Changing Destiny (Kancolle)

[Skywalker_T-65]

Omake: New Years in the Atlantic
​

For the first time in what seemed a lifetime, there was a break in the constant war. A break from convoys and from supporting the North African front. A chance for the sole fleet carrier of the USN to rest and relax for a bit. It was just a shame she was alone and none of her cousins were around to enjoy the rest with her. All of them, older and younger, were in the Pacific. She was the only one left behind to serve in the Atlantic. And while she understood the necessity of that, it didn't make it any easier to be alone like this. She dearly wanted to be with them, helping, like she had been designed to do.

That same design relegated her to secondary duty like this. She just wasn't fit for fighting against Japan. Or even serving in the Pacific in general. She accepted that fact and that she was doing good work in the Atlantic, but it still hurt sometimes.

It is what it is, I suppose. At least the Captain got me some nice wine!

Standing on her deck, heedless of the bitter North Atlantic night cold, USS Ranger sipped at a glass of wine. Her brown hair blew behind her in the breeze, as her dress shifted with it. "Ahh, this is the good stuff. Where'd you find it, sir?"

Her Captain sat on a chair he had found somewhere and sent a smug look her way, "The British didn't just get their men out of France when they up and left, you know. Let's just say one of those Royal Navy captains owed me after losing a bet."

"Ha!" Ranger giggled at the image, as she sipped at her wine. Ahhh, yeah, that was good wine.

Where had she picked up the taste for the finer things in life? Who knew! She didn't, and she doubted any of the other ships knew themselves. They all had their quirks after all. Plus, she was fairly certain she couldn't actually get drunk. Probably.

"So, you ready to head back down to the Med?" Her captain sipped at his own glass, though he very much could get drunk and was moderating himself.

That managed to elicit a groan. Ranger had kind of gotten used to the cool waters of the North Atlantic. It felt nice considering her exhaust was never the greatest in the world and the cool waters felt good on her hull. The Mediterranean was beautiful, but it was also warm and even hot at times. Especially around North Africa. And that was where she had spent a good chunk of the year and she wasn't eager to go back.

Even if it did still get a giggle when she thought about the Germans screaming to the heavens that they had 'sunk' her.

"I like it up here," Ranger didn't pout, but she did look down at her glass with a sour expression.

Her captain only chuckled softly at that. "Doubt the crew shares the feeling. Well, a new year means new operations. And I doubt any of those fancy new flattops is taking our place."

"They'll all go to the Pacific." Ranger instantly answered, thinking about the new Essex sisters. Yeah, they'd be in the Pacific. She wasn't fit for that but they most assuredly were.

It was her fate to stay in the Atlantic, as she looked out at the smooth waters around her. For once, there wasn't even the slightest hint of a storm. It was nice in a way, especially since her hull didn't much enjoy stormy weather.

"That they would. So, before we head back to warmer waters, want to enjoy this wind one more time?" The man beside her climbed to his feet and walked to one of her gun galleries.

Ranger followed along, easily shifting with what little movement her hull was making at that moment. Her blue dress blew in the light breeze, while her stockings kept her legs nice and toasty. She also didn't know why her clothes were what they were...but if it worked, it worked?

I like how I look, anyway. And so do the crew, hehehe!

Coming up beside her captain, Ranger looked out at the cold waters and her escorts, chugging along beside her. The man she had followed looked at his wrist, before raising his glass. "To a new year. Hopefully a better one for us all."

"I'll drink to that!" Ranger put her own wine up, before taking a good, hearty drink of it. She smiled as the cool liquid flowed down her throat, the sweet tang just the best. Nothing like it. "And to the end of the war. I want to trade stories with Sister Sara again!~"

Even in the Atlantic, word had come around about Sara's crew and their betting pool. Ranger giggled when she thought about it, every time. Sara was older than her, but it didn't stop her from getting amusement imagining her dancing around things like a schoolgirl. Or what Ranger thought a schoolgirl would act like, anyway. Not that she knew!

"Amen." Her captain finished his own, smaller, glass off and tugged his cap down. He sent one last look out at the starry sky and sighed softly. "I think we're all hoping for that, Ranger."

With that, he walked back into her hull. Ranger remained on her deck and galleries, though. Sipping her wine thoughtfully as her hull steamed along through the calm waters of the North Atlantic.

---

AN: Since it's New Years, have a short little snip. This isn't spoiling anything happening in the fic, by the by. Consider this very very very loosely canon, and more likely noncanon. Since we're obviously not spoiling how the Pacific War is going in a little New Years omake

Also, Ranger a cute. But also a drunk. So there's that.

Next post will be the actual update, before anyone grabs the pitchforks >.>

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Chapter 67
Battle of the Solomon Sea, I
​

It seemed a morning like any other. Patrols were prepared, men trained and went about their usual duties, and the ships sailed in their normal formations. That fact was misleading. For when Admiral Thompson arrived on the bridge of Saratoga, it was to barely controlled chaos. Her bridge crew were tense at their stations and the carrier, herself, was staring into the distance with the characteristic dull eyes of a ship spirit focused on radio traffic. The Admiral, still wiping sleep from his eyes and cursing the weaker coffee he subsisted on, frowned at that. As well as at the way Thach was arguing with Captain Ramsey in hushed tones. The pilot was waving his hands towards the flight deck and quite animatedly trying to make his point.

"---if those plans are correct, we can't get caught with our pants around our ankles!" Thach ground out, as Ramsey shook his head at the man.

"I'm not inclined to trust plans we found lying around that may, or may not, be accurate." Ramsey sighed heavily and shook his head once more. "Not to mention we're relying on a translation from a Marine who might not even speak the language properly. Do you really believe the Japanese are right around the corner, stalking us?"

That prompted Thompson to sigh on his own end. Still not willing to believe they'll track us before hitting us. Or that we need to be ready at all times. What's that about plans, though?

"Morning, men," Thompson walked up to the arguing pair, instantly stopping it. If only because Thach immediately turned to him. Thompson raised an eyebrow at that, "I have the sinking suspicion I missed something while I was sleeping. That no one thought to wake me for."

Someone on the bridge winced. Thompson didn't see who it was and didn't bother looking.

Thach had all his attention, as he rustled in his pockets and pulled out a dispatch form, "This message, sir. Straight from the Aussies on Guadalcanal."

"Oh?" Taking the message, Thompson unfurled it and looked over the crumpled paper. With every word he read, his heart sank deeper into his boots. Until, in the end, he crumpled the paper in his own hands.

Oh, those clever bastards.

I should have expected this. They've been entirely too passive for too long. It's why I've had everyone training so much. Setting the paper down on his chair, and wondering when he had reached it, the Admiral reached up to rub at his brow. "Captain, I don't much care who translated this or anything like that. They're taking it seriously enough to send this out here and I'm not going to ignore it."

While Ramsey nodded, reluctantly, Thompson turned to Thach again, "Jimmy, get a CAP up now. The Japanese like attacking as early as they can and we're not getting caught flat-footed. Coordinate with Lex and Wasp on this."

"Sir!" Thach snapped off a salute, regulations be damned, and smirked slightly. Before letting that fall away as he continued, "Should we send out scouts too?"

Thompson looked out at the first Dauntless lifting off from Saratoga's deck for the morning patrol and frowned. He had no idea where the Japanese would be. Not from intelligence, not from his own memories, not from future knowledge. Predicting where they would be was pointless. All he could do was flail around in the dark. And...

This was an era when carrier warfare was, ultimately, decided by who found who first. By the one to get the first strike in. And the Japanese seemed to have at least a general idea where his own fleet was. Hmm. It was times like this that he truly wished he had more experience in proper carrier operations. Though, he supposed, Spruance had hardly had much in the way of practical experience at Midway and that had gone well. Lucky. But well. Could he rely on that here?

No. He already knew that answer.

"Get some Dauntless' out there," Thompson ordered Thach, before sending a glance at Sara and sighing. Still busy. He turned to another officer and continued, "And get on the horn to Guadalcanal. I want as many of their fighters as we can get over here. The best defense is fighters, I don't want to rely on our guns."

As the other officer nodded and set about doing just that, Thach tapped his chin, "That sure they'll be angling for us and not the Aussies, sir?"

The Admiral shrugged. Not dismissively, but making his own feelings clear, "Guadalcanal is already lost to them. They could hit it, but it wouldn't stop us. Not even slow us down." He waved at the fleet, instead, "Their best bet to slow us down is to hit the fleet. They still have more carriers than we do, if they haven't split them up. And if I were a betting man, I would say they kept them together."

He also had the benefit of foreknowledge. Keeping the carriers together to hit an American fleet with superior numbers was exactly what Yamamoto would do. If Thompson was surprised by anything, it was only the lack of some spoiling attack as a distraction. Like lighter forces hitting Wake or something to draw attention away. That the Japanese had their own land-based forces- that one airbase aside, now -to route against his fleet was the main reason he was inclined to believe he was the main target, not Halsey.

"Understood," Thach gave a sharp nod. He was a smart cookie, as it were, and wouldn't question things. "I'll get to that, then. Any other orders you got in mind, sir?"

Thompson waved him off and Thach left with another nod. Just in time, too, as Saratoga shook herself and turned away from the window. Her vibrant green eyes locked onto Thompson, as a wide smile crossed her lips, "Ja---Admiral!"

In any other situation, Thompson might have chuckled at her slip up. Not now. He simply sat in his chair with a heavy sigh as Sara walked over to him, with Ramsey joining her. "This is not what I expected to wake up to." He looked at Sara's Captain with a dull stare, "Captain, I don't tell you how to run the ship, but please wake me up for something like that. Even if you think it's nothing."

Ramsey was a good captain, all told. In another life, he captained Sara well. He just wasn't adapting well to the new paradigm of ship spirits or how Thompson ran the ship. It wasn't his fault and he was doing the best with a bad hand. It just wasn't a case where everyone could be like Halsey or Richardson and adapt to things easily. Even Bull messed up sometimes, from Thompson's understanding. No point in worrying about it.

For his part, Ramsey simply sighed and nodded along. There was a tiredness to his face but no bitterness or anything resembling frustration. He was just a tired man thrust into a situation he didn't really prepare for. Better men had performed worse than him in such situations.

"Noted, Admiral," the captain looked properly chastised at least. He continued in the same dull tone of voice, saying, "Do you want me to coordinate with the other captains on this?"

Before responding, Thompson looked out the bridge windows once more. He could see the distant form of Lexington, a smudge on the horizon really. He knew that Wasp was somewhere close by, as well. The same rising sun casting shadows on Sara's deck from her stack would be doing the same on Lex and Wasp. He trusted their captains to be ready to move on a single request from him, too. Captain Sherman and Captain Sherman- and wasn't that a coincidence and a half? -were good men. In their other lives, both had captained their ships well and done excellent work at saving as many of their crews as they could when the ships were lost.

In this life, Thompson couldn't have asked for better men to be captaining the other carriers in his little fleet. He leaned on them, and Captain Ramsey more than he cared to admit. His own inexperience in running a task force like this showed through often enough. He relied on the captains to help when he made mistakes or to give suggestions to improve on things.

Well, I can trust them to do what needs done. Hopefully they'll never have to prove themselves in the same way they did in my past. Thompson belatedly stopped tapping at the arm rest of his chair, the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks when he realized he had been doing so. Coughing into his now free hand, he looked at Ramsey again. "By all means, captain. I'd like a plan of action put together as quickly as you can. I'm sending our scouts out, but that doesn't mean we can't plan for what to do if they find something."

He frowned and lowered his hand with a contemplative expression.

"Or, for that matter, if they don't find anything at all. Contrary to popular belief, I'd vastly prefer if they don't." The relatively young admiral sent a dry look at his captain, "I'd rather we be the ones springing the trap, not the ones walking into one with one hand behind our back."

Ramsey gave a small frown at that, "I understand that admiral. Right. I'll get on the horn with Lex and Wasp then."

He set out to do just that. Thompson watched him go, before tilting his head to look at Sara instead. She had been patiently standing beside him, though the way she idly twirled a lock of blue hair around her finger spoke to her own nerves.

Thompson couldn't even blame her for that. The last time they had faced direct combat with Japanese carriers, back at Wake, he'd come entirely too close to dying. The scars still tugged at him when he moved wrong. And the only reason Sara didn't carry her own, visible, scars was because of the repairs done to her. She wasn't afraid of fighting. She was afraid of him being hurt again.

"Keep in close contact with your pilots, Sara." Thompson smiled at her, taking the hand fidgeting with her hair into his own. He gave a soft squeeze when she smiled at him and continued, "I trust you and Thach to figure out where they're hiding. We won't lose that easily, yeah?"

Sara's smile was a brittle thing, but it still widened a little there, "Of course we won't. They caught us off guard at Wake, but we learned from that. And my children are quite capable of doing what they need to."

Ah, that little quirk. Nice to see some things don't change.

"Duly noted, though don't let Thach hear you call him that." Thompson chuckled along with Sara's soft giggles.

For that moment, and that moment alone, they could pretend they weren't about to sail into a battle they might well not come out of. Sara knew Thompson's innermost worries and concerns. She knew his lessons of a war from a different past. As such, both the carrier and the time traveler knew that if the Japanese were truly planning on hitting them...they were planning on hitting them with everything they had in one, brutal, all-out attack.

No holding back. No mercy.

"Everything all at once, everything all together." Thompson whispered, as Sara held his hand in a tight grip.

---

Some minutes later, Jimmy Thach leaned back in the cockpit of his Wildcat and bit his lip. He soared high above the task force, watching warily for Japanese planes as the Dauntlesses took off for their scouting missions. The squat scouts winged away into the rising sun while his stubby fighters formed up around him or in formation over the other carriers. Some of the fighters remained aboard, of course, to escort any potential strike that the scouts vectored in. But more than a few of the Wildcats were up in the air now.

I can agree on the Admiral for this one. We're better off shooting the bastards down before they get close. No need to tempt fate here.

Thach respected Thompson and more than just because of his Weave saving who even know how many of his pilots. The admiral may make no bones about his relative lack of experience and claim other officers were more talent than him. It didn't mean a damn thing to Thach. He saw a humble man with a keen intellect who knew what he was doing better than he'd probably admit to. Did Thompson make mistakes? Sure.

Not like everyone didn't do that, every once in a while.

"Stick close to me, Butch," Thach radioed over to his wingman. The two Wildcats were at the front of the formation circling over Saratoga. And, for that matter, the formation in overall command of the three airwings. "This won't be like Wake, I think. Japs are going to hit us a hell of a lot harder this time."

"What makes you think that sir?" O'Hare's voice came back, less with confusion and more with bemusement.

Thach snorted at that. Yup, typical Butch. He keyed his radio again and fired back with, "Because we were the ones surprising them there. This time, they're the ones hunting us. The big man thinks they're going to throw everything at us, and he hasn't been wrong yet, has he?"

The 'big man' was an irreverent nickname for Thompson. An ironic one, too, considering the man was anything but 'big'. Especially in comparison to the statuesque beauty of either Sister Sara or Lady Lex.

O'Hare was silent for a second, before chuckling softly. "Yeah, seems like something he'd say. I'll keep my head on a swivel. Think we can make triple ace this time, Jimmy?"

"Bet on it! Japs have five carriers left, after all. That's plenty for us all to have our share." Thach chuckled back as he looked around the horizon, scanning for any sign of Japanese fighters or bombers. "Yeah...they'll have enough for all of us."

Fighter pilots were infamous for their 'devil may care' attitude. Having radio to talk to each other like this didn't really change that. It just made it easier to do it, even on missions. Thach thought it was a good thing, since it kept nerves from fraying too badly. As he dove his Wildcat through a thick cloud bank and out the other side, he remembered back to what it was like without easy radio access. Much harder to keep everyone together, that was sure.

That said, when he popped out of the clouds, he saw the distant form of Wasp chugging along. The smaller carrier, distinct from the big conversions or the Yorktowns, had turned into the wind to launch a flight of dive bombers. Her stubby little stack was pouring out fumes as she did so, trailing along her flight deck as the sluggish bombers took to the sky.

Dauntlesses...Thach liked them for what they were, but you couldn't pay him enough to take one of those lumbering beasts up.

"See anything yet, Butch?" Thach winged his Wildcat over and pulled into a lazy turn over the fleet.

Beside him, O'Hare did the same thing. The stubby blue fighter easily keeping pace with his wingman. "Nothing yet. Starting to think the big man was wrong. Maybe the Japs aren't ready to hit us yet?"

"Yeah, maybe you're---"

Thach was cut off, as his radio clicked on again. Only, instead of Butch's voice- or any male voice for that matter -a female voice came over it. "Don't get too comfy, boys! I think something's coming up soon!"

That...that wasn't Sara. The voice didn't have the smooth and mature tones of her voice. Hell, it didn't even have the sultry undertone and easy jokes of Lex. It sounded...less like a mature woman and more like a teenage girl. Maybe sixteen or seventeen?

"...Wasp?" Thach asked the, in hindsight, obvious question. Huh, never heard her before. I know Enterprise was younger than you'd expect, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised?

"Got it in one, sir!" Wasp chirped at him. Okay, that was going to take some getting used to.

Chuckling in spite of himself, the pilot tilted his Wildcat enough to get a look at the small carrier. Obviously, he couldn't see the girl from this high, yet when he looked down, he got the strangest sense he could. The sense of a girl with shoulder length black hair and bright blue eyes jumping up and waving at him. He got the impression she did look like she was sixteen, too. Weird. Then again, he had long since stopped questioning anything involving these ships.

It was better for his sanity, that way.

"So, what're you talking about, Wasp?" Thach didn't even hesitate to ask that question. It didn't even really feel weird now. "See something we're not?"

Silence for a moment. Then the radio crackled again, with Wasp's voice losing that 'teenage girl' factor. Instead, while still young, she spoke with perfect military inflection and precision, "Radar has something coming in from eight o'clock. Not sure exactly what it is, not yet, but it's big."

Radar. Thach was even less used to it than the ship spirits, but he appreciated the utility. And Wasp had one of the newest sets in the fleet, too. Hmm.

"You heard her, Butch. Let's form up and check this out." Thach looked over at his wingman, who simply wiggled his wings in acknowledgment. Some other members of Sara's CAP joined up with them, along with Wasp's, to scope out the contact.

It might be nothing, but Thach didn't think they'd be that lucky. They'd been damn lucky this entire war, aside from Pearl, and he didn't expect that to keep up. Betting on that was dumb and he was anything but a dumb man. If Wasp said there was something out there, and they knew from captured plans that the Japs were planning on hitting the fleet...then it stood to reason that was what was coming.

"Also, sir," Wasp spoke up again, a thoughtful tone to her voice. Along with the image of her tapping her leg. "Sister Sara says that the army planes will be here in...about ten minutes. She says, and I quote, 'give them hell until then.' Didn't know she had that in her!"

A lesser man would have broken down into hacking laughter at that. The prim and proper Sister Sara doing that. Thach just laughed softly. Oh, he knew what kind of creative words that carrier could come up with when she wanted to.

"Sounds about right. Don't worry, we'll keep the Japs busy, if that's them. Right?"

His answer was silence and a grim determination.

---

AN: Thought about including a bit of Japanese perspective...but y'know, this works for a good stopping point. No point in dragging it out to pad the word count when that's basically a perfect 'calm before the storm' ending point.

So, yeah. Sorry about the delay. This break turned out to be a bit more...busy than expected. And that's not even counting being wiped out sick for a good bit of it. Still, with the new year, comes the hope we can get more done faster. Going to definitely focus on that.

(along with the novel, on that note)

Next update will get us to the battle proper. Or so the plan goes.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Chapter 68
Battle of the Solomon Sea, II​

Soaring high above the cloud cover lazily drifting away below him, Kojiro Takeda stared out the windshield of his fighter. The radial engine of his Reisen was a comforting roar in his ears. Familiar vibrations in his seat spoke of a healthy plane and the kind of freedom he had been sorely missing for some time now. He hardly even cared that this freedom was paid for by going into combat. If anything, he equally craved the rush of battle. He had not flown in true combat since the attack on Pearl Harbor, and deep down, he was eagerly anticipating testing his skills against the Americans. All reports indicated they had taken in lessons from China and, in spite of their lack of experience, proven to be quite challenging foes indeed.

The kind of challenge that any true fighter pilot craved with all his being. Strafing defenseless targets was hardly worth it, compared to testing yourself against the enemy at his very best. Nothing else could match it. Putting your very being into dueling with your enemy in the modern equivalent of samurai matching blades.

He almost hoped the Americans were as good as they were claimed to be. An image of a P-40 over a burning harbor entering his mind, for the briefest of moments.

"Carriers sighted. Two Lexingtons and one smaller carrier. Not a Yorktown." The flight leader's voice echoed in his ears, as Takeda craned his head to see far below.

Little more than smudges to him, he could see the American fleet in the distance. Even from this high up and far away, the distinctive silhouette of the American equivalent to Akagi was easily visible. The other one was something more of a mystery. A smaller carrier and not a Yorktown. I thought they only had the two. Hmm. Not my target, though. Not now.

The bombers could handle the carriers. Takeda's duty was to open a hole for the slow Aichi and Nakajima birds. And if he wasn't greatly mistaken, he could see the rising form of American fighters around the smudges of their ships. A thin smile crossed his lips. "Let's see how good the Wildcat is."

Takeda winged his Reisen over, diving on the Americans with the rest of his flight. To their credit, the Americans did not hesitate at all to do the same. Their stubby little fighters clawed for altitude to meet the diving Japanese, glints of sunlight reflecting from their canopies. Soon joined by the glint of shell casings, as the Americans unleashed their machine guns. Takeda clicked his tongue and snapped his fighter into a tight roll. Bullets whizzed by harmlessly, as he returned his sight to an American fighter drifting in front of him.

His own smaller guns, alongside the twenty-millimeter cannon in his fighter's wings, barked. Flashes sparked along the Wildcat's fuselage, a few cannon shell punching through the wings as well. A grim smile crossed his lips as the American began smoking, before his diving fighter zoomed past. One. I doubt that will stop him, though. Not from what I've heard.

Indeed, when he pulled the stick and began to climb again, he saw the smoking fighter stumble into formation with another American, seemingly still perfectly capable of flight.

Shaking his head to clear the errant thoughts, Takeda flew back into the fight. A fight quickly devolving into a free for all as American and Japanese fighters spun and dove across the sky. Takeda's head was on a swivel, trying to keep track of wildly turning planes, looking for a target to hit. He dismissed his initial target right away. The American was leaving the fight and chasing him was a waste of time. Instead, he locked his eyes on an isolated Wildcat, flying directly ahead of him.

Hm. Seemed like an easy target. Perhaps the Americans weren't as experienced as they seemed.

Radial engine roaring in his ears, Takeda pushed the throttle forward and pulled behind the American. His eyes narrowed behind his goggles as he leaned forward in anticipation. Just a little more. Just a little closer, and the seemingly unsuspecting American pilot would be in perfect range for a burst of machine gun and cannon fire. Takeda's grip began to tighten, his guns ready to fire...when the sixth sense of any experienced fighter pilot screamed at him to move.

He didn't hesitate.

His Reisen spun away without firing, as the 'unsuspecting' Wildcat began to turn away. That wasn't what made him move. The moment he had flung his plane to the side, tracers from American fifty-caliber machine guns flew over his canopy. One sparked off his wing, though it didn't hit anything important before he was out of the line of fire. Takeda's head snaped back, eyes glaring at another American, zooming past him without trying to get on his tail.

Smart, as a Wildcat could never turn with a well-flown Reisen. But how had he gotten in position to fire in the first place? Takeda hadn't seen him...what?

Now that he looked, he could see the scene repeating. One of his comrades flaming as he slammed into the sea. A Wildcat, also flaming, but with a wingman pulling up alongside. In the distance further away, a pair of American fighters flew in long circles towards each other. They were...baiting them!

They can't outturn us, so they do not even bother trying. We're eager to shoot them down, so they bait us to do so and then turn to give their wingman a firing angle. Takeda felt a grudging respect for that, even as he pulled around and returned to the fight. "So this is how they play to their strengths, is it? Shall we see how well they can do it when I know what's coming?"

He winged back into the engagement, this time picking a target that he was certain was alone. The American pulled into a dive as soon as Takeda pulled behind him, though the Japanese pilot remained firmly on the American's tail. At least, until the Wildcat began to pull ahead, the heavier weight of the American plane giving it an advantage in a diving fight. So be it.

Takeda didn't wait for a perfect angle, firing the moment the American began to pull out of his dive. Sparks flew along the frame of the Wildcat as it shuddered in place. With a slight smirk, Takeda watched as his shells perforated the cockpit, the Wildcat spinning out of control before slamming into the waves. A confirmed kill. Now, to rejoin the fight and see if he could get another. He only barely noticed, out of the corner of his eye, flak opening up around one of the big American carriers as a bomber formation zeroed in on her. A large portion of the Japanese strike force, in fact.

It was, however, not his mission. So, he paid it no further mind, as he entered back into the trail of flame and smoke that was the raging dogfight over the American formation.

---

Aboard USS Lexington, men ran from station to station, carrying ammunition for guns and preparing planes for launching. Their beloved old ship lurching to the side, as she began a turn into the incoming Japanese attack to provide a smaller target for the enemy. Her many, many guns blasting away at the attackers, while her fighters dueled with the Japanese. It was chaos. A controlled kind of chaos, yes, but chaos nonetheless. A scene repeated on each of her escorts, turning to stay in protective formation around their charge, while also avoiding attacks from smaller flights of Japanese planes.

Lexington was far and away the primary target, however. And Lexington knew that, as she paced on her bridge.

"You're remarkably calm," Captain Sherman looked at the woman, inbetween barking out orders for sharp turns.

The silver-haired woman smiled back, though it was a grim sort of affair, "If I'm acting calm, it's because someone has to. So, Captain, do you think we'll get out of this in one piece?"

"Hard to port, now!" Sherman's answer was shouting another order to the crew, as he lowered binoculars he had put on to observe the incoming bombers. His sharp eyes shifted to Lex, for a moment, before back to the enemy. "We've purged the fuel lines and secured the generators. That's about as prepared as we can be for what you warned us about, Lex." He smiled back, though it was about as lacking in emotion as Lex's own had been. "Nothing more for it than to do our best."

As he shouted out to turn to starboard, Lex shook her head.

I could only warn you about that because the Admiral told me. He also told me when I was due to die. I've outlived my other self a fair bit by now. She blew out a sigh and shook her head, long silver locks cascading all around. Her arms wrapped around her chest, uniform hugging tight, as she allowed herself to show a little of the feeling she couldn't shake. I never asked to know when I would die. It's so...unreal. I don't know how Sara deals with constant exposure to it.

Letting her arms fall to her side, Lex squared her shoulders and pushed that aside. There was a time for that and there was a time to be Lady Lex, the lady of battle she liked to believe herself to be. That time was now. Leaving Captain Sherman to his duties, Lexington strode right out of her bridge and jumped down to her flight deck, shifting and turning as fast as her hull could manage.

Sometimes it was convenient that she couldn't be hurt by something like that, so long as she was on her own hull.

"Come on, men, give 'em hell!" Lex shouted out, her deep voice carrying as she ran up and down her flight deck. A prim and proper lady would never do that. A lady of war gave no care for that, as her weary crew cheered every time she ran past a gun gallery. "Don't let up for even a second, you hear me?! I don't want a single scratch on my paint!"

One of her marines, rushing ammunition to a 20mm position, snorted under his deep pants of exertion, "Always the lady. Don't want a chipped nail, am I right?"

Lex's entirely mature response was to flip him the bird. The marine chuckled and continued on his way, as Lex did much the same. She only stumbled, a little, when a Zero broke off from the melee above to zoom down and strafe her gun crews. A few little scratches ran along her arms, leaking red into her white uniform. Her teeth gritted against the pain as she shook her head. It was nothing. Nothing compared to the screaming men down in the gun positions, screams trailing off in favor of pained moans or endless silence.

"Watch out! We've got Kates coming in now!" One of her crew shouted, a shout taken up by others as the cannon began to turn to bear on the incoming bombers. "Bastards are trying to put some fish into us! Let 'em have it!"

Turning to look, Lex glared at the incoming Japanese bombers. She dearly wished, in that moment, for direct control of her hull. Of her engines and guns. Because as she began to ponderously turn and her guns began to chatter away at the enemy, she knew it wasn't going to be enough. She willed her hull to turn faster. Captain Sherman was the best ship handler she'd ever had, she knew he could dodge anything, given enough time.

There wasn't enough time. Because she could turn her head and see dive bombers coming in from the other side. For whatever godforsaken reason, the Japanese had decided to make her their primary target.

'You died at Coral Sea. The Japanese hit you harder than Yorktown.'

'What killed me? Did they hit me with a dozen fish or something?'

'...your own fuel killed you. Your generators sparked and set off fumes. I'm sorry.'

Hah. That's how it was, then, wasn't it?

Lexington did nothing more than run to the strafed gun position. She was instantly on one of the mounts, herself, instinctively aware of how to use it. Part of her hull. It was all part of her hull, be it new or old. She had no issues at all using this. And use it she did, firing away at the incoming bombers. She was vindictively pleased when one of them went down in flames from her tracers. Even more so when her clever, clever, skipper began to turn her again.

She knew that it was already too late.

Even as she continued to fire away with single-minded determination, the Japanese let loose their fish. The torpedoes, the bane of so many ships in the time the Admiral had come from, surging straight and true. In spite of everything going against them, from her size to her painfully slow turning, Lexington managed to dodge most of the torpedoes. Most. Not all. Three torpedoes slammed into her side in rapid succession. Soon enough joined by bombs from the dive bombers, already peeling away, albeit with several trailing flames as they fell from the sky.

Lex couldn't even tell how many bombs had hit. The moment the torpedoes had slammed into her, she had fell to the ground. Her legs exploding in fiery pain as she slumped into the bloody grave of her gunners.

Oh. That's what it feels...like...

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
​

When her blue eyes opened up, Lex found herself propped against a pillow. A pillow leaning conspicuously to the side, as her entire body did.

"So, you're awake now."

Captain Sherman's tired voice was above her, as Lex tilted her head to look at him. She didn't miss how his cover was gone. Or how his hair was scorched. His smile was tinged with a bit of melancholy too, as he stood above her. His entire body angled slightly in the manner of a man maintaining footing on an uneven surface.

Not that she needed to look at him to confirm that. Past the fog of pain in her legs and side, Lex could feel the cold of water entering her hull. It was hard to describe. Like ice pouring through her veins, ever so slowly creeping up from the wounds in her legs. Displacing the warm blood and replacing it was a deadened feeling. She could feel as her generators labored to keep whatever power they had left and--ah. She twitched and sucked in a labored breath as one shorted out, deep below her in the depths of her hull.

"I kind of wish I wasn't." Lex gave the best cheeky smirk she could at her Captain, who simply raised an eyebrow at her.

"Not the time for jokes, I should think," Captain Sherman rubbed at his brow, his eyes looking away from Lex and towards where the inexorable waters of the Solomon Sea drew ever closer to her hull. "Damage control did all they could, but it wasn't enough. Your engineer guesses we have maybe ten minutes before the flooding gets too severe to stop and then..."

Lex stared up at him, all hints of joviality out of her face, "And then I die, yes."

"You---" Sherman shook his head and sighed deeply. "Always 'going with the flow' as that madman on Saratoga called it. "I dearly wish I could be this calm in the face of my own death."

It took more energy than she'd readily admit, but Lex was able to work her arms enough to prop herself on her bottom. She very intentionally avoided looking at the mess of her legs, as she instead looked at her Captain. He didn't understand. She honestly thought that Admiral Thompson didn't even understand. He was from the future and knew the ships as they truly were, certainly, but he was still only a man. And for as much as the ships acted human when they talked with others, they were still warships. They were still weapons crafted to serve.

Serve she had. To the best of her ability. If she regretted anything, it was leaving her sister behind. Only seeing such a short combat life.

"I'm a warship, Captain. First and foremost." Lex sighed and tilted her head further, looking up at the sky. No planes fought above them. She almost wondered how long it had been since that attack before she woke up. "This is part of my life. Dying in battle is a better fate than the scrapper's torch, I can tell you that much."

Sherman looked at her, before nodding, "That much I can understand. I'd rather die on my feet than wasting away in a bed."

"Then we understand each other," Lex smiled dimly, before it faded with a wince as she felt something break loose, deep in her hull. Captain Sherman reached a hand out, though Lex just waved it away. "No, no, that's part of it too. You need to be leaving anyway. I really don't have much time left."

It looked as if he wanted to dispute the point. Perhaps some spark of chivalry rearing its head and demanding he take the 'poor woman' away to safety. As if Lex could so easily leave her hull. She didn't have the slightest idea how Utah had done it, and right now, it didn't really matter to her. She knew Admiral Thompson could bring her back. This wasn't...really dying. It was going into a deep slumber, but one that she could be woken from at any time.

Or so she told herself.

More importantly, she glared at her Captain as best she could, as tremors began to wrack her lean frame, "Captain, I may be crippled, but I can and will toss you off this ship if I have to. No going down with me!"

Captain Sherman managed the barest hint of a smile, "I wasn't planning on it. I will, however, be the last one off. You won't change my mind on that, dear."

Lex stared at him, before huffing out a sigh. "I'm a Lady, Captain. As the lady of the ship, I do insist that you leave now. It would be polite, yes?"

And putting actions to words, Lex forced herself to her feet. Her cold, so very cold, feet. She could fee the water approaching her boilers now. This would be the last thing she did in this life, and she knew it very well. She still managed, on shaky feet, to reach out and tug Captain Sherman. Even weakened as she was, her strength far surpassed his own. And he didn't even really try to fight her anyway. Lex pulled her Captain to the nearest boat, all too close to her gradually tilting deck.

Looks like I won't be going down 'like a lady' this time, after all.

"Hey, you down there!" Lex called out, her wobbly voice still carrying just as well as it had during the battle. Heads snapped up to her, as she lowered Captain Sherman towards the boat. "Get this fool away from here, will you?"

Her Captain looked at her, one last time, as the arms of sailors reached out for him. It was still a decent drop, though not so far that he would be injured by it. He wasn't worried about that.

"You had better come back, Lex. You hear me?" His voice was filled with determination.

Lex could only smile and nod, "I intend on it."

And like that, he fell away. She heard the splash of him landing beside the boat, as the sailors pulled him from the water and pulled away from her hull. Lex let out a shaky breath and fell back down, all her energy falling with her. Her blue eyes stared up at the sky, as the equally blue waters of the Solomon Sea began to encroach ever more. Her hull was reaching the tipping point of capsizing and she could feel her body sliding towards the edge of her deck. Not that it would have far to go, at this point.

She could only stare, as she felt fires spreading with the water.

"So. This is how it ends. Well, I hope you take good care of my successor, Sara."

When the last word left her mouth, Lexington felt the fires reach her magazines. The last thing she saw were Dauntlesses, painted with Sara's markings, winging overhead.

Then she saw nothing more.

---

Admiral Thompson turned away from the blinding explosion in the distance. Even as far away as Sara was, for her own safety, it was felt on her bridge. Felt and heard. A dull roar and a plume of fire and smoke marking the end of a dear friend. USS Lexington's broken form, shattered by the detonation of her main magazine, slipped faster beneath the waves.

"I did so much and it still wasn't enough." He whispered to himself, as an arm wrapped tightly- painfully so -around his own.

Fire and smoke were a familiar feeling, at this point, as Saratoga also burned. Those fires, sparked by a pair of bombs that had impacted her forward flight deck, were gradually being put out. She was in no danger, though she was also going to have to steam backwards to recover and launch aircraft. It was a minor slap on the wrist compared to what had happened to her sister. Thompson didn't know if it was fate or just plain bad luck.

He wasn't sure it mattered, either.

"Lex..." Sara was holding one hand to her mouth, tears rolling from green eyes. Her other arm was wrapped around Thompson's arm. "After everything...she still..."

Thompson put his own hand on Sara's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze, "I'm sorry, Sara. I had hoped...I never wanted you to have to see that. I thought we could keep Lex safe. I thought I could keep her safe, but---"

He was only slightly surprised when she looked up at him with a sharp glare, "That wasn't your fault."

"Maybe, but I'll still feel like it was." Thompson gave her a wry smile, before letting it be replaced by a pensive expression. "So, we're down Lex and you'll need to head back to port. Wasp is the only one that didn't take any damage."

He could gave whoever was in charge on the Japanese side- Nagumo? Ozawa? Yamamoto himself? -that much. They had clearly ordered strikes on the biggest targets, though Wasp could claim an airwing that was quite potent all on her own. Or perhaps they simply hadn't known Wasp was there. She was a relatively recent addition, on his own request...

May-have-beens weren't important, in that moment, though.

"We're going to hit them back, aren't we?" Sara asked, her voice taking on a low and dangerous tone. A tone that Thompson had never heard from this Sara. From the one he had known in the future, yes, but even then not to this extent. "They're not going to get away with this. Not if I can help it."

He could see the barely-controlled fury beneath her green gaze. Thompson could feel in the tight grip of her arm just how much Sara was holding herself back from trying to take a leap off her deck to sail off on her own. She had confided in him, once.

'Lex and I were supposed to have four other sisters, you know.'

'Yeah, I know. Constellation, Ranger, Constitution and United States, right?'

'Yes. And not a day goes by where I don't regret that I never got to meet any of them. It's why Lex and I are so close. I...for the longest time, other than Mama Langley, I didn't have anyone else.'

And now, as the smoke continued to rise on the horizon, that sister was gone. Right before her eyes. Thompson dearly wished he could have spared her of that. Even the Sara he had known was far apart from what had happened to her Lex. Halfway across the world and unable to see what happened or do anything about it. She hadn't even seen Yorktown before that carrier had been sunk, in turn, at Midway. Everything she knew about Lex's final moments was second-hand until they had both returned.

Not so, here. Here she had to watch it happen and know that she wasn't able to save her sister.

He could only begin to imagine how that was hurting her.

"I'm going to route all of our planes towards the sighting reports." Thompson gave her a small, sad, smile. A scouting report that came too late. Most of the remaining Japanese fleet carriers, sailing in the distance.

"Good." Sara's vindictive voice would need to be addressed later.

He could understand, a little, her anger. He felt a bit of it himself. Yet he would need to remind her that, in the end, they weren't always fated to be enemies with Japan. They would need the Japanese ships. If not now, then in the future. But for this moment...he wasn't even going to try and make that point to her. Because, for this moment, Saratoga needed to grieve. And if focusing her energies on the enemy they faced right now, the enemy that had taken her only sister from her, was how she grieved?

He wouldn't stop her. He couldn't stop her.

---

AN: Right, there's that. Muse hasn't been particularly cooperative lately, though clearly, we have something here now. It's an admittedly belated update, but hopefully still good. Part of the difficulty was figuring out the thing with Lex. We had planned that a long time ago.

It wouldn't be even remotely realistic if the Allies never suffered losses just because Thompson has (increasingly less useful) foreknowledge.

The other difficulty was, as ever, the fact we don't find battles our strong suit. Give us character moments any day >.>

In any event, we sincerely hope the next chapter takes less time. It'll wrap up this little battle mini-arc and then we can move on from there. Probably one or two more in the Pacific, at most after next chapter, then back to Schreiber. Which is going to be fun.