique floatplane mounted on Arizona's stern, he saw the familiar blue overcoat, fluttering in the breeze. The coat was on a slender, petite girl, her short auburn hair brushed by the breeze under her officer's cap. She made no sign of noticing him, staring out at the harbor and California moored behind her physical body. For his part, James did his best to not make a show of noticing her either. His escort seemed rather bored out of his mind escorting the 'curious officer' around, but that didn't mean he wouldn't notice if James started talking to thin air either.

Bored out his mind or not, the man was a Marine. They didn't let things slip under the radar- well, that term was going to be awkward now... -even before the war started.

"I'm going to take a break here," instead, James turned his head slightly, nodding at the other man, "Is that alright?"

"You're the officer, Admiral," the Marine replied, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

"Right. As you were then."

The Marine nodded, moving to stand by the floatplane, as James moved to stand next to Ari. For all intents and purposes, it would look like he was just looking out at the harbor himself. His escort was far enough removed that whispering wouldn't carry over the sounds of nature and man mingling in the harbor breeze now, so he could talk if he was careful. As such, the Admiral 'casually' leaned over, brushing Ari's side with his own.

Just like with Sara, the powerful battleship flinched and moved away like she'd been burned, before turning wide brown eyes on him. James merely raised an eyebrow, whistling tunelessly as he nodded at the Marine still somewhat nearby. Said Marine hadn't noticed anything off, but Ari seemed to get what the Admiral was pointing out. She nodded slowly, turning her head back towards the harbor.

"You can see me?" her soft voice carried over the sound of the harbor.

"Yup," James whispered back, "I can see all of you girls."

"That's new," Ari laughed lightly, brown eyes glancing at the Admiral sidelong, "I've never met anyone who can see us before. It's a bit exciting!"

For his part, James blinked slowly at the cheerful tone. Ari always had a bit of cheerfulness, despite what happened to her. But right now, there wasn't a hint of melancholy in her voice. Just happiness that someone could talk to her.

...well, I suppose she hasn't been sunk yet...?

Regardless of the reason, it was somewhat nice to see.

"It's exciting for me too," the Admiral smiled slightly, "Though I could do without being sent back in time."

Ari turned back to him again, eyes wide and a question on her lips.

"No, I don't know how it happened. All I know is it did happen."

The battleship deflated, though there was still a light of curiosity in her eyes, "If you're from the future, what happened to me? I assume I served until a new battleship replaced me and I was put in reserve right?"

James sighed softly, turning his eyes out at the harbor. At a ship that actually had survived the war, in the form of California. It was easier than looking at the cheerful girl next to him. Though that couldn't- wouldn't -last, as Arizona began to realize something was wrong. Her eyes narrowed, as she worriedly bit her lip. James could recognize the habit. She was nervous and worried now. Not that he could really blame the girl for that...

"Right? That is what happened?" she asked again, worry overtaking the curiosity in her tone.

"I wish I could tell you that, I really do," the Admiral patted Ari on the shoulder, making it look like he was waving some bugs away for the benefit of his escort, "But...no."

Arizona frowned slightly, even if she seemed to enjoy the feeling of being touched by someone, "Then...what did happen, Admiral?"

"Japan attacks Pearl in a little over a year and a half from now. December 7th of '41, to be more specific. You...you get hit in the magazine," James winced as Ari started shaking much as Sara had when told about Lex, "You're too badly damaged to salvage, even if it weren't for losing so much of your crew in an instant. Instead, we built a memorial above your hull...you became a symbol. Though the Ari I know was never very fond of that."

"I wouldn't be!" the petite girl replied, shaking her head, sending her auburn hair flying, "I don't want to be a symbol like that. I want to serve my nation...keep my crew safe..."

Nodding slightly, James couldn't deny that statement, "I know. That's why I'm here talking to you...I know you probably can't do a lot like this, but I wanted to warn you. If you can do anything, at least I helped that much."

A bright, if somewhat weak, grin was directed his way after that statement. Ari seemed to appreciate what he was doing at least.

"Thank you Admiral," the battleship turned her view back out to the harbor, "Thank you. At least I know what to expect now."

"I'm doing everything I can to make things better," James looked at the harbor himself, "I know it's not much...but I'm doing what I can."

"It's something at least. That's all I can ask sir."

James sighed softly, "I just hope it's enough. Sara will radio you later, so we can talk about this in a bit more detail. I think my escort wants to move."

Ari turned her head, a small giggle escaping her at the Marine, who was doing everything he could to look like he wasn't getting impatient, "You might be right Admiral. And you're Saratoga's Admiral?"

"Yup. Some things don't change no matter the time," James shrugged, before patting her shoulder again, "We'll talk later Ari."

The battleship smiled at him, before continuing her silent vigil. The Admiral sighed softly at that, but knew his time was limited. Best to not push his luck with his fellow Admiral, who was being remarkably understanding in allowing his 'tour' in the first place. At any rate, he needed to get back to Sara anyway. If all went well, she would be able to contact the other girls by radio, and he could use that to talk with them. If all went well.

James could only hope that was the case.

AN: This one was a bit difficult. It's...interesting...to balance the fact that we need interactions with historical figures- James is an Admiral, with all that entails -with the fact that this is, at it's heart, still a Kancolle fic. Which is part of the reason I skipped past the discussion with Richardson. That, and I have never and will never, barring WWIII, serve in the military so my knowledge of proper things there is somewhat...lacking.

Either way, while there will by default have to be bits with no ship girls and with historical figures, I'm aiming for the ship girls to be the bigger focus. Considering, y'know...Kancolle fic.

Skywalker_T-65 · Nov 30, 2015

Took a bit longer than expected here...but here we are. This one was fun...though I'll note I wasn't able to find a ship listing of what ships were in harbor in June 1940. And I fudged it slightly, and intentionally, with Utah who technically shouldn't be there until August. Consider it a very slight AU.

Chapter Two:

I will never get used to this...

Being back aboard the familiar form of USS Saratoga, James sighed softly. Even moreso than Arizona, seeing the imposing form of the aircraft carrier- still armed with her eight-inch guns even -was something he would never, and could never, get used to. Especially considering it was the closest thing he had to a home now. To think he would be living aboard Sara...it was like he was one of her fairies now. The thought made him shudder slightly, as he neared his cabin. At least he knew he wasn't a fairy, or everything he had done on land wouldn't have happened. Even so, it felt exceedingly odd to think about the fact he was living inside Sara...in a manner of speaking.

At least he had Sara herself to talk to, that made it a bit easier to deal with. In fact, the moment he opened his door, she was already rushing to his side. The uncharacteristically worried look on the carrier's face was another thing he would never really get used to either. Sara was normally the strong one, who didn't let anything get to her. Seeing her this worried...well, it wasn't something he liked, to say the least. Even so, James put on a smile for the girl, getting a weak one in return. Patting her on the shoulder as he walked past, the Admiral sat down on his cot, sighing softly.

"Well, that went well enough," James began, as Sara hesitantly sat down next to him.

"Admiral?" she asked curiously.

"I talked with Admiral Richardson," the Admiral continued, "He agrees that there needs to be more done to protect Pearl, but it was hard to make suggestions without making it where the fleet sorties when Japan attacks."

"Wouldn't it be better if we did?" Sara asked softly.

James just shook his head, "Not at all. If it goes anywhere near how I remember...none of the carriers will be here. Against six Japanese carriers, the old girls would be nothing but targets. And if they get sunk in the open ocean..."

"They'll be gone, and most of the crews will die..."

"Exactly," James sighed again.

He didn't like the sad look on Sara's face either. But he couldn't let her get the wrong ideas, even if when it came down to it, it was him in command of this ship.

"In any case, I've done what I can there...it's out of my hands now. On the other hand, I've talked with Ari."

Sara perked up at that, "Really? What did she say?"

"Not a lot," the Admiral shrugged, "I had an escort so I couldn't risk talking to her for long. She...didn't react well."

That was an understatement. Ari had reacted in exactly the way he had expected, which was completely understandable. He remembered...he remembered the Ari from his time. A girl, who while still upbeat, was deeply scarred by what had happened to her. Physically and metaphorically for that matter. Those scars lingered, no matter how many people were supportive of her. And telling her younger self what would happen...

Well.

"I can imagine," the carrier finally replied, voice soft and pained, "Like how you told me what happ...happened to Lex."

The Admiral nodded, a sad smile on his face, "Exactly like that. But that's why I'm trying to make things better. And in the interests of that..."

"Admiral?"

"Can you contact the other girls by radio? You could in my time, but I don't know if it's different now or not," James waved a hand, shrugging as he did so, "I'm still shocked you made do with this level of technology. And that I have to live with it."

Attempt at humor aside, James was entirely serious. He wasn't sure if the girls could contact each other that easily, since the technology for a radio that small just...didn't exist. Not yet.

"I should be able to," but Sara smiled demurely at him, as she tapped her head, "I am the ship Admiral. Whatever is aboard, is something that I can use."

Which would mean she was fully capable of using the radio set installed aboard Saratoga. That was useful to know, for future reference. It also meant any upgrades made to the ship would transfer over to her, which was even better to know. James was far from an engineer, but anything he could do to improve the chance of his girls surviving...well, he would do it in a heartbeat. He'd do it over and over too, until he did the best he could. But that was in the future for now, right now, it was more important to contact as many of the girls in Pearl as possible.

If radio was an option, then between herself and Ari, Sara should be able to get in contact with all the girls. Which might be a bit overwhelming actually...but James was confident that even through their shock, the girls would act professional. They always had been able to do so when it really counted, and right now, that meant leaving the battleships to do the talking.

Right?

"Well, call Ari first then," James leaned forward, noting the way Sara tried to lean back with a flush on her face, "Let's not go too fast."

"R...right."

Sara tapped her head again, face scrunching up somewhat in concentration as she contacted the battleship on her radio.

"Arizona? Do you read me?"

There wasn't the slightest delay, before the familiar voice echoed through the room, just as if there were an actual radio set, "Yes, I read you Saratoga. Is this about..."

"My Admiral? Yes, he wants to speak to you."

"Oh! Is he there now?"

"Yes."

James couldn't help but shake his head in amusement. While there was the lingering unease from earlier still in her voice, Ari seemed to have gone back to the cheerful side of things. At least, her voice gave that impression...he could almost see the wide smile on her pretty face, red hair swaying in the breeze as she stood on the hull of her...body. Really, it was nice to hear.

"Yeah, I'm here. You okay Ari?"

That was a good question really. James had to make sure the girl was fine, before he moved forward...he didn't want to drag her into something she wasn't ready to talk about.

Luckily for him though...

"I'm fine Admiral!"

Cheerful tone or not, James still frowned slightly, "You sure?"

"Yes. I'm...worried, but it won't impact my service sir."

Well, realistically that's probably the best I can hope for right now...

"Understood," the Admiral nodded, even if only Sara could see him, "I wanted to talk more about the attack. Do you think you could help Sara patch in the other girls? At least the battleships, if nothing else."

"My sister as well..." Sara softly added.

"Right, and her."

Mentally kicking himself for forgetting the carriers- it was disturbingly easy to do so...they didn't have to worry about Pearl's impending attack -James could be forgiven for doing so. Either way, it was important to let them know...even if there was little either girl could reasonably do.

"I can do that!" for her part, Ari didn't sound worried.

"Good. Let me know when we're patched through."

Either way, James needed to let them do their thing...contact what girls could be contacted.

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

Sometime later, the Admiral nearly flinched when he felt Sara tap his side. Not realizing he had dozed off while waiting, and in his defense it had been a rough couple days, he sent a reassuring smile at the flushed carrier. She softly smiled back, before using ship girl magic- really, what else could he call it? -to increase the volume on her radio set. James cleared his throat, and when the blue-haired woman nodded, began speaking.

"Hello, this is Admiral James Thompson. Who am I speaking to?"

Best to figure out which girls, and by extension how many girls, were involved first.

"Arizona reads you."

"California here!"

"New Mexico as well."

"Tennessee is here too!"

"...Idaho responding."

"Utah, I read you loud and clear Admiral."

And so it continued, until everyone but Lex had responded. Once James was certain he had everyone he needed listening in- and he knew that even if Lex wasn't able to listen, Sara would talk to her- he sighed softly. This...this reminded him of his time in Japan, when he would hold meetings with his girls. The fact that only a couple of these ships were his didn't matter. The fact was, it still felt the same. If asked, James would be hard pressed to say what he felt more important...preparing these girls for the Japanese, or for the Abyssals, in his time. But in the end, it didn't really matter.

Because come hell or high water, he was going to do the best he could regardless of the situation.

"Alright then," the Admiral nodded slightly, "How much have Sara and Ari told you all?"

"Not much. Just that we're gonna be attacked?" the heavy California accent identified that girl as...California. Cali, rather, as James reminded himself.

"Yes, that Japan is going to attack in a little over a year," a subdued Ari confirmed.

Sighing softly again, James looked at an equally subdued Sara as he continued, "Exactly that. To be more specific, if nothing I remember changes, it will be December 7th of next year, early in the morning. No warning, just a sudden attack out of the sun and all."

There was silence over the line, before Tennessee of all people cursed up a creative storm. Then again, with the crews these girls had, all of them could pull out that language if they particularly felt like it. That being said, James wasn't about to jump in to cut her off. He'd learned that lesson the hard way, because when a ship girl got angry...it was best to just let them vent it. Healthier that way.

"Are you finished?" the Admiral asked, once silence again ruled the airwaves.

"...yes."

"Right then. Like I said, there won't be any warning...or, at least, no warning that gets through. Unless Admiral Richardson or Kimmel put more emphasis on the radar anyway..." James frowned, "And that's not likely. I tried to suggest it to Admiral Richardson, but if he listened or not..."

Again with the silence, until a hesitant Idaho- soft-spoken as ever -asked a question that was quite obvious in hindsight.

"Admiral...what is 'radar'?"

"Think he means the fancy rangefinder those guys installed on me awhile back?" Cali suggested.

James blinked slowly, "Huh...didn't know any ships had radar yet. Damn it, I need to remember these things...in any case, yes, that is what I'm talking about. There will be, maybe already is, a land-based set installed on the island. They'll detect the Japanese approach, but since it's so new and relatively untested..."

"No one listens," Utah supplied, a thoughtful tone to her voice.

"More or less. There's other reasons behind it, but that's the gist of it."

A tapping echoed through the cabin, likely one of the girls tapping her chin. A thought confirmed, as Meg, as New Mexico insisted she be called in the future, began talking.

"If there is no warning, then we won't be prepared for the attack. Are carriers truly able to cause enough damage that it is a problem? I know from a few of my crew that the Fleet Problems indicate that but...not to the extent we should be worried. Especially with the distance Japan has to travel."

A smile crossing his face, James shook his head fondly, "You always were a smart one Meg. But...Taranto should have already..."

Sara reached out and tugged on the Admiral's arm. The carrier shook her head slowly, making him raise an eyebrow. In response she pulled out his journal, and opened it to James' listing of dates...whereupon he felt a flush crawl up his neck. After all, Taranto was listed as November 1940. It was June.

Right...must not make mistakes like that.

"Nevermind that then," James coughed lightly in an effort to cover his misstep, "But believe me, while this attack will be the start of it...carriers will be the new queens of the sea. Even if we had all the advance warning in the world, it wouldn't matter if none of those girls were here. I'm sorry to say it, but not one of you could get in range of the Japanese before being sunk."

Not least because of the, good idea at the time it may have been, Standard Battleship Doctrine. All of the battleships currently in commission sans Utah, Ark, Wyoming, Tex and York- and only then because they predated it- were of that doctrine. An intentional design, meant to make it where they could operate in a unified fleet, all moving at the same speed and for the most part, firing at the same range. The problem was, these ships and that doctrine were pre-World War One. Twenty-one knots...that was their highest average speed, even if emergency power might stretch it a bit.

Even the slowest of the Japanese carriers, Kaga, was more than capable of outpacing that.

And considering they would be advancing under air-attack in a time before extremely heavy anti-air was regarded as necessary, meant that the slow speed would render them extremely vulnerable. Any sortie would be sunk long, long, before it reached firing range.

"Those are fighting words," Tennessee complained, but there was a slight hesitance that hadn't been in her voice before.

"But it's the truth. I...I'm not sure how I ended up in this time in the first place, mind you. But what I do know, is what I've learned and seen. Against Abyssals, battleships are more than capable. Against human carriers? Unless you're upgraded a lot or a North Carolina and newer...you're not going to get far."

"...Abyssals, sir?" Utah spoke up once more.

"Damn it...didn't mean to bring that up yet. I'll explain that later, and hopefully none of you ever have to worry about it," James kicked himself for forgetting that he wanted to avoid talking about the monsters as long as possible, "for now, we need to focus on the attack. I know it's hard to wrap your heads around the risk..."

"Damn straight," Cali helpfully supplied.

"...but that's why I'm here I think."

Rolling his eyes at Cali's eccentrics aside, James felt like a weight came off his shoulders when he admitted that. He still hadn't the slightest idea what got him stuck in the past or why it had happened. But he felt that he had an idea. Maybe it was a delusion or a false hope. But it was what he was clinging to, in the lack of any evidence.

"Admiral?" Sara asked softly, hesitantly placing a hand on his own.

"I think I'm here to save you girls, and I'll be damned if I fail at that," smiling at Sara, the Admiral spoke with utmost conviction, "And since that's why I'm here, I want to work with you all on plans to keep you alive. I know you can't do much in this state...you are the ship, but the crew is ultimately in command. That's why I want to see if we can figure out ways for you to influence things. Even if it's something as small as triggering your general quarters alarms..."

"I was going to suggest that!" Ari complained goodnaturedly, getting an amused smirk out of the Admiral.

"That should still be enough," James continued, "Hopefully we can do more...it'd freak the hell out of your crews, but if you can manage to get control of your boilers or antiaircraft guns, that would be even better."

The eager chatter from the girls kept the smile on James face, as he squeezed Sara's hand slightly. He didn't see his focus was entirely on saving the girls...but then, that hardly mattered to him.

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

After the last of the battleships signed off, James sighed wearily, and leaned against the wall of his cabin. Darkness had fallen, the Admiral mentally exhausted by what he had done.

"Are you alright Admiral?" Sara asked with more than a little worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine," James smiled at the carrier, "Just a bit tired. That took more out of me than I thought it would."

Sara's worried look didn't vanish like her Admiral had hoped it would, "Perhaps you should res..."

Before she could finish that sentence, the radio crackled again. Both man and carrier flinched in shock, before the latter tapped her head in confusion. Confusion that only lasted until Utah's voice came into the room.

"Admiral, are you still there?" the elder battleship asked softly.

"Yeah...something up?" James replied, sharing a confused look with Sara.

"Yes. I know you are doing what you can to help, but I need to know. How many of us don't survive? How many of my girls die here?"

Utah's voice had gone deadly serious, the tone not unlike...not unlike a mother worried for her children. The confused look on James and his closest friend- odd as that was -vanished. Now it was replaced by a concerned look on his, and a small smile on Sara's. He imagined she probably heard that tone of voice from Langley...the mother of American carriers. Utah though...she wasn't a 'first' in any sense of the world. Not the first American battleship. Not the first American dreadnought. Not the first American super-dreadnought. So why then, would she be acting like the younger...

...

...

...right. James felt like smacking his face, as he realized the answer.

"You think of them as your kids, don't you?" he asked back, instead of answering Utah's question.

"Yes, I do. That's why I need to know."

He could understand now. Utah had been converted to a training ship, and was the oldest battleship still commissioned in the USN, if only by a couple years over Wyoming and Ark. It wasn't the same difference as Langley or Hosho compared to their counterparts...but that didn't matter, did it?

As such, he sighed softly before answering, "Ari and Oklahoma. Neither of them survive the attack...Ari's a memorial, in my time."

"...no. No..."

The despondent tone had James quickly speaking again, "But the others all survive! Nevada, Tennessee, Cali, Virginia, Mary and Pennsy...they all survive. They're hurt, but they survive."

There was silence, before a small sniffle came over the radio, "That's small comfort, Admiral. Ari and Oklahoma...I truly do view all these girls as my children. I know it's not logical, if anyone has that right it was South Carolina. But that doesn't change how I feel. I don't want any of them to be hurt. I'd gladly give my own life before that happened. I would do anything to prevent it."

"..." James sighed again, "You don't make it either Utah."

"Then at least I didn't have to live with the guilt," the battleship weakly replied, "Is there anything else we can do?"

The Admiral shook his head, even if the girl couldn't see him, "Not that I can think of. Not unless you girls can contact your commanders. But...I don't even know how I can see you all, other than because of the future I come from. I don't know if anyone else can see you."

Silence...before Utah sniffed again, "Then I will do everything I can to talk to my Admiral. I would suggest the other girls do the same."

"I have experience with it Utah..." James warned her, "I'm not freaked out by this because I know you girls...I care about you, and I already know you exist. Anyone else may just think they're hallucinating and go to a psychologist. They'd be relieved of duty."
"I don't care," while her voice was still watery, there was the steel of a mother determined to protect her girls in Utah's voice now, "I won't rest until my girls are safe, and I imagine you feel the same Admiral. If contacting our own officers is the best way to do so, then do it we shall."

James just slumped down, Sara sending him a worried look again.

"If that is what you want to do. Just please...be careful."

"You don't need to worry about that sir."

The radio finally cut out for good, allowing James to fall back on his cot. Closing his eyes, he placed an arm over his face. He knew that Sara was going to be looking at him worriedly, but right now, he couldn't find the energy to reassure her. His efforts to save the girls...he hadn't expected Utah's actions. He couldn't very well blame her, but...he didn't know how things would go if her goals proved possible. The world shouldn't know about ship girls, kanmusu, ship spirits...whatever you called them. It shouldn't know about them until far in the future, if at all...if the Abyssals even still existed, sleeping wherever they originated from.

The world wasn't ready, not in the grips of the greatest war it had ever seen.

But there's nothing I can do. These girls will never give up the chance to talk to someone, other than their comrades. They've never realized it was possible before, but now...

"My God, what have I done?"

Skywalker_T-65 · Dec 4, 2015

I didn't expect to update this one so quickly, or before my other fics. But this chapter bit me and wouldn't let go. Mostly because we jump perspective to a couple of the ship girls here. That was fun. Hopefully it worked out well.

Chapter Three:

Sleep hadn't come easily to James since his talk with Utah. In point of fact, he had been laying in bed, mind racing as he stared at the ceiling of his slowly rocking cabin for some time. His lingering unease about Utah's statement had made it difficult to find sleep. The idea of the girls doing everything in their power to contact their commanders or crew...well, either mass hallucinations that lead to an equally mass retirement of officers was ahead, or the girls would point at him as the source of their communication. And well...that would end with him in a bad situation. Either he would be thrown into an oh-co-caring psych ward- did they even have those? -or he would be subject to so many questions it wasn't even funny.

So yes, James had been kept awake for quite some time.

In the end, he had fallen into a fitful rest though. His dreams were much the same as his waking thoughts, only instead of the nebulous threat of his superior officers, he saw the much more real threat of the Abyssals. A threat that he shouldn't have to worry about in this time, but that haunted his dreams much as it had during the war. Much as he had a right to worry about the Japanese, at the very least, they weren't unreasonable. Some of their leadership and the culture of the time made it hilariously difficult, but...that was still better than the Abyssals. Monsters that no one could reason with, that existed solely to kill and destroy.

If there was anything James was thankful for, it was that they stayed in his dreams.

"...hmm..."

Dreams that slowly came to an end, as the Admiral felt something brushing against his nose. Opening his eyes, James blinked ever so slowly, as his vision was obscured by a mass of very familiar blue. Slowly bringing a hand up, he swept the mass of blue hair out of his face, a small smile coming to it.

Sara...

Sitting up just as slowly in his small cot, the Admiral turned to look down on the slumbering carrier. Sara's long hair was splayed over her shoulders and his cot, casting her face in shadows. James pushed a bit of it out of the way gently, smile widening when he saw the peaceful look on his closest friend's face. Sara's face was relaxed, lacking the worry that had been so prominent since he had ended up in this situation. That alone was enough to widen his smile.

The fact she had fallen asleep next to his bed, her head falling onto the cot's sparse pillow, just left a warm feeling. The girl always had cared about others like that...and it was good to see somethings didn't change.

Still, I don't want to wake her. She needs the sleep just as much as I did.

As such, James was careful to be quiet as a mouse as he prepared for his day. After all, even if they were comfortably in port for the foreseeable future...an Admiral's duty was never done. He needed to continue working that duty, or questions would be asked. Uncomfortable questions he would really rather not answer at that.

"Time to work..." he muttered softly to avoid waking the slumbering carrier, "I hope that I can get this done quickly...I need to run damage control with Utah..."

And his duty certainly never ended.

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

...Admiral...?

Some time later, Sara lifted her head from the pillow, blinking wide green eyes when she noted that she was once more alone. After a blush stole across her face, when she realized where she had been sleeping. She'd been worried about the Admiral after everything he had been through the previous day, and how fitfully he was sleeping. So she'd...pulled up a chair and sat, watching him and trying everything she could think of to calm his dreams. Apparently she had fallen asleep herself while doing so.

That was so embarrassing.

And yet, a small smile stole across her face, lighting it up like a lamp. Her Admiral hadn't been upset by the awkward position, or he would have done something about it. Sara had observed all her Admirals since her commissioning...if any others had seen her in that position, they would have chewed her a new one! But...her Admiral...he had just left without a word, or any effort to wake her up. Despite the fact he himself had to be exhausted, he had let her get her sleep. That...that was enough to widen her smile, even as it increased her blush.

"He's so kind..." the carrier whispered softly, leaning back in her chair, "I've never seen someone so kind."

Not that she had seen many people...while she was a good ship spirit and always kept watch over her Admiral, she hadn't devoted as much attention to the rest of her multi-thousand man crew. There hadn't been a need to...she couldn't communicate with them. To her crew and former commanders...she was nothing more than thousands of tons of steel and munitions. She wasn't alive.

After all, what reason did they have to believe she had a spirit? Believe that she was ever anything but steel? Sara knew there had been no reason for them to believe that. Until he had changed things. And now...now that had changed. And Sara didn't think she could ever thank her Admiral enough for the chance to talk with someone.

"I have to help him," she nodded sharply, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, "It's the least I can do."

Of course, she didn't know how to help him. She couldn't influence things, not really. And she couldn't talk to anyone but her Admiral, and the other girls. So what could she...

I shouldn't...I really shouldn't...

Maybe it was because it was his, but Sara had discovered last night that she could interact with the Admiral's journal. She hadn't expected that, when she picked it up to point out his mistake on the date of the attack he had mentioned as the 'prototype' for the one he was trying to head off. But instead of her hands going right through it...she'd been able to pick it up.

And now, it was sitting innocuously on his desk, open to a page she couldn't see without going closer.

"I can't help Admiral fight," Sara sighed softly, "But maybe I can help him plan...? I want to do something..."

Deciding that it was better to help than wait, the carrier carefully sat down at the desk, looking down on a journal...a journal marked with her name.

Chain of Events: USS Saratoga

Sara blinked at that, somewhat worried about reading her...her own history. A history she had yet to live, and may not live now anyway. But instead of turning to something more helpful for her Admiral...an unfamiliar feeling awoke inside her. Curiosity, something she had never felt before. Sara was wary, but she needed to know more about what would happen to her. Her Admiral hadn't spoken much about it, not after the first time they had talked. She got the feeling he was uncomfortable with it, for some reason.

Which was part of where her worry came from. Had something happened to her he didn't like talking about?

I need to know...

December 23, '41: Recalled after failure to reinforce Wake Island.

January 11, '42: Torpedoed by Japanese sub.

June 6: Arrives at Pearl, too late to help at Midway.

After that was listed several battles that she had no context for, like 'Eastern Solomons' where she would once more be damaged. In fact, that was something she noticed...there were massive breaks in his notes about her, almost every entry related to damage she took. It was clear her Admiral was worried and was trying to make sure he remembered those dates ahead of anything else related to her. Sara felt her blush return at that...

He cared, he cared about her a lot.

That being said, even her curiosity didn't let her read past 1945. Because her eyes had noted that there were no entries past 1946. And Sara...she didn't want to know how she had died. Not yet. Instead, she forced herself not to look, while turning the page. Unfortunately, she had come up on a page with it's title bearing many eraser marks. Like her Admiral hadn't been in the proper mood to write it, or something like that.

Events Outside My Influence:

"Outside..." Sara breathed, her hand tracing the writing, "Why would he...?"

Why would he be convinced he can't change something?

Sara knew that her Admiral couldn't do everything, not even with the knowledge he had. But surely he could at least make an effort on things, right? After all, he knew so much. Even if people didn't believe him at first, after awhile they'd have to believe him. Once things started happening and he could prove he knew they would happen, that would be it right? It might take some convincing, but nothing was impossible. Especially not for someone as determined as he was!

Even so, she continued reading, if only to see if there was something she could do to help him.

Nazi Germany:

Holocaust:

Hand tracing that single word, Sara slowly read what was written beneath it.

...

...

...no. No. No no no no...

Another unfamiliar feeling went through the carrier as she read. And unlike her curiosity, this was not one she welcomed. Sara could feel a coldness spreading through her chest, her heart rapidly beating as she felt her body shake. Her hands barely held onto the journal, rapidly paling as the book shook so badly she couldn't hold it well enough to keep reading. But what she had seen was more than enough. What she had seen was something she could never believe...would never believe...if it weren't for her trust for her Admiral.

Because it was impossible in any other situation to believe that humanity could be so horrible. Ship spirit or not, Sara considered herself at least somewhat human. She certainly had human emotions, emotions that were on a quicker nose dive than one of her dive bombers. She had never felt this sadness and helplessness before. Her mind helplessly repeating the numbers she had read. Numbers that made anything she had ever thought of, anything her planes were capable of, absolute small fry. Because she knew that even if her pilots ran themselves dry, they could never...would never...do this.

"Six million..." the carrier breathed out, "Just for religion...?"

She wasn't familiar with the differences between her crew's religions. To her, 'Jew' was just a title, nothing more and nothing less. The idea that someone could be so cruel as to kill six million people over such a small thing...she didn't know how that was even possible. And there were at least five million other people killed for the same lack of a good reason, even if different on the face of things.

I...I have to know what else he can't stop.

Sara didn't want to read more. But she had to, if only to understand her Admiral better. She could only imagine how the knowledge he had was weighing him down...and having the knowledge herself would at least help her relate to him. Be someone he could lean on when it got to be too much.

Soviet Union:

Katyn Massacre: Est. 22,000 Polish Nationals.

Prisoner Of War Camps: Up to 2 million, depending on source.

The notebook fell from her hands, as Sara held them to her mouth. Her Admiral had mentioned to her that the Soviet Union were allies. And they had done things like this? Why would they work with people like that? What she had read after the POW camps...it was hardly better than the Germans, if only because it wasn't an institutionalized murder system! How did her Admiral keep going, with the knowledge that this would happen, and he couldn't do anything about it? Especially with the Soviets?

She...she didn't know how he was that strong.

But what she did know was very simple.

I am going to help him through this. I don't know how much I can do, but I won't let my Admiral do this alone. Not after he's shown such kindness towards me.

Saratoga was not the only ship girl/spirit worried about the future however. Aboard her hull, USS Utah sighed softly, running a hand along one of her turrets. No longer were the mighty, for their time, twelve-inch cannons mounted in those frames. Now, she only carried anti-aircraft guns for training. That had never really bothered her before. Utah had long ago accepted that something like that would happen to her. She knew that she was old, and that she would be replaced in the battle line eventually. Her sister...her dear sister...had been scrapped years ago. The fact that she herself was still alive came down entirely to her use as a training ship.

A job that Utah had taken to with enthusiasm, once she realized what she could do with it. She could train the next generation, both human and ship girl, in a way that she couldn't before. It had awoken almost motherly feelings in her, a sense of pride as the younger girls advanced ahead of her. Even when they were shooting at her when she was a target ship, the feeling was still there.

But now...with another sigh, she turned away from the old turret.

"I can't help them now," the girl muttered, falling to her knees, her long dress pulled up as she slid down the turret, "I never thought I would feel this helpless again. Now I know what it feels like, to know something is happening and I can't do a thing about it."

Tears fell down her cheeks at the end of that sentence, as her fists clenched in her dress.

"I hate this! My girls...my...my..." the old battleship sucked in a breath, trying to get it out, "My daughters...I can't do a thing to help them. They're going to be hurt, and I can't defend them."

There was nothing worse for her, than that knowledge. The knowledge that she couldn't help the girls she thought of as daughters, even if that wasn't really true. In any other situation, she would be more than confident the younger battleships could more than handle themselves. But this situation...if what the Admiral had said was true, there was nothing anyone of them could do.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt to know she was even worse off than the rest.

Nothing...I'm nothing...right now. I can't protect anyone like this, not even myself. Oh...I...

Utah had never thought she would hate her post as a training and target ship. But now that she was helpless to defend anyone, even herself, she truly did hate her situation. She couldn't fight to protect her girls...there was only one thing she could do, even if it worried Admiral Thompson. She didn't care about that worry though. Utah acknowledged it, and knew why the man worried, but it was nothing on how she felt about the attack, coming in just a year and a half. If the only thing she could do was this...

She would do it.

"I need to find my Admiral," Utah wiped her face, pale features set into a sharp frown, "I need to make him hear me."

Pulling herself to her feet, the battleship wiped at her grey eyes one last time, pushing her silver hair out of her face as well. It was time to find her Admiral- her Captain, technically -and make him hear her. She didn't know how to do that, or if her efforts would even work...but it didn't matter. They had to work. No matter how long it took, no matter how many tries it would take, she would keep at it.

No matter what, the man would hear her.

"Arizona...Oklahoma...I won't let you die again," the old battleship started walking towards her bridge, determination written in every line of her body, "I don't care if I die. I'll gladly die in your place. I will make sure you live."

That was the only thing the old girl had to live for. Her girls, the most important thing in the world to her. No more was training the next generation the only thing Utah considered worth doing. The only thing she ever did. Now, that was the furthest thing from her mind. All her thoughts were consumed with the knowledge of what was going to happen, and what she would have to do to stop it.

If this was what Admiral Thompson felt like, Utah could say she understood the man, perhaps even better than Saratoga did. And with that understanding, she would work towards the same goal as him. He may not like her methods, but between the two of them...perhaps they might succeed where the people he remembered failed. Succeed in saving at least some of the girls, who would otherwise have died.

Utah fully expected to die. Her old hull couldn't take any real hits, not if someone wanted to sink her. But that didn't matter to her. If she died, so be it. But her girls would not die. She wouldn't allow it.

I will fight for my girls. I will find a way for us to talk to our Admirals, and we can use that to prepare. We won't fail this time. I won't fail this time. If I die, I will at least die knowing I saved them!

Skywalker_T-65 · Dec 20, 2015

Chapter Four:

"It feels so odd to be up here," James muttered, ever so softly, as he stood on the deck of USS Saratoga.

Stars stretched above him, as a cool night breeze tugged at his uniform. He hadn't had time to just...relax...like this, for some time. A week, maybe? Keeping track of time when he was putting so much work into improving things, was rather difficult at best. Being able to just stand on Sara's deck and look up at the night sky, was a lot more relaxing for him than he would normally admit. Especially since light pollution wasn't near as bad as he remembered...he could actually see the stars, quite well actually. It served to remind him of the fact he was in the past, just as much as the gentle roll of the Lexington-class carrier under his feet. He could still hear the bustle of the night watch moving around as well, but that had almost faded into the background, as James let his mind rest.

He wouldn't deny that he needed that rest.

I've been working non-stop. There is so much to do...keeping everyone informed, trying to change tactics to what I remember working...it's never ending!

Sighing softly, he turned his head from the vista of stars and towards the well-lit island he was standing on. The bridge was manned by the night watch, who were well-disciplined enough to not stare at him as he stood outside. The Admiral was thankful for that, since it meant he wasn't being distracted. He had enough distraction, from the message that had finally driven home that he needed to stop and rest.

"Are you okay, Admiral?"

The familiar soft voice had James turn his head from the message crumpled in his hands, to the woman standing next to him. Sara had a worried expression on her face, and had apparently come looking for him since he hadn't returned to his cabin yet today.

Casting another look back at his crew, who had made no signs of looking in his direction, James sighed softly, "Not particularly, no. It wasn't exactly when I thought but..."

"Sir?"

In lieu of risking being caught 'talking to himself', the Admiral just unfurled the paper and held it up like he was reading it. Sara had to get close- something that had her blushing crimson, he noted -to read it, but it was safer that way.

"...France, Admiral?"

James nodded with another sigh, pulling the message back into his pocket, "Yup. I expected them to fall sooner than that, but me just being here is going to change things...at least, to some extent. I hope that it doesn't change the date of you know what, or all I've done is pointless."

Intellectually, the Admiral knew that just because France seemed to take another day or four to surrender- June 26th, as opposed to June 22nd -didn't mean much. It may be as simple as taking longer for the news to arrive. It may not. But logically, even if things were changing in the Butterfly Effect style, Pearl wasn't likely to be one. The Japanese attacked when they did, for very good reason. Still...the idea that just being in the past was changing things...worried him, more than he'd like to admit.

He sure as hell had nothing to do with events on the other end of the world, after all.

"You're worried that what you remember isn't going to be enough, aren't you?" Sara whispered, not moving from her spot next to her Admiral.

"Yeah," James leaned back, worried expression on his face as he looked up at the stars, "Yeah, I am. All I have is those dates and numbers. I'm not experienced in...all of this."

Here, he waved a hand over the darkened deck below him, and the dim running lights of other ships in their patrol formation.

"I commanded you girls, and that was nothing like commanding an entire fleet of full-scale warships. Leave alone doing it without all the technology I grew up on...radios alone would make it so much easier, but we don't have the radios I'm used to. It's...not easy. Not at all."

Sara smiled, softly brushing her shoulder against her Admiral's side, "I'm not."

"You..."

"I trust you Admiral. You may not know as much as my other Admirals did, but you know stuff they don't. Some of those techniques...that 'Weave' in particular...they're very useful. My pilots don't know where you came up with them, but they love them. I think they're jealous they didn't come up with them themselves," Sara's smile was brilliant, lit up as it was by the lights of her bridge, "And I've looked at your notes. Some of these formations are quite innovative. I'm sure they come from future commanders, but even so, even if you didn't create them yourself...they help, a lot."

James couldn't help but smile back, the enthusiasm reminding him of his Sara. The woman in front of him wasn't the same, he had long since noticed that. But at times like this, he could see the confident girl he remembered shining through. Patting her shoulder, the Admiral turned to walk back into the bridge.

"Thanks for that Sara," James let out one last whisper, before nodding at his night watch, and moving back into the ship herself.

He'd spent enough time sightseeing, time to get back to work. He may be running himself ragged, but at least he had a purpose to his madness. Half-remembered theories and maneuvers from training...he had to put them into practice. So many of these had been developed during the War, and so many had been developed in response to the Japanese- notably the Thatch Weave that Sara had mentioned -that introducing them early would drastically improve the situation. He knew that most of them wouldn't spread far beyond Saratoga and maybe Lexington before the war started, but every little bit helped.

And the only thing keeping him going was improving the lot of these girls and their crews. If he stopped to think about his situation, stuck in the past where his great-grandfather was younger than him. And where he had to fight the Japanese, whom he had many friends among...it would overwhelm him. The idea of possibly sinking the likes of Akagi or Kongou, made him feel sick almost as much as the idea of Ari and Utah still being destroyed.

I'm not cut out for this, I know that. But I'm the one here, and the only one who can do anything to improve the odds for my girls and my men. I have to focus on that.

That, and the lingering worry that Abyssals may still appear. He didn't know if his jaunt into the past was their doing or not, but the odds that it wasn't related to the still-slumbering enemy of humanity...well, they weren't great.

"I think it's time I taught you about the Abyssals," James spoke up, once the two were safely alone in his cabin.

"The Abyssals?" Sara had a worried look on her face now.

But it was nothing on the entirely serious expression her Admiral wore.

"Yes. The Abyssals...the most dangerous threat to all of us."

"I don't understand it sir. No one is operating the sets, but it still shows signs of use. Like a ghost."

"Nonsense, no ghost could possibly exist, leave alone use our radio."

"I know sir, but I'm telling you, someone used the TBS and it wasn't me."

The commanding officer of USS Utah, one John Kirkpatrick, shook his head, "Then we have someone deciding to play a joke. And when I find them, they'll wish they hadn't."

A shudder ran through the radio operator, though he hid it well, "Right. Well, I'll keep an eye on the set and make sure no one else uses it sir."

"Good man."

Nodding at his subordinate, John left the cramped radio room, a late retrofit to such an old ship. It barely saw any use for the most part, and it was easy to forget Utah even had it. His ship wasn't a frontline combatant, so the fact she even had it had more to do with the need to make sure she could communicate when training other crews. Which made the idea that someone was using it all the harder to believe. Not very many of the crew were even trained on how to operate the Talk Between Ships set. The few who were should really know better than to mess around with it.

John wasn't a harsh commander, or so he liked to believe. But he wouldn't tolerate people pushing his patience either. His crew was supposed to be disciplined, peacetime and training ship be damned. Just because they wouldn't see active combat aboard Utah didn't mean they could slack off and play around like that! So he was going to gather each and every one of the crewmembers he knew were trained in operating that set, and figure out which one of them thought it would be a good idea.

I don't have a choice anyway. Command is on me to find out what's going on.

It didn't help that the Radio Station had picked up signal static. It wasn't like outright communication was going on between the ships, but at the same time, there was strange static in the airwaves all around the harbor. Static that had no definable source, but seemed to match up with TBS sets.

"Someone's playing the biggest prank in history, and I'll find out who it is," the man muttered darkly, as he walked down the length of his old ship.

What he didn't notice, was that he had a figurative and literal shadow trailing him.

"This is inconvenient," Utah herself muttered, following behind her Captain, "Very inconvenient. I hadn't realized they could recognize we were talking together."

This threw a wrench in her plans. She had been coordinating with the other girls, especially Arizona, on a way to talk to their commanders. But she didn't like the idea that the radio communications could be overheard. Granted, it hadn't reached the point where they could be overheard, or there would be a witch hunt for women aboard the ships. But the point remained.

That being said...

"On the other hand, this could work in my favor," a small smile crossed her face, as the aging battleship brushed some of her grey hair from her eyes, "If my Admiral and the others can realize we are communicating, it's a step towards talking to them. And I need to warn him...warn him about the attack. I know that Admiral Thompson doesn't want to risk us sortieing, and I understand that...but..."

Cutting her monologue off, Utah held a hand to her chest. She could feel the beat of her heart, strong and steady. And she knew that if things occurred the way Saratoga's Admiral said they would, that heart would stop beating...just as the same would be true for Arizona and Oklahoma. And stopping that, was the reason she needed to talk to her Captain. Make him understand what was coming, and how to stop it. Or at least, mitigate the damage. She was confident that she could convince him not to ask for the exact date...just a greater preparedness would be enough. It had to be enough.

With that in mind, she moved to get in front of John, who made no signs of noticing her.

"Can you hear me Admiral?" Utah asked, focusing on making her voice heard. Somehow.

"I swear, if this is Blake again, that kid is going to have to deal with a lot more than a slap on the wrist this time..." John darkly muttered, walking right past Utah.

Who sighed, and moved to be in front of him again, "Sir! Please, tell me you at least hear something! I need you to hear me!"

"And now I think there's flies in here," the Commander frowned, slapping at the air by his ear.

Well, that was something at least.

"At least you're hearing something sir," Utah sagged slightly, as she placed a hand on her Captain's shoulder, "I can take that much, at least for now. We have time until the attack."

What she hadn't expected, was John to grind to a halt, his face going pale as a sheet. His brown eyes trailed down to where Utah's hand was, looking like he had seen a...

"Ghost? Something's touching me..." shaking himself free, the career military man had an uncharacteristic look of shock on his face, "No, no. The ship is not haunted. That's...not possible. No, I'm just imagining things. Too much work lately, that's it. Too much work..."

Continuing to mutter under his breath, the man moved down the hall, not once looking back. For her part, Utah looked at her hand, shock on her own pretty face. Well, if she had expected anything, it wasn't that. Feeling another body...she didn't know how to describe it. It was like nothing else she had experienced before. Utah had only ever felt her own body, both steel and flesh and bone. She had never once felt another human before. The soft feeling, hiding strong muscles. The rough feeling of his uniform, cotton running over her fingers.

Even if the sensation had been all too temporary, she didn't know how to feel about it.

"Is this what Saratoga feels like?" Utah wondered aloud, as she held the hand to her heart again, "To feel someone else? Know that you're alive as more than just a mass of steel?"

If so, she could...get used to it.

"I...I don't know how to feel about what you've just told me, Admiral."

James sighed softly, as he looked at his oldest friend, "I know, it's hard to believe Sara. Trust me, I lived through it, and I still find it difficult."

"But sir...corrupted spirits? Ships that came back...wrong...and existed only to kill everything? That would gleefully slaughter civilians and soldiers alike?" Sara couldn't wrap her head around the notion.

Ships existed to serve their nations and crews, not slaughter innocent civilians. Even pirate ships surely felt remorse at what their crews made them do. Right?

"We never did truly understand the Abyssals," James frowned, looking down at his hands, "They didn't talk, they didn't try to communicate. All it was, was blood, blood and more blood with them. Any attempts at communicating ended with dead envoys. Not even Ship Girls could get through."

"Admiral?"

"I saw far too many friends, good friends, die at their hands Sara...my nightmares are still filled with glowing blue eyes. I almost lost you on more occasions than I care to remember, before we finally started pushing them back. So many brave men, women and girls died fighting that war, but we were winning. The Abyssals were in full retreat, and given time, we might have found their homes."

The Admiral sighed again, looking up at worry filled green eyes, a small smile crossing his face.

"But then I woke up here, aboard you. I don't know or understand the hows or whys of my situation. But I do know, that there isn't a chance in hell it doesn't involve those monsters."

Sara frowned slightly, "But if you were winning..."

"It would be in their interests to reverse the progress. I understood them better than most, if only because of how long I served against them. I fought Abyssals off the West Coast, in South America, and finally in Yokosuka. I, along with Admiral Goto on the Japanese side, knew more about fighting them than just about anyone. Removing me from the equation..."

"Would reverse their losses?"

James nodded, "That's what I believe. Of course, I have no way to confirm that theory. Abyssals never showed anything like time travel, not in the long time I spent fighting them. Yet, I don't have any other explanation available. Why they would send me back...I may never know. But it worries me...if the Abyssals were to attack now, we wouldn't stand a chance in hell against them. Our ship girls...outside a few outliers, the Royal Navy for the most part, were always ships from this war."

Hesitating for a second, James looked down once more. It wasn't an easy topic to talk about...by any means.

"And those outliers, beyond older battleships like Dreadnought or the Imperial German ships, were ships from the Age of Sail. Those girls had a lot of energy, and I respected them for that and the fact they did everything they could to help. But they were worse than useless in actual combat, even though I hate saying that. In this situation? Short of sinking our navy in the middle of a World War...I don't know what we can do. Conventional weapons were more than insufficient for combating Abyssals...it was almost suicide, with their numbers," James sighed heavily, "Maybe weapons of this time would work better, since we rely less on electronics that could be jammed. I don't know...I don't know, and it haunts me."

That was the truth of the matter. As much as he worried about the War, and what it would put him and the girls through, he worried far more about the Abyssals. If they came back...he shuddered to think of the losses. Hundreds of thousands of sailors and soldiers could be on the seas at any given time in the mid-to-late war. All of them would be horribly vulnerable to Abyssal attacks, perhaps even more so than in his time, thanks to the lack of truly global instant communication. And the situation for island nations...Japan was pushing herself to the realistic limits as it sat. Britain couldn't rely on a friendly France and the Channel Tunnel to supply her, when the shipping lanes were cut off.

Moreover, it would leave Germany to run rampant over Europe, along with the Soviets, because there wasn't any way the Allied Navies could manage Overlord or even Torch or Huskey, in waters teeming with Abyssals. So yes, the thought of the monsters that haunted his dreams coming back...terrified James, on so many levels.

"Oh..." Sara though, she didn't have the same fear. All she did was sit next to him on the cot, hesitantly pulling her Admiral into a hug, "Don't worry Admiral. I'm sure they won't come back...and if they do, we'll find a way to beat them. We have you here. We won't be going in fighting them blind. You know how to fight them, and can teach us. Right?"

Flushing despite himself, the Admiral nodded, "That is true. I just don't..."

"Don't worry sir. At least, not for now. If they come back, we can deal with it then right? For now, we need to rest and prepare for what we know is coming."

Damn Pearl Harbor...right, I can't let the Abyssals make me forget about that.

Smiling at the carrier, James nodded, and got up to prepare for sleep. He could think more on this with a clearer head in the morning...that always helped. And if the Abyssals did come back at some point?

Well, cross that bridge when the time came.

AN: My Google-fu has failed me, when it comes to Utah's commanding officers. I have at least the name of the man in charge during the attack on Pearl, but beyond that...OC time. I try to be accurate where I can, but sometimes...yeah.

Skywalker_T-65 · Dec 26, 2015

Chapter Five:

The old saying that war was ninety-nine percent boredom and one percent terror would seem to have been accurate. James sighed softly, as he looked out at Sara's taskforce, sailing in formation as they were on a routine patrol. Technically it wasn't war yet, but that just made the saying even more apt...there was nothing happening, other than routine peacetime duties. On the one hand, that meant he didn't have to worry about fighting or getting one of his girls hurt. And the Admiral did think of the entire task force as 'his' girls, just like his fleet back...home. Right down to the smallest destroyer, sailing along in the distance. He could only see the steel hulls from this position, but the Admiral...well, he could easily imagine the energetic little girls sailing laps around the massive carrier.

All that being said, the position of waiting for the other shoe to drop, was starting to get to him.

James knew that nothing substantial would happen, at least so far as the American Pacific Fleet was concerned, until that fateful day in December '41. A date over a year and a half away. A year and a half of worrying and waiting, wondering if what he had done changed anything for the better. It was not a position he liked to be in. At least during his service during the Abyssal War, there had never been such long periods of waiting with no idea of what to do. It was almost enough to wish he had woken up in the Royal Navy or something, where he could have more tangible results.

No...I can't think that way. I may have been able to save Hood or Prince of Wales and Repulse, but I'm happy where I am. This waiting is horrible, but I can influence more events here. Save more girls. And I wouldn't want to be apart from Sara, anyway.

Shaking his head ruefully, the Admiral looked out as a CAP of Brewster Buffalos took off from Sara's flightdeck. The stubby little fighters were an interesting sight to be sure...he had needed to remind himself the Wildcat wasn't in service yet, when he first saw them in the hangar. It had also forced him to adjust his training programs, since the Buffalo wasn't the best plane in the world and a lot of the half-remembered books he had read had tactics developed for the Wildcat and later fighters.

That said...

"Admiral?"

Clearing his thoughts, James turned around, where an Ensign was holding a message out for him to take.

"Priority message from Pearl, Sir."

Nodding at the younger man, the Admiral took the message and turned back to read it.

"Carrier Division One is to return to Pearl Harbor immediately. Upon arrival, Carrier Division One will be reorganized according to orders from Admiral Richardson. Admiral Thompson is to meet with Admiral Richardson at soonest possible opportunity."

"Reorganization..." James muttered, rereading the message, "Well I'll be damned...I wonder if they listened to what I suggested."

"Suggested?"

If James weren't a veteran soldier, he might have flinched or even jumped at the sudden question. As it sat, he merely turned his eyes slightly, a small smile crossing his face at Sara. The carrier was quite good at appearing out of nowhere. Then again, the ship was her, so she probably could be anywhere at once if she wanted.

"I wrote a...thesis," the Admiral replied, careful to ensure he wasn't overheard as usual, "Like with the Weave, but I submitted it to Richardson for review. I put everything I can remember about carrier tactics in there, within reason. Like improved formations, to take advantage of tactics that were developed during the war. If we're going back to Pearl for 'reorganization' its probably because of that."

Sara nodded seriously, her face a mask of concentration, "I read over those tactics myself, they are quite innovative Admiral."

"Yeah, you said as much before. Still, I'm glad that Richardson is a forward thinking man. If he manages to avoid getting the President angry, he may stick around long enough for these ideas to stick too. It would certainly improve our chances at Coral Sea and Midway."

The serious expression on Sara's face fell off, replaced by a sad downturn of her lips. Coral Sea, after all, was where her dear sister had fallen. And Midway...if she hadn't been being refit from that torpedo strike, she might have been there as well, and Yorktown may have survived. If nothing else, having four carriers against four, would have evened the odds somewhat and made reliance on surprise a bit less of a condition.

Still, that was in the future.

"I'm looking forward to seeing the other girls again," James continued, looking out at the rolling form of a destroyer in the distance, "Not that it's not nice having you here Sara, but I do enjoy talking to the others."

"Not as much as we enjoy talking to you," the carrier smiled softly, her momentary lapse of mood forgotten, "Believe me on that sir. None of us ever realized it was possible to talk like this, and being able to, even if only with you so far...we love it. I for one, didn't know what I was missing until you woke up that day."

The...earnest...tone to Sara's voice had James smiling slightly. He often forgot that these girls weren't like the ones he remembered. The period of adjusting to being human, or as close as ship girls could get to human, had always been a problem to work through. But they had the advantage of being very much visible, with multiple people to talk to.

These girls?

Well, they had no one to talk to before he had arrived, but each other. And if Sara was any indication, it was rare for the girls to talk among each other. For whatever reason. His trip to the past had drastically changed all of that. Was it for the better? He liked to think so, as it would at the least give the girls a way to interact with others. But if Utah succeeded in her plans...

The Navy, hell the world, sure as hell isn't ready to learn that the ships most certainly do have souls. Souls that are all female, of varying ages. Souls that are always here, and perfectly willing to talk.

He could well remember the first return of the kanmusu of Japan. The public uproar over the idea of ship girls was immense. It would only be worse in this time, a time not ready for it. Especially as the ships were still there, along with their spirits. But he knew he couldn't do anything to stop Utah. And, if James was being completely honest with himself, after time to think on the subject...he wished her luck. Was the world not ready? Certainly. Were his own plans somewhat harmed by Utah's work? Also true.

But all that being said, these girls could do a lot of good if they could talk with their commanders. It would be another view, and no one knew how to use ships as well as the souls of the ships themselves. There were huge risks, but especially if the Abyssals came back, the benefits were much larger.

"Come on," pushing those thoughts aside for the moment, James walked towards the bridge proper, "Time to get back to Pearl."

"Yes sir!"

If there was more a spring in Sara's step than usual, James didn't notice it.

"Look, Sara's back!"

"I noticed Arizona. It is good to see, I have a lot to talk to Admiral Thompson about."

"Don't we all? I mean, you're the furthest along Utah, but we all got somethin going on with our Captains."

"True."

Arizona only barely listened to the discussion, as she stood on the wooden deck of her hull. Her brown eyes were looking out on the harbor. Saratoga, Lexington, and their escorts were pulling in, and moving to their assigned berths. The powerful battleship's eyes were fully focused on the first of those ships however, where she knew the man who had first talked to her was stationed. She hadn't even made an attempt to talk to her own Admiral as of yet, waiting for Admiral Thompson to return. Waiting for a couple weeks, in fact. To a battleship that was twenty-four years old, one would think a couple weeks wouldn't be noticed.

But these were the longest two weeks in the entire time Arizona had been in commission.

After all, never before had she felt the need to talk to someone like this. Never before had she had something to look forward to, and mark the days as anything but the sun rising and setting. It was a new feeling, that was for sure! But not a bad one either, if anything, she felt her heart fluttering more than ever before as she held a dainty hand to it. If Arizona had any control of her hull at all, she imagined her boilers would be firing at full power. She didn't know what this feeling was, but...

I don't...I don't mind it. I wonder if Admiral Thompson can explain it?

With a small smile crossing her face, the petite battleship turned her attention back to the harbor. She could see a launch detach from Saratoga, heading in her direction. She wasn't sure what her Admiral had done to convince Admiral Richardson to use...her...for this meeting. But she wasn't going to turn down a chance to see the man who had talked to her!

"Admiral!" she called out, moving to stand where the launch would pull alongside her hull.

The familiar dark haired figure looked up at her, a single eyebrow quirked in an obvious question. He didn't say anything back to her though, likely because of the escort around him. Arizona couldn't blame him for that, even if she dearly wanted to talk to the man. She knew, and somewhat understood, that he couldn't be seen talking to someone who wasn't there.

Still, hopefully he will be able to talk with me before he leaves!

She stood by the side of her hull, as the Admiral left his launch and walked aboard, using the actual facilities for it this time. He saluted the men who greeted him, though his eyes were on her. Smiling at that, Arizona returned the salute herself, ignoring the way her auburn hair got in the way. Admiral Thompson's lips tugged upwards into a small smile, making a warm feeling go through the battleship.

"Is Admiral Richardson here?" that question was directed at the Marine guards, though Arizona answered first.

"No, not yet Admiral. I believe he should be here soon though."

Nodding at the answer, and the Marine's similar reply, Admiral Thompson looked out at the harbor, "I think I'll stay here and wait for him then, if that's alright?"

The Marines shared a look, before their Sergeant nodded, "Of course, Admiral. Admiral Willson mentioned you may want to."

"I see my reputation precedes me," Admiral Thompson chuckled lightly, as he nodded at the Marines.

They looked admirably professional, despite clear confusion in their eyes. Arizona couldn't help a giggle at that, holding a petite hand to her mouth. The Admiral's lips twitched, as he shook his head slightly and moved far enough away that they couldn't hear him. It was only once he appeared to be comfortable with where he was, that the man turned his head to look back at Arizona. Who smiled up at him, bumping her shoulder into his side. The feeling of her body brushing against his was a tangible reminder of what she had wanted.

To be able to feel and talk with someone else.

That meant more to her than she could readily put to words, and was the main reason the girl was so excited to see Admiral Thompson again. If his smile was any indication, he was probably happy to see her as well. Considering what had happened to the...other Arizona, she could imagine why.

"It's good to see you Admiral," Arizona whispered softly, her smile widening as the man nodded at her.

"Good to see you too, Ari," Admiral Thompson reached down to ruffle her hair, despite the cover in the way, "Very good to see you actually. Much as I like Sara, it's nice to see another of you girls once in a while."

Flushing slightly, the battleship brought a hand up to her hair, the feeling of his hand on her head not fading in the slightest, "Believe me, it's a lot better for me Admiral! I can't thank you enough for...this. All of this."

Admiral Thompson raised an eyebrow, "Hmm?"

Arizona flushed brighter, "Talking to me. Being able to touch each other. I didn't know what I was missing, until I met you."

The battleship's grin was bright enough to outshine the sun, as she looked up at the Admiral

"So, thank you. Thank you."

The Admiral just smiled, before looking out at the harbor, "It's not a problem at all, Ari. I'm glad that I could do something for you. God only knows you girls deserve better than what you've been given. Even if it's just something as small as helping you talk, that's...something I'm glad I can do."

His voice grew softer at the end, as the man looked out at where Saratoga floated in the distance. There was a distant look in his eyes, nothing like anything Arizona had seen before. A worried expression crossed her face at that, as the battleship moved closer to the Admiral. She felt...odd...to do it, but she leaned against his side, her head pillowed against the Admiral's arm. Arizona could feel his breathing, slow and steady, with only a slight hitch to it. Turning soft brown eyes up at him, she blinked as the Admiral's face morphed into a weak frown. Almost like he was holding something back.

Admiral...what's bothering you?

Arizona couldn't bring herself to say that aloud, as she hesitantly leaned more closely to the man. He didn't resist, perhaps because if he did it would look strange to the Marines. Or perhaps, he didn't mind her actions. Part of her would like to think that was the case, at any rate.

"Are you alright, Admiral?" she whispered softly, finally getting up the nerve to ask that question.

"No. I had put it out of my mind, focusing on tactics and things of that nature," Admiral Thompson wearily replied, looking down at his free hand, as he clenched it by his side, "But looking at the harbor just reminded me...as did what you said. I'm doing everything I can to help you all, but...it always feels like it's not enough. You being thankful for something as small as being able to talk to me...it reminds me that if I don't do my best, or if my best just isn't enough...that will be all I can give you."

Admiral Thompson sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at the water beneath them.

"And I don't like that idea. I worry that all I've done is give you all false hope. False hope to ever talk to anyone but me, when I don't even know how you can talk to me. False hope that I can save you all, when I'm just...just one man. I need to keep working or these thoughts..."

He sighed again, clenching a fist against his side.

Arizona...didn't know what to do in this situation. Her experience was woefully inadequate. All she could do, was lean against the Admiral, and speak softly herself.

"I'm sure we can figure something out. And...if I still die, I don't blame you at all for giving me this, Admiral. You've given me something to be happy about, and if it's all I ever get, I'm happy with that," the battleship whispered, not moving from her position, "And I can't thank you enough for that. If I'm fated to die on that day, so be it."

Here, she moved her head away, brown eyes looking into green. A small, but very genuine, smile crossed her face.

"But I won't die. You're here to help us all, and if Utah can manage to figure out how to get through to her Captain, then we can all do the same. And then we can figure out a way to set things up to where the Japanese don't surprise us. Right?"

Admiral Thompson smiled weakly, "Yeah...right. I certainly hope so."

Turning away with her small smile refusing to die, Arizona went back to her previous position. The Admiral merely looked out at the harbor, watching the gentle swaying of Saratoga. And, of course, watching for Admiral Richardson. The moment the other man arrived, it would be time for a discussion that Arizona was ill-equipped to help in. But even if the only thing she could do was stay by Admiral Thompson's side for moral support, she would do it.

I can't thank him enough for...all of this. But I can help, even if it's only this. I know that Sara probably feels the same way, as well. We will all help him. He's doing everything he can for us, so we need to do the same!

....

....

...

...

...

"Orders from London. You are to open fire on the French Fleet. Do not allow any ships to run the blockade."

AN: As mentioned before, an omake for Mers-el-Kebir is coming. Either from me, or any of my readers who wants a crack at it. Too much potential not to do it.

Skywalker_T-65 · Jan 1, 2016

Omake: Friend against Friend

"Why would we possibly have a reason to attack the French? I'm not a fan of how they surrendered, but they're still allies."

HMS Hood asked that question, even though she instinctively knew there would be no answer. There never had been. She was a silent observer, watching her crew busy themselves at their tasks. Her tall hat, not unlike that worn by Admiral Nelson himself, hid her eyes as the battlecruiser looked out from her crew and towards her fleet. Force H, out of Gibraltar. Not her usual assignment by any means, and that was leaving aside the reason they were here in the first place. A reason that had her increasingly uncomfortable, and had managed to make the girl ask her rhetorical question. A question that she knew wouldn't be answered, as her Captain had never once heard her before.

Even so, Hood had felt the need to voice her concerns.

It was a fact that she, like many in Britain, were angry at how easily the French had folded to the Germans. They had failed in a way that their father's hadn't, and surrendered to the Nazis. As a battlecruiser, Hood didn't understand land conflict nor politics. Even so, there was frustration at the fact that with the French surrender, her nation stood alone against the Germans. However, it was frustration, not uncontrollable rage. Surrender or no, the French were still friends. They would never willingly hand over their ships to the Nazis. Right?

And yet, here we are. Bloody hell...

Despite her own opinions on the matter, Hood's hull floated with Force H, outside the French African port of Mers-el-Kébir. It was not a position she enjoyed being in. Hood was designed, and believed in, fighting on the high seas. Bottling up a fleet like this, where they couldn't fight back properly? That was far from honorable, and rankled her in its own right. The fact that these ships were allies, and in some cases even friends, made her all the more upset. The idea of opening fire on friends and comrades, even if their government had given up the fight, had her sick to her stomach in a way nothing else ever had.

"Resume formation," her Captain was ordering, as her hull swayed beneath her. Hood felt her body change direction, turning to present her heavy broadside at the French harbor.

Negotiations must have broken down, then.

"I don't like this..." the battlecruiser tugged her hat down further, hiding the pain in her brilliantly blue eyes, "I don't like this at all. What is our government bloody thinking? This isn't what we're supposed to be doing, not to friends."

If Hood had any way to contact her fellow members of Force H, she would. But at the moment, she couldn't. And wouldn't...part of the battlecruiser was worried of what she would hear. Not every ship was so understanding of the French surrender. Or, rather, so willing to remember that the French were friends and allies who had bled beside brave British soldiers.

"But here we are, ready to shoot them when they're defenseless against it. Lord, I hate this."

But the girl had no control of her own body. It was hers, the metal and wood beneath her. But Hood had no more control over it than her crew had over her. She was reduced to watching, feeling her turrets loaded with their heavy 15in shells. She didn't need to look, to know that Valiant and Resolution were doing much the same. Or to know that Ark Royal was sending her big Skuas and archaic-looking Swordfish into the air. Combat formation, for the first real time in her long service history. Hood had sailed in combat formation before. Her hull had been hit, all too recently, by Jerry dive bombers.

But this would be the first time she had done so, with the full intention of firing her guns in anger.

Never thought my first salvo in anger would be at friends. Damn it all. Damn it all to hell.

Hood watched helplessly, as her crew began following barked out orders. Orders that had her massive guns firing, salvos directed at the helpless French ships. Her eyes followed those shells, able to see as far as the highest watchman aboard her could see. The battlecruiser could see her shells falling among her friends and comrades, as shells from her fleet did the same. She couldn't hear the screams of the French crews, or see them running to try and prepare for an attack they probably had not really, truly, believed would come.

And yet, her fleet continued to fire. Her own guns blasted another broadside, shells hitting a target instead of merely bracketing the French vessels. The old battleship Bretagne, older than even herself or her comrades. Hood watched, as the French girl's stern was blown apart by her own magazines, penetrated by fire it had never been designed to stop.

"I'm sorry..." Hood breathed out, averting her eyes from the slaughter, "So sorry."

She would have no qualms in an honorable duel with the Germans. Maybe that new battleship they were building...Bismarck, wasn't it? But shooting helpless targets that should, by all rights, be on her side? This was something she couldn't watch. Bretagne had died in fire from her friends, and Hood knew that she would only be the first causality of this day. Lord only knew how many French sailors had died in that fire.

This was so very wrong, on every level.

And so, she couldn't bring herself to keep watching. It was far too painful, even for a warship designed to sink other vessels. Hood would not watch this great betrayal, not if she could help it. Her crew didn't need her to operate her weapons, and so, the battlecruiser would let them follow orders. It did little to change the fact that if she could control her own actions, she wouldn't be doing so. If Hood had control of her weapons, she would have wrenched them back to her bow and stern, and refused to fire. She would never fire on unsuspecting friends.
Sadly, this was war on a scale not seen since the horrors of the Great War. And honor...honor had fallen by the wayside, in the interests of keeping the Germans from stealing the French ships. Her homeland had neglected her fleet, neglected it to the point the Germans could potentially challenge their control of the seas. And now the French were going to pay the price for that. Pay it in blood and fire, destroyed by their allies.

"Never again...never again will I let this happen," Hood clenched a fist in her redcoat, looking down at her hull, "I can't allow this...this stain on my honor to happen again. The French will never forgive us for this, and it is more than we deserve for doing this to our comrades. This will not continue, if I can do anything about it."

But as her hull continued to rock with broadsides, Hood didn't know what she could do, to stop this from happening again. She clearly couldn't talk to her crew. If she could, she would have been screaming at them to get her in a refit already. The battlecruiser walked with a limp these days, representing the truly deplorable state of her engines. She would never make full speed, not without a very thorough rebuild. But that was her own problem, her own issues. And while talking with her crew might help there...

Well, not even for the darling Pride of the Navy, would they disobey orders. And with that knowledge in mind...all Hood could do, was look away from Mers-el-Kébir. Try to ignore the feeling of her guns firing, knowing what they were shooting at.

I...I'm sorry. This should never have happened.

Sometime earlier

"They're just sitting out there..."

"Indeed."

"The English wouldn't attack us, right?"

Dunkerque was silent, as she looked out at the Royal Navy ships holding formation outside the harbor. Her sister's voice echoed in her ears, the worry quite clear in her tone. They had spoken those words, before moving apart to prepare for potential battle. Now, she couldn't contact her sister vocally, even if she wanted. All she could do, was look out, and hope the British didn't go through with their threats. And surely, surely, they wouldn't. Dunkerque was well aware, even as a warship, that her people had no choice but to sue for peace with the Germans.

Yes, it was an abandonment of the fight. Yes, it left the English to fight the war alone. But enough French lives had been spent on a hopeless fight.

Yet, here they were. The French battleship swiped her dark hair from her eyes, storm grey pools looking out at the exit of her new home port. Hood was easily the most recognizable of the British ships, even at this distance. That was not a comforting sight however, not like it was at one point in time. Now, they weren't allies. Dunkerque would like to believe they were still friends and comrades in blood, but they weren't allies. And Hood...Hood's guns were substantially better than her own, pride in her construction aside. Age aside. If it came to blows, that battlecruiser was more than capable of sinking her.

Damn Englishman, we would never work with the Germans. I would sooner sink myself, and I'm sure my crew would as well!

Still, there wasn't a chance the British would actually fire on them. That would be a violation of the newfound French neutrality. Not to mention, it would be firing on a former ally. Any good blood gained by the English fighting in France would be lost if they went that far. Not even that warhound Churchill would go that far. There would be a lot of saber rattling until it was decided that the French fleet go to America, or something along those lines. There wasn't a need to worry about anything else. After all, not even the English were that stupid.

"Incoming fire!"

The battleship's head snapped up, grey eyes widening in disbelief. Dull thunder roared from the Med, as flashes of fire obscured Hood and her escorts.

"Those...those..." Dunkerque was speechless, as she saw the tell-tale signs of gunfire, "Those English bas..."

Before she could even finish that sentence, the battleship was flung around on her hull. Massive splashes of water...15in shells...flew up around her. Water crashed down on her deck, soaking her crew as they scrambled to battlestations. Her own turrets began to turn to return fire, even as more shells fell around her. Dunkerque narrowed her eyes at the distant form of Hood, almost hidden under smoke from her gunfire.

They actually did it. They're actually firing on us!

Anger flashed through the French girl, as her own guns finally returned fire. It was far from effective fire however. Her crew was inexperienced, unprepared for actual combat, and the rest of the fleet was little better. They returned fire, but the salvos were long. Not one shell came near to hitting the British battlecruiser and her accompanying battleships. The Royal Navy's fire, on the other hand, was far more accurate. Dunkerque felt the pressure from near misses on her hull. Wincing, the French woman did her best to keep her eyes on Hood, even if she had no control of her ship.

At least, until a resounding roar knocked her from her feet.

What? What was...no. No no no.

Dragging herself up, Dunkerque leaned against her hull, wide eyes staring in stunned disbelief. Bretagne, the closest thing to an elder stateswoman the fleet in Africa had, was gone. Her stern was ablaze, blown clean open by a shell from one of the big English guns. Dunkerque could make out the form of her counterpart as well...the older battleship lay on her hull's deck, smoke surrounding her. There was nothing but red past her hips, as her crew ran around, trying to save their doomed ship. Dunkerque felt the harsh sting of tears in her eyes, and it had nothing to do with the choking smoke from the burning Bretagne. Angrily wiping those tears from her eyes, the French girl glared out at the British.

"Hood...you and the others were our comrades. Comrades don't attack each other!"

The French girl held her arm out, only wishing that she could actually guide her turrets and shells. All her anger meant nothing however, as the shells from her powerful- but not powerful enough -guns continued to do no more than bracket the English ships. Not one shell from her, or her sister, even came close to hitting. Even as Mogador, a poor destroyer, took a shell in the same spot that Bretagne had. Her thin armor did nothing to impede the shell...perhaps saving her from a magazine detonation, but leaving her unable to do more than beach herself to avoid sinking.

And Dunkerque could hardly spare any attention to that.

"Gah!"

For two 15in shells from the British, perhaps even from Hood, punched through her armor. Armor never designed to resist shells of that caliber, crumpled as the shells punched through. One shattered the roof of her first turret, putting the guns there out of action. The second shot through her belt, and from there, through her boilers. Dunkerque fell to her deck, clutching her bleeding left arm, as her legs gave out under her. Her hull slid to a halt, her crew doing everything they could to beach her...prevent her from sinking, at the least.

Through pain filled eyes, Dunkerque watched as her sister and a quartet of destroyers made full speed out of the harbor, moving to escape the British, who had re-positioned to avoid shorefire. The elder battleship could only watch, knowing she couldn't follow. She may never be able to follow, if the damage was too great. And as Bretagne rolled over, another even larger detonation shaking the harbor, Dunkerque could do nothing but slide down, unable to even muster the energy to lay on her knees.

Damn you England...damn you...

Dunkerque felt her eyes slide shut, the panicked shouts of her crew trying to save her echoing in her ears. Along with the dull sound of gunfire and exploding munitions. The greatest betrayal of the War, where friend became enemy. Where comrade killed comrade. All for a paranoid reason, that would never have come to pass.

Skywalker_T-65 · Jan 13, 2016

Took a bit longer than anticipated, but here we are with chapter 6. Which will also be the last one before our first timeskip, so there's that. With over a year and a half until Pearl (the end of Act/Arc 1), we kinda need timeskips or it would become a lot of chapters. That said, it won't be too massive a skip.

Chapter Six: Dreams

Well, that went about as well as I could hope...

James had a small smile on his face, as he exited the meeting with his fellow Admirals. The talks in there had, to some extent, gone over his head. He had made his name in commanding ship girls, not proper warships. Even so, he felt that the suggestions he had made- even if only half-remembered -were being put to good use. New formations, new ways of thinking. He didn't expect something like the late-war Carrier Taskgroups by any means. James knew there weren't enough carriers until the Essex sisters came online for that. He also knew that it would take more than even having Richardson's ear to make that work. There was going to be a lot of, completely justifiable for the times, resistance to his ideas.

And for all that James was in an unusually advantageous position, he couldn't do everything. Even Admiral Richardson could only do so much, were the forward-thinking man even willing to listen to all the ideas.

If Admiral Thompson had to make a comparison, he was in the same trap that Billy Mitchell had been in. His suggestions on carrier doctrine were as revolutionary as the man who redefined air power. And if he wasn't careful, he and Admiral Richardson would go down in the same manner. Billy Mitchell had been too caught up in his ideas and visions of the future, and managed to insult and aggravate damn near everyone in power. The same potential was here, in what James was trying to do. He could pass off being a 'carrier man', and use that to his advantage. But if he pushed too hard and too fast, the battleship skippers would fight back and...

Well, that was something he couldn't afford.

"Are you okay Admiral?" Ari's worried voice dragged him from those thoughts, even as it widened the smile on his face.

The battleship next to him, petite body covered in her loose fitting blue overcoat, was looking up at him worriedly. Her brown eyes were wide, and filled with concern. James felt rather bad for worrying her like that, and leaned enough to the side to brush his shoulder against hers.

I'm not blind. I've noticed that Ari likes physical contact...poor girl probably never had the option for it before...

"..."

Ari didn't vocally respond to the move, but she did lean her head on the Admiral's shoulder. That managed to get a brief chuckle out of James, as he managed to walk without shifting the girl's position. The Ari he remembered, was not this touchy. But as he constantly needed to remind himself, these girls weren't the ones he remembered. He needed to stop thinking like they were, but it was...hard, at times.

"That looked like it was hard for you," the battleship finally spoke up again, voice soft and low as they exited onto her deck.

James sighed softly at that, replying just as lowly, "I never thought it would be easy, Ari."

"How so?" there was honest curiosity in her voice, as Arizona looked up at him.

This really wasn't the place to talk about that, but the look on Ari's face, brown eyes wide with interest...

"Ari...how would you feel, if your entire purpose for existing was gone? If you were relegated to nothing but fire support for land invasions?"

A frown crossed her face, "I wouldn't be happy about it, but as long as I was serving our nation I'd gladly do whatever task I was assigned!"

"Exactly, but how would your crew feel?"

Arizona opened her mouth to reply, before James held up a finger. Looking around to make sure they were alone, the Admiral leaned down to eye-level with the battleship. Missing a flush on her face, Admiral Thompson began to explain.

"You're not the newest battleship in the fleet anymore, but you're still a powerful girl Ari. Your crew and commanders...they're used to being the top dogs. Battleships are the heart of a fleet, while carriers are scouts and harassers. Sara...girls like her aren't supposed to be the heart of a taskforce, not yet. That's changing, even without me here, but the fact remains that dreadnought skippers think their ships are the heart of the navy," James sighed softly, looking at the dreadnought in front of him, "And that's why it's so hard. If I try to push too hard or too fast, all I'll do is make enemies. Powerful enemies, who could have me reassigned to a desk if I'm not careful."

"But you're trying to help," Ari protested, a stubborn look crossing her face, the girl biting her lip slightly, "I can't believe..."

In any other situation, the protectiveness in the girl's voice might have gotten a smile out of James, right now it just made him place his hands on her shoulders, "Ari, you don't have the same mindset. And I don't blame them for how they feel, either. Carriers are...well, we're untested until Taranto. And even then, it's the Italians who get hit...even now, they're the butt of a lot of jokes. At least I think they are..."

The way the Admiral's voice trailed off uncertainly got a giggle out of Arizona, and made him smile despite himself.

"Anyway, my point is, right now the battleship skippers have no reason to believe that their ships aren't the top dogs still. Our exercises have shown the strength of carriers, but it isn't enough. All we can do, all I can do, is prepare as best I can anyway. Even if it isn't easy, even if it takes a long time and a lot of work. I'll do what I can, so that girls like you don't have to worry."

There was nothing but utter conviction in James' voice. If nothing else, the meeting...it had reinforced the need to focus. Between it and his earlier talk with Ari, the man knew one thing. He couldn't let himself be distracted. These girls...all of them were counting on him. Seeing the difficulties inherent in changing a navy from within, without pushing too hard or too fast? It might have been overwhelming, were it not for that. But looking down on Ari, on her smiling face? It drove home to Admiral Thompson, that he needed to do everything he could to protect that smile.

Protect the girl, and all the others he could.

Because, when war came, some of these girls were going to die. He knew that, however much he didn't like thinking about it. But...even so, James wasn't going to give up. Yes, it was war- the greatest war in history, until the Abyssals arrived. But that did not mean he shouldn't do his best to protect as many of these girls as he could. Sara, Utah, Ari...he wasn't going to let these girls die, not without doing his damnedest to save them.

"Thank you," Ari herself whispered, leaning even more against the Admiral's side, "Thank you, Admiral. Do you have to...?"

"Go back to Sara? Not yet, I was hoping to talk to Admiral Richardson alone first."

"Ah...can we...?"

James smiled, merely shifting slightly so that Ari could be more comfortable. There were worse ways to spend his time. And...well, and he had the feeling it wouldn't be long before moments like this were just a fond memory.

Far from Arizona, USS Utah leaned against her aging barbette once again. The battleship-turned-target ship was resting, all the energy she had been expending exhausting her. She knew she was old, by warship standards. Her old hull was showing the strain of years, and her relative lack of priority for repairs was telling. Utah had never thought to complain about that before, but now? Now that she had a reason to be moving constantly, it worried her. She couldn't let herself all apart, until she was sure her surrogate daughters were okay. And when merely chasing her Captain around, trying to get the man to hear her instead of thinking he was being haunted, was enough to tire her out this much?

Utah couldn't help but sigh, brushing grey hair from her face. There was nothing for it though, was there? She was getting better and better at making her presence known, but she couldn't talk to her Captain yet. She wasn't going to give up by any means, but the battleship needed to rest. Utah knew she was pushing herself too hard, and a little break could hardly hurt anything, right?

"I'll just rest here..." Utah muttered, her eyes slowly sliding shut, "For a few minutes..."

Soon enough, the battleship would find herself asleep. But she wouldn't find the rest she had been hoping for.

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

"West Virginia is burning!"

"Who's attacking us?!"

"Meatballs on the wings! It's the Japs!"

"What?! That isn't..."

Utah's eyes snapped open, her protesting body forced upright. The aging battleship jumped to her feet, frantically scanning the horizon. Her ears were ringing with the panicked radio traffic, as she looked out at the harbor. At the burning harbor, smoke rising into the air from both Ford Island and...and...

"No...no no no..."

And from her daughters. Despite being moored on the opposite side of Ford Island from Battleship Row, Utah could see. She could see better than any of her crew, as the other girls burned. West Virginia...thick black smoke poured from the girl, her hull alight with angry red flames. The smoke did nothing to hide the source of these flames, pure white aircraft flitting across the sky. That coloration did not lend them an angelic appearance however. No, it only served to contrast against the dark black bombs and torpedoes some carried, and the red circles all were marked with. The Rising Sun of Japan, the enemy that Admiral Thompson had warned her about.

She was seeing, now, that everything he had said was true.

"Oklahoma was hit! We're taking on water!"

"I...I can't feel my legs..."

The voice of Oklahoma's Captain and the girl herself merged in Utah's ears, the battleship bringing her hands to her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the voice of one of the oldest girls she considered a daughter. Banish the pain and anguish, as Oklahoma's hull began to lean to her side.

"This can't be happening," Utah got out, her voice shaking, "This can't be happening..."

But everywhere she looked, she saw nothing but flames and diving aircraft. Men ran, swam, tried to get away. But Utah could see them gunned down by the Japanese aircraft. No mercy was shown, no quarter given. Anything that moved was a target, and even things that didn't move. Ships caught fire, or took hits from torpedoes that impossibly worked in the shallow harbor.

"Bastards, fight fair!" Cali's angry voice echoed over the airwaves, as a handful of her anti-aircraft guns returned fire.

It did little good. Even in the target heavy environment they were in, only one or two Japanese aircraft began smoking. Nothing more. And Cali's anger soon turned to pain, as torpedoes slammed into her side. Utah felt tears come to her eyes, feeling like the hits had been to her, not the girl she considered a daughter. And there was nothing she could do but watch, as more and more hits slammed into her daughters.

Watch, as Tennessee took a bomb hit, shrapnel spraying over West Virginia. Watch as Oklahoma continued to roll over onto her side, her hull beneath the waterline seeing the sky. Utah couldn't turn away, even as this happened in front of her. Even as she cursed her inability to do anything but watch, her own guns silent. She wasn't a combat ship...she couldn't...

"ARI!"

Utah's head snapped around at the anguished cry from Pennsylvania, in time to see a gout of flame and debris shoot into the sky. The battleship fell to her knees, as she saw Arizona's hull lift out of the water, her bow shattered in fire. Ari settled back in the harbor, flames roaring over her hull. Her masts fell forward, the girl's bow ruined by the explosion. There hadn't even been a warning, a pained shout. Nothing. She was there one second and...

"I can't believe...Arizona..." Utah held a hand to her heart, tears flowing freely, "I was going to save you. Admiral Thompson and I were going to save all of you. It should have been me...it should have been..."

"Torpedoes in the water!"

Before Utah could finish her sentence, she was thrown to her deck, losing all feeling in her legs. The battleship cried out in pain, as her own hull began to list. However, that first cry of pain was instinctual. As her hull began to slide down, Utah felt a weak smile cross her face. Now she could no longer see her daughter's burning. And now, she could face death. It was preferable to facing her failures...she couldn't face that.
Far better to die, than live and be reminded of her failure every time she saw Ari's body.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."

Utah's eyes slid shut once again, as she felt the water of the harbor rush over her decks...

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

"Utah? Are you alright?"

"I'm worried...she sounded bad..."

"You always worry too much, Ari."

Wait...they're...

The battleship snapped up, ignoring the soreness in her body. Frantic eyes looked around, seeing nothing but clear skies and men doing their duty. No Japanese aircraft, no dead and dying sailors. No smoke, and no burning girls. And those voices...

"California? Arizona?" Utah whispered.

"You're okay!" the cheerful voice of the latter girl rang in her ears.

"You're alive?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" Cali's voice sounded more confused than anything.

Utah didn't respond at first, sliding back against her barbette. They were alive, and Pearl wasn't burning. It had been a dream then, a horrible, horrible nightmare. But still, nothing more than a dream. Looking down on her shaking hands, Utah clenched them to calm herself. It wasn't easy. That had been so...so real. She could still see Ari's shattered hull in her mind, if the battleship shut her eyes. She doubted it would leave her anytime soon. Was this what Admiral Thompson felt like all the time? A man who had grown up, seeing Ari and her own shattered hulls, rusting away in the harbor?

If so, Utah decided then and there she never wanted to see it again.

She had already been determined to do her best. That dream...that dream had her mind reeling, and she couldn't put it out of her mind. She wished she could, but it wasn't that simple. Utah was going to be haunted by that dream, that vision, that...whatever it was. It didn't matter in the end. What did matter, was that she couldn't let that come to pass. Seeing that...

I can't see that again. I would sooner die than see that again.

"I'm...fine," Utah finally replied, "Sorry, just a bad dream."

"Oh."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Smiling softly at the worried voice of her red-haired daughter, Utah just shook herself, "Yes, I'm perfectly okay Arizona."

Climbing to her feet, Utah ignored the stiff feeling in her bones. She had to find her Captain, and redouble her efforts to contact him. If the battleship could just break whatever barrier remained, then they all could talk to their Captains and Admirals. And figure out a way to save them all, from that horrible fate.

Skywalker_T-65 · Jan 23, 2016

Chapter Seven: Work, Work and More Work

"What are you doing, Admiral?"

"Writing."

"Writing more of your memories?"

"Not this time, Sara."

James couldn't help a smile crossing his face, at the confused tilt of Saratoga's head. Her blue hair fell in front of green eyes, as the girl clearly questioned what he was doing without actually saying anything. Not that he could blame her. He rarely wrote anything down that wasn't something he needed to remember. Memories of the war were getting foggier and foggier the longer he was in the past, with no access to materials that could refresh him. Considering the events those materials referenced had yet to even happen, and may not happen, after all. It hardly helped that, with new memories added on, he was trying to keep tactics in his head more than events now.

France falling on a different day had done one thing for him, in the end. It had shown the Admiral that just being in the past was changing things.
He couldn't rely on his list of dates, as anything more than an overall indicator. About the only thing he was confident in happening the same day, was Pearl Harbor itself. If only because the attack had occurred when it had, with good reason. Stuff like Barbarossa? While outside of his influence anyway, he couldn't assume it would happen the same day or go the same way. Say, Greece lasted longer. Then Germany would take even longer to prepare. The same logic would work for Coral Sea or Midway.

It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that he was focusing more on tactics.

Of course, that's not what I'm doing now though.

"What are you writing then, sir?"

The Admiral held up the paper, not concerned at all with his closest friend reading it, "Letter home. I had to look through old papers and such, but I found my family. Granted, dear old Granddad is still a kid these days. My own father won't be born for a good thirty years."

"Your family?" Sara blinked slowly as she spoke up, "Are you sure?"

"I would think I know my own family, Sara." James snorted softly, "But yeah, I understand your question there. It's hard to believe it's still my family. I got tossed into the past, and I know for a fact there was no James Thompson in the 1940s, at least not in my family. Apparently I'm Great-Granddad's brother now."

The carrier frowned slightly, "And that's why you're writing?"

"Exactly. I may be focused on work, but I do need to keep up with the family, or things will look odd. It's actually interesting getting to know him, I barely remember Granddad."

And wasn't that an understatement. James' great-grandfather had died when he was still young, so his memories of the man were iffy at best. Luckily he had at least some idea of his personality from old letters and his grandfather's stories. But it wasn't a whole lot to work off of. Just enough to play off knowing the man, at least, enough to play off in letters. If James had to meet Hank Thompson in person? He wouldn't have the slightest clue how to act.

Hence, the letters. Keep up correspondence with his 'brother' and learn how to act when the two did have to meet in person. At least he didn't have to do the same with old high school friends, or what have you. Just like in the future, he had drifted apart from friends he had at that time period. Fellow officers might be more of a problem, but, nothing to be done there. If he came across a friend, he could only hope that whatever stuck him in the past had stuck him in the past with his personality intact.

Otherwise...well, cross that bridge when it came and all that.

"I'm sure you enjoy getting to know him too." Sara's smile was soft as ever.

"That too. It's a bit nice honestly, getting to know my family from this time period. Even if they're a bit..." James trailed off, wincing at some of the letters his 'father'- Great-great Granddad -had sent.

"Admiral?" Sara was clearly confused by that.

James just sighed, "I knew it was going to happen, but damn if dear old 'dad' is not sexist. He's talking all about how I need to get a 'good girl to take care of my home' and nonsense like that. His letters read like I need a trophy wife or something."

The carrier tilted her head again, "But don't you...?"

"Need a woman to take care of my home? Of course not," James couldn't help but look aghast at the very suggestion of that. "I mean, I wasn't even married in the future. Never time for that, and I sure as hell don't have time now."

Hardly helps that the only women I was around to any extent were either subordinates or the ship girls. I don't know how Goto dealt with Kongou.

"Oh." Sara smiled slightly, turning her head to look out the porthole. And away from him, for some reason.

For his part, James just returned to working on his letter, aware that he needed to get it done before the exercises he had planned for the next day. It had taken more time than he would have otherwise liked- it was now September after all -to push through the exercise. But, with a lot of cajoling and work with Admiral Richardson, James had what he needed. An exercise to test cooperation between three carriers, in this case Sara, Lex and Yorktown. At least, that was what it was to the Navy. To Admiral Thompson, it was much more.

This was his chance to do two very important things. One, to demonstrate carrier tactics and hopefully avoid the issues that plagued American carriers in the early war years. And two, a chance to get the torpedo problem fixed. He could still remember complaints from submarine girls in the early days of the American ship girl program. So many complaints about the 'shitty Mark 14' that he thought he'd never hear the end of it.
Research on that had turned up the issues in question. From the magnetic detonator, to circular runs, and everything in between. That entire family of torps had been a problem and he didn't like thinking how many men and ships might have died because of it.

"Admiral?"

"Hmm?"

Putting finishing touches on his letter, James turned back to Sara. The carrier had a serious look on her face, as she looked him in the eyes.

"Do you love one of us?"

Wait...what?

"Sara..." James sputtered, "Where the hell did that come from?"

"You never married, and you don't have any interest in finding a wife now. Does that mean you can't because of..." Here, the girl pointed at her hull.

All that the Admiral could do was turn away, knowing his face had gone red, "I'm not having this conversation. I thought I got enough of that from York."

"So you have talked about this before?"

"Not talking about it."

Ignoring the soft laughter from the carrier, James sighed and got back to his bunk. Now that the letter was finished, he could afford to rest before moving towards the next task in his never ending work. He could only hope his work payed off, this time.

In that regard, one of his tasks already had worked. USS Arizona was looking at her crew, as they drilled to prepare for an air attack. She had no idea what Admiral Thompson had told her Admiral. But he had put more work into ensuring her crew could use her sadly limited anti-aircraft weaponry properly. It was quite interesting to watch actually. Ari had only really seen her main battery and the sponson guns put to use before. Anti-aircraft training and weaponry? She had little experience with that, just as her crew did. It was a new experience all around.

Not that she was going to complain, of course. Not only was this an interesting experience, it was an important one. Even if she didn't have much in the way of anti-air guns aboard at the moment, the training could help if she got a refit to add more. And it would certainly help a lot, come December 7th. Ari trusted Admiral Thompson's word implicitly. There was no doubt that he knew what he was talking about.

"I hope he can work around my Admiral." Ari mused, as she watched her crew rotate a gun mount. "But I'm sure he can!"

"I would hope so."

"Utah?"

Looking around, Ari smiled at the sight of the older girl sliding into harbor. Utah bore the marks of training, but she carried them well. The proud old dreadnought may not have been a fighter anymore, but she still had the grace of her lineage.

"Yes. My boilers require maintenance, or I would be out helping in his new training program." There was a hint of pain in Utah's voice.

Ari couldn't help but wince in sympathy, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Arizona. Just...old and tired."

More tired than she might let on, if what Ari heard in her older cousin's voice was real. Boiler problems translated to heart problems, in a ship spirit. Utah had to be hurting if her crew needed to bring her back into harbor to be maintained. And there was nothing she could do to help the older girl but be moral support either.

Times like this, I wish I could leave my hull. Admiral Thompson's stories about us in his time...

The battleship smiled at the memory of those talks, those stories. Hearing about being able to sail on the waves in her human body? It was so nice to imagine! But, Ari couldn't do that for now. She was stuck aboard her hull, and could only watch as Utah pulled into her berth.

"Well, let me know if you need anything!" Ari smiled at the other ship, well aware Utah couldn't see her.

"I will. Thank you." There was genuine appreciation in Utah's voice, before the older girl probably went to sleep to rest while she was repaired.

Turning away from Utah, Arizona instead looked back to her crew.

"Hey, Carl?" One of the gunners was saying as he leaned against a gun. "Why're we doin this again?"

"Cap'n says we need to be ready for air attack."

"Why though? Ain't that what those flyboys are for?"

"'Course, but they can't cover us all the time."

One of the other men snorted, "I'd kill for a posting on one of those carriers. You seen how big Sister Sara is? Probably a lot less cramped than being stuck on this old wagon."

"Jeez man, don't say that shit." The first gunner looked around warily. "What if Cap hears ya? Not to mention, haven't you heard those stories about Utah?"

"What, that she's haunted?"

"Exactly! Freaky stuff is happenin on that ship, and it's not just Utah! We're like, the only ship in the fleet it isn't happening on."

Ari winced at that, her ever present smile fading slightly. She was so focused on helping Admiral Thompson personally, that she had yet to do any work on talking with her own crew. It was...just so nice talking with the Admiral. She loved spending time with him. Working with him! And it had left her not spending any effort on her own crew. Not like Utah, who claimed she was close to a breakthrough. Or Cali, who seemed to enjoy messing with her crew more than actually working with them. And then there was Ari...who just didn't do anything.

She probably should change that.

"Utah?"

"Hmm?" the tired old battleship hummed.

"How...how do you talk to your crew?"

"Ah. I was wondering when you would want to try that, Arizona." There was a hint of amusement in Utah's voice now. "I would suggest you try talking with your Captain first. Or your Admiral. It is more likely to work than a random member of your crew."

"So I just...go up to him?"

"That is what I have done, yes. I have yet to manage an actual conversation however."

Ari bit her lip, worriedly clenching at her skirt, "What about talking to my whole crew?"

Utah was silent, before she hummed in thought again, "Intercom? We are able to use our radios, so logically..."

"Oh! I can try that!"

"I would suggest you try talking with your officers first, Arizona. That is why I have yet to try using my intercom myself."

The gentle chastising in Utah's tone was almost...motherly. Ari blushed slightly at that, as she recognized the logic in that request. She might do a bit more than scare her crew senseless, if they had a disembodied woman speaking through her speakers. Probably better to talk with her Captain first in that regard. She just wanted to help though!

But, pushing too hard or too fast...

'If I try to push too hard or too fast, all I'll do is make enemies.'

That was what Admiral Thompson had told her, the first time they had really talked about his plans. Maybe she lacked the 'making enemies' part of his statement, but she had taken his words to heart. Pushing too fast was going to cause problems if she...if they...weren't careful, wasn't it? Utah was right, just like the Admiral was right. Ari wanted to help, but she didn't want to make things worse for those she was trying to help. Especially for Admiral Thompson, who had enough to work on as it was. She would hate if she hurt him, by pushing too fast.

Especially since it may come back on him, somehow, if she talked with her crew like that.

"I want to help, but I don't want to mess up," Ari smiled softly, as she shook her head, "Right. Time to try talking with my Captain and Admiral!"
With that plan in mind, the battleship spun on her heel. She left her sailors behind, moving into her superstructure. She knew from long years of life, exactly where her Captain or Admiral were likely to be. So she just had to find them, and do her best! Because USS Arizona was not going to do anything but her best. It was the least she could do, to thank the man who had shown her what it was like to talk with people.

She could never repay Admiral Thompson for that, but every little thing helped.

And thus, do I update two stories (well, Indy was an omake to be fair) at once.

Now to crash because it is entirely too late here.

Skywalker_T-65 · Jan 28, 2016

This chapter was the first time I really experimented here. Different situation, first part had no kamusu or Thompson...different in general, really. Hopefully it worked out well.

Especially since there was so much improvisation there.

Chapter Eight: Exercise

"No sign of Yorktown's boys."

"Roger."

"Lady Lex's bombers are where they should be."

"Understood. Vector a pair of birds to cover them."

"Roger that!"

Lieutenant Commander John Thach cracked his neck, shifting slightly in the tiny cockpit of his Brewster F2A Buffalo. The stubby little fighter roared along at a steady 161 miles-per-hour, not a cloud to mar his vision. Off his port wing was another Brewster bird, piloted by his promising young wingman. Butch O'Hare waved a hand, as the pair of fighters flew along. Off his starboard wing, two more of the little fighters flew. Together, they were Red Flight of VF-3, off Sister Sara. The formation was a new one, at least in United States Navy service.

As was the fact that Thach had sent Blue Flight's first wing pair down to cover the lumbering TBD's flying closer to the crystal blue waters below. Close escort of the bombers in this way was a new tactic, put into use on Sara first by Admiral Thompson. Thach could respect the man's ingenuity in that regard, if nothing else. This formation was untested as of yet, but it made some sense.

Those birds need escorts.

Innovative when designed or not, the TBD was painfully slow compared to Thach's fighter. God only knew what the Japs were using these days, probably those tiny little fixed-gear birds ONI swore were their mainline fighters. Even those things could probably catch the lumbering torpedo birds though.

"Keep an eye out for Yorktown's boys." Thach keyed his new radio once more, his own eyes scanning the horizon. "Don't want to be caught by them, now do we?"

"No sir!"

Thach smirked at that, "Good."

The rivalry between the carriers was almost as legendary as that between the armed services. Sara and Yorktown had a more personal rivalry, since Thach's boys had 'damaged' her earlier that year during the Fleet Problem. Yorktown was going to be gunning for payback after that.

"Light on the horizon."

Butch's voice echoed in Thach's cockpit, making the man spin his head around, sharp eyes scanning for what his wingman had seen. And indeed, there was the glint of glass rapidly approaching.

West, angle 20. Altitude...twenty-thousand. Those aren't Lex's birds.

"Break!" Thach snapped into his radio, as the glints of light rapidly formed into the light blue form of Brewster fighters.

Those birds were painted with the insignia of Yorktown's fighter squadrons. Thach couldn't tell which one from this angle, but he knew they weren't his own VF-3 or VF-2 off Lady Lex. And they only had that special paint to mark who was who in the exercise and avoid friendly fire.

That thought went through his head and left as quickly as it came however. Thach and Butch broke to port, while his wing-pair broke to starboard. Yorktown's birds shot between VF-3's fighters, entering into a turn of their own to come up behind the Lieutenant Commander's planes. Classic tactics, but that didn't mean it wouldn't work. In planes that were equal to each other, it would come down to the individual skill of the pilots on who would win this bout. That and a whole lotta luck.

Or...

Weave. Time to see if the Admiral is right about this.

Thach waved a hand at Butch, getting a nod from his wingman in return. Time to put this to the test.

Thompson's Weave, as Thach had coined it- with a bit of grumbling that he hadn't come up with the tactic -was simple in practice. Thach allowed himself to slow down, presenting a target that Yorktown's boys couldn't pass up. In doing so, he focused their attention on him instead of Butch.

"Come on, take the bait..."

Two of the 'enemy' fighters did take the bait, the other pair of Buffaloes going after Red Flights second wing-pair. Thach smirked at that, as he turned into Butch's flight path, his wingman doing the same. Practice rounds flew past his cockpit, narrowly missing the stubby little fighter. The Lieutenant Commander's fighter continued it's turn, the Yorktown boys following the movement...

Right into Butch's sight. Four 50-cal guns barked from the Brewster bird, the practice rounds slamming into one of the Yorktown fighters. That plane broke off, 'killed' by the shots. His wingman spun into a panicked dive, clearly not expecting the maneuver. Thach didn't whoop in exhilaration like he would have in his younger days, merely smirking as he sent another hand gesture at his wingman. Butch returned the gesture, the two pilots diving down after their counterpart from Yorktown. Wind flew by the Buffalo, as the fighter picked up more and more speed.

Yorktown's pilot, realizing he was being pursued, pulled out of his own dive, turning sharply to port. Thach pulled against his own controls, straining against the pressure caused by the dive. But his fighter was an agile little bird, and responded to the Lieutenant Commander's orders.

Got you.

Pulling out of his turn, Thach had the Yorktown boy dead to rights. He focused, took a breath, and depressed the firing control. The sharp report of his fifty-cals roared to life, the practice rounds stitching the other Brewster. The Yorktown pilot broke off, sending a friendly wave at Thach as the pilot formed back up with Butch. Only one of Red Flight's second pair returned however, though they had dealt with their own counterparts.

"Good job." Thach nodded at his fellow pilots. "Now, let's find Yorktown."

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

"Smoke at ten o'clock!"

"Looks like a Carrier!"

Thach turned in the indicated direction, a smirk crossing his face. Far below, closer to where the bulky TBDs flew, was a formation of warships. A pair of cruisers, several destroyers, and at the center...USS Yorktown. Her distinctive silhouette, nothing like Lex and Sara, or for that matter Ranger, was a sight for sore eyes. Thach's eyes scanned away from her however, looking for any sign of the carrier's Combat Air Patrol. If Yorktown's flight ops were smart at all...there! The Lieutenant Commander's eyes locked on to a group of four Brewsters, already angling to hit the torpedo bombers. Unluckily for them...

Well, they exposed themselves too soon.

"Keep them off the bombers." Thach calmly spoke into his radio, as he spun his Brewster into a dive towards the Yorktown CAP.

With the sun behind him and Blue Flight, Thach had the advantage. If the Yorktown boys even had the caution to look up, they would be blinded by the sun in their eyes. Whereas Sara's fliers had the sunlight reflecting off their targets, marking them out perfectly against the ocean beneath them. Thach zeroed in on the lead pilot in that four-man formation, once more letting his guns rip. The moment the rattle of the weapons came to life, the other pilots broke their formation, rapidly maneuvering to avoid incoming fire.

The one Thach had targeted broke off towards his carrier however, 'killed' by the surprise attack.

One down.

Even as that pilot left the battle, Thach was forced to fling his Brewster to the side, as one of the Yorktown birds came up on him. The movement wasn't quite quick enough, as practice rounds stitched up his wing. Grimacing, Thach finished his turn, moving out of the battle area. The Brewster was maneuverable for sure, but it's armor wasn't worth a damn. Those rounds would have blown his wing off, were they live. Still...he had done his job though.

"Beginning final approach now."

For both the TBDs and a group of SBD's escorted by Green Flight had arrived on target. Yorktown began to turn hard to starboard, attempting to throw off the aim of the attackers. It was too little, too late. The SBD's dove down on the carrier, fat practice bombs falling from their fuselages. Two of the bombs splashed in the water off the carrier's bow, but two also hit dead center of her flight deck. And even as the dive bombers had their moment to shine, the lumbering TBDs released their own weapons, peeling off to avoid vengeful Brewsters.

Thach nodded in approval at the textbook perfect drop, expecting the torpedoes to hit Yorktown squarely in the flank, the carrier unable to change her path quickly enough to matter. Instead...

"What the hell...?"

The torpedoes didn't work properly at all. Two of them sank without their motors firing. Three ran in a different direction than they had been dropped, and the one that actually did go to Yorktown?

Well, it hit squarely into the carrier's side, instead of running beneath her keel as it was supposed to. The torpedo crumpled, and promptly sank to never be found again.

"Negative hits. I repeat, negative hits."

Thach heard his torpedo bomber counterpart speak those words, but his attention was on Yorktown. The bomb hits rendered her 'inoperable' until repairs could be made, but it should have been a textbook 'kill' shot. With that many fish in the water? It was inconceivable that all of them could fail like that. Thach knew one thing. His friend in the TBD was going to raise hell when he got back to Lady Lex. And Thach was going to do the same thing when he returned to Sara.

They couldn't go into combat with torpedoes that didn't work!

Receiving the report of the attack, James sighed softly. He had gone into this, full-well knowing what would happen. Knowing and experiencing were, as ever, two entirely different things however. He had known that the Mark 13- and by extension, 14 and 15 -were one of the greatest failures in American military history. So many duds, so many failed attacks...all tied to that torpedo family. However, knowing it hardly prepared him for seeing it in action. A tenth of the torpedoes launched by Lex and Sara's planes worked. That was it. The other nine-tenths failed outright in different ways.

It was a painful lesson all around, to say the least.

The only real positive was that Yorktown had been unable to get a single fish in the water. The joint CAP of Lex and Sara worked together marvelously, scything through the unescorted bombers in a repeat of Midway that had James wincing. He'd gotten odd looks from that, but it didn't change his reaction. The Devastator with the Mark 13...useless, and a death trap without heavy escort. And Buffaloes were not Zeroes. But then, this was the purpose of the exercise.

To show how tactics could help immensely, and how the torpedoes needed fixing ASAP.

"I can't believe they all failed..." Sara whispered from the Admiral's side, having been listening to the reports from her planes. And her sister's, for that matter.

"I can." James whispered back, careful to go unheard as ever.

"I never really doubted you Admiral." The carrier frowned lightly. "But seeing it..."

Admiral Thompson sighed softly, "Yeah, I know."

"Sir?"

Turning away from Sara, James looked at one of his crew. The man was gesturing towards the wireless, making the Admiral sigh softly again. Time to get a message to Richardson then. Needed to be done though. James could pull some strings on his own, but he was limited by his position. Richardson? Well, as CinCUS- Commander in Chief, United States Fleet -that man had a lot more pull. With the evidence of dangerous flaws?

Well, one could hope he could pull the strings properly.

"Are you sure this will work Admiral?" Sara asked, not really expecting an answer considering the people around.

James shrugged, not vocally replying.

"Thought so..."

Turning his head ever so slightly, the Admiral sent a reassuring smile at the blue-haired woman. Trying to convey what he meant, without actually saying anything.

I wish we could guarantee this Sara. But we will do everything we can, and hope for the best.

Sara smiled at that herself, "Right, we always do our best don't we?"

The Admiral shrugged again, but didn't drop his smile as he turned back to getting his message put together.

'The exercise has discovered two important facts, that cannot wait until my return to report.'

Sighing, James continued to type out the message.

'First, the tactics I suggested worked flawlessly. Neither USS Lexington nor USS Saratoga took any hits. By contrast, USS Yorktown sustained two hits from dive bombers. However, there should have been more impacts from my torpedo squadrons. The Mk.13 did not work as it should, a mere tenth of them functioning properly. I believe they- and likely the Mk.14 and Mk.15 as well -require more testing to identify the problem.'

Handing off the message to his communications officer, James got to his feet and left the bridge to Sara's Captain. The Admiral was going to go down to the flight deck, and wait for his pilots to return. Was it more hands on than the average Admiral? Sure. Did James care? Not one bit. He wanted to know these men, and figure out how they felt about both the tactics and the torpedo issues. When he returned to Pearl, he wanted reports from the men using the tactics and weapons. Admiral Richardson was going to need everything he could get, to push through what was needed.

Of course, there was also the fact that leaving the crowded bridge allowed him to talk to Sara again. That too.

"All we can do now is hope Sara." James turned to the carrier, as they walked through her halls. "Admiral Richardson is a good man. He'll do what he can, to fix things."

"But will it be enough?" Green eyes looked out from the curtain of blue hair, Sara clearly worried. "Yorktown...she...all those pilots lost."

James could do nothing but put a hand on Sara's shoulder, "I know. Trust me...I know. Midway was the same, in my past. Except there, six out of 41 made it back to the carriers."

Saratoga winced, holding a hand to her heart, "So many..."

To a carrier, steel hull or ship girl, losing that many planes would hurt. James knew that from his experience during the Abyssal War. It was why he kept a hand on Sara's shoulder as long as possible, providing silent support for the shaken girl. It was only when they reached the flight deck, that he removed that hand.

I can only hope we do better this time. It is out of my hands now though...Admiral Richardson will have to do what he can.

Changing Destiny (Kancolle)

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Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

Skywalker_T-65

Writer with too many ideas.

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