Changing Destiny (Kancolle)

[Skywalker_T-65]

More difficult than expected, this one. But here we are!

Chapter 16:​

I wonder...did Enterprise make a breakthrough?

James sighed softly, as he moved towards the now-familiar carrier in the distance. He hadn't expected the message. He had been going over plans with Sara, and the next thing he knew, one of his crew had come to his bunk. They had borne a message from Enterprise, and more specifically, from Admiral Halsey himself. To say the Admiral had been surprised by this would be understating the situation. He had corresponded with Halsey, of course. The two were putting their heads together to 'figure out the technical issues'. And to develop carrier tactics. But, a high-priority message this did not make.

What he had received, was high-priority.

Annoyingly though, the reason Halsey had been calling for him wasn't listed. Thompson only knew that the older Admiral wanted to see him, right away. Beyond that? He had no idea, as he neared Enterprise. Oh sure, the Admiral had guesses he could make. Such as Enterprise making some form of breakthrough. But he wasn't about to rely on a guess. Better to go in blind, than go in on a false-assumption. This was Bull Halsey he was going to see, after all. The man could be wanting any number of things, and guessing the wrong one could be...less than fun.

To put things mildly.

Shaking his head, James sighed again. He'd figure it out when he got aboard, wouldn't he?

"Permission to come aboard?"

And in that regard, as he stood at the gangplank leading up to the carrier, Thompson could only move forward.

"Granted," the Marine guard replied, not showing any confusion he may have been feeling. "One of my men will escort you to Admiral Halsey, sir."

"Understood."

As the second Marine standing with the guard walked forward, James once again entered the famous warship. His footsteps echoed through her hull, the feeling of being aboard Enterprise never changing. He doubted it ever really would.

Big E...Little E. It doesn't really matter, this is Enterprise. Knowing her and being aboard this ship are two different things.

Sightseeing was hardly the reason he was here though. No, that was the office he rapidly was approaching. It had only been the second time he had actually been in this room, but it felt like the first all over again. This time he wasn't with Halsey. This time, he was going to be entering the man's office without the slightest clue why he was.

Fun times.

"Admiral Thompson has arrived, sir."

"Send him in."

The Marine nodded at the Admiral, stepping aside to allow James forward. Nodding at the guard, the Admiral squared his shoulders and walked into the office.

"Admiral!"

Only to stumble the moment the door was shut, as Enterprise tackled him into a hug. Thompson stiffened, eyes cast down on his waist. Getting a hug from Enterprise didn't happen. Unless you were her sisters and Sara, anyway. And this Enterprise was not the one he remembered. This Enterprise was young enough that he could call her a younger sister, and she was currently wrapped around his waist.

In the middle of Admiral Halsey's office.

When the man in question was staring silently at the younger Admiral, who felt a drop of sweat roll down his face.

"He can hear me Admiral!" Enterprise, by contrast, seemed to have not noticed. "I tried morse like Ari suggested, and it worked. Admiral Halsey can hear me now! But he can't see me yet..."

"..."

"Admiral?"

Halsey coughed in the background, "Well, I see you can see her, James."

"Er..."

"Wait, he can..."

"No I can't." Halsey grunted, the barest twitch of his lips betraying a level of amusement. "But I could see James flinch back like someone hit him."

It was only then that Enterprise seemed to realize what she had done. The blonde carrier pulled back, face going brilliantly red. Equally red eyes looked away from the younger Admiral, as James sighed softly. Well, that hadn't gone according to plan, had it? Then again...never expect that when dealing with a ship girl. They had a unique ability to throw any and all plans out the proverbial window, intentionally or otherwise. Even Sara or Enterprise.

"Sorry Admiral..." Enterprise looked apologetic. "I wasn't thinking."

"Don't be sorry, had to come up eventually." Thompson didn't do anything but pat the carrier on the shoulder, as he looked at Halsey. "So, you can hear her now sir?"

"Bill." The older man pointed out. "And yes, I can. Says she's Enterprise."

James looked between the carrier and the Admiral, before turning back to Halsey, "Because she is."

"I am!" Enterprise added.

"So she's said," Halsey nodded. "But, I have no proof beyond her word. And you have to forgive me, James, but I have no reason to believe that. A ghost is one thing. Her being my girl, is another entirely."

"You have my word."

"I do."

Halsey pulled himself to his feet, walking around his desk. The Admiral looked James in the eye, gruff features betraying nothing about how he felt. James stared right back, doing his utmost to not flinch. Bull Halsey has a presence to himself that no one else did. It was all the younger man could do, to not sweat from the pressure. He couldn't show weakness. Not here. Not now.

Not when he needed to convince the Admiral that he and Enterprise were telling the truth.

"And where is your proof?"

"I can't prove anything, not with you not able to see the girls."

It hurt to admit that, and Enterprise sent him an equally hurt look, but James wasn't going to lie. That would do more harm than good.

"Girls. So, you're telling me it isn't just Enterprise." Halsey raised an appraising eyebrow.

"It isn't. I've talked over the radio with every girl in this base." James realized his mistake a moment too late. "Oh."

Halsey didn't change expression, save for his eyebrow rising higher, "So that was you."

"Yes sir," Thompson didn't bother denying the point. "I couldn't tell anyone, clearly, or I would be called insane. At the least."

"I'm not sure we both aren't insane."

Only Halsey could say that with a straight face, as he turned his attention away from the younger Admiral.

"So, you say you've talked with every ship in this base."

A nod, "I have. Only Arizona, Enterprise, and Saratoga in person though. Sara has been a great help in planning out new tactics. No one knows how to use the birds as well as the carrier launching them."

In the background, Enterprise flushed slightly. James couldn't help but smile at that, recognizing what that was. He hadn't seen it on her before, but he had seen it many times back in the...future. A lot of ship girls were easily flustered, when he brought up how skilled they were. How they knew how to fight better than anyone else possibly could hope to do. He just hadn't seen it from Enterprise before. Granted, he struggled to think of a time he saw the legendary carrier blush to begin with. Wasn't like her.

But, then, this was Little E. Not Big E.

"That explains why you are always visiting Arizona. 'Fond of the old girl' my ass." Halsey's gruff voice didn't hold any amusement, his wording aside. "If each of the ships here has a woman haunting her, then I can ask...Enterprise...to connect them?"

"Yes."

Halsey turned around, his eyes clearly scanning for the carrier in question, "Well?"

"You want me..."

"Do I have to make it an order?"

Enterprise snapped to attention, the look quite cute on such a young looking girl, "No sir!"

Halsey's lips twitched again, as he turned to James, "Saratoga."

"If you want to talk to her, s...Bill."

At a nod from the older man, James turned to Enterprise. He nodded at the young carrier, Halsey intently following the motion. Enterprise just smiled, as she tapped the side of her head, connecting to Sara's own TBS system. Times like this, it was quite useful that he had made such progress in connecting the girls to each other. There was no questioning of the messages. The girls just watched for any communication, and replied promptly. Thompson was hardly egotistical, but he did put that down to his influence. Why would they have reason to send messages, were it not for the efforts he was making to connect everyone? To prepare for the coming war, as best as they could? There was no other reason.

At any rate...

"Little E? Is something wrong with my Admiral?" Sara's soft voice echoed through the office.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sara." Admiral Thompson deadpanned.

"Anytime, sir."

The slight teasing in Sara's voice had James rolling his eyes, even as Halsey continued to stare intently at him.

"I heard that, and it sounded exactly like a radio." The older man spoke, eyes narrowed slightly.

"...Admiral Halsey?"

"If you are Sara, it's good to hear from my old girl." Halsey's mouth formed an ever so slight smile.

"..."

James frowned, running through what he remembered. He couldn't think of Halsey ever commanding Sara...hadn't Enterprise been his first carrier command? All the younger man could remember, admittedly from many years ago, was Bull Halsey serving as Admiral of Enterprise and New Jersey, at varying times. Him being in command of Saratoga didn't register. Not that it was impossible, of course. But he didn't remember reading about that. Not even when doing research on the girls after they returned to fight the Abyssals...

Not that it was impossible he missed something, of course.

"I haven't heard from you, since 1937, sir." Sara broke in, her voice distinctly nostalgic. "You were a good Captain, sir."

"I like to think so."

Now James and Enterprise were sharing a look, thoroughly confused by the situation.

"I am glad you can hear me," the elder carrier continued. "Is that why you called me, Little E? Admiral?"

Coughing lightly, Thompson nodded, "Yeah, that's why."

"You need proof, right?"

"Yes."

"Captain Halsey always was one to want proof. Don't try lying to him, or bad things would happen."

Halsey grunted, "I see my reputation endures over there."

"Of course."

As enlightening as this conversation was proving to be, James coughed again. He had to make sure that he could get through to Admiral Halsey. If the man didn't believe that the ships were the ones talking, it would not end well. James didn't want to run the risk of getting removed from command, considering he had admitted to being the source of the radio problems. Halsey may have been a maverick at the best of times, but he did follow the chain of command. And, well, James wasn't really inclined to worry about that ending up with him removed from that chain. What he had done could end up that way.

If he didn't convince Halsey that he was telling the truth.

"Do you believe us now, Bill?"

"You have certainly made a good case," Halsey replied. "However, this is still not full proof. I have no way of assuming that our girls aren't haunted by normal ghosts..."

Halsey snorted in amusement.

"Normal ghosts. Damn it, I shouldn't be able to say that." Shaking his head, the Admiral continued. "Ghosts that can use the TBS and Morse sets, perhaps. But still just spirits, even if they follow orders."

"We aren't lying sir." Sara spoke up.

"Yes!" Enterprise nodded herself. "Why would we have a reason to lie about this? Right Admiral?"

For his part, Thompson just frowned, "I don't know what else we can do, Bill. The girls can't do any thing else with their hulls, or I would suggest that."

"And thank God for that." The older man grimaced. "I do not need my ship acting on her own."

Enterprise frowned, "I would never act without orders! You're my Admiral sir, and I think you're almost like a..."

And promptly trailed off, looking away. James felt a sudden urge to hug the girl, as the young carrier looked very upset. Or, at least, worried. She might have overstepped her bounds. That was what she was likely thinking.

"Like what?" Halsey, on the other hand, was staring intently at where Enterprise's voice came from.

"..."

"I want an answer."

The carrier looked at James for support, "Admiral?"

"I say tell him. What's the harm, really?"

And he knew what she wanted to say. She had told him as much, the very first time they had met in this time. He couldn't blame Enterprise. She had every right to worry about saying what she felt. But the fact remained...it may be the one thing that could break through the stubborn shell of one Bull Halsey.

"Right..." The blonde took in a deep breath, before looking exactly at Halsey. "You're like a father to me, sir. I...none of my other commanders. None of the workers who built me. Not one of them cares about me like you do. You always treated me as more than just a pile of steel and oil. I...I know that you never really considered me alive like I am. But..."

Enterprise trailed off, her voice softening as red eyes looked at her feet.

"You always loved me. I know it sounds silly, but you always cared about me more than anyone else ever has. You've treated me well, Admiral. Better than I probably deserve..."

"Enough."

Halsey's gruff voice had Enterprise looking up, as James leaned against a wall. Hearing her air her heart like that...

I feel sorry for her. What if he never believes her?

"So, you think I'm like a father?"

The carrier nodded hesitantly, "I do. I know it's..."

"No, that isn't foolish."

And once more, both carrier and younger Admiral were staring at Halsey. Who stared right back, at least at James.

"Bill?"

Halsey ignored that, walking forward. He clearly still couldn't see Enterprise, but the carrier walked towards him as well. Admiral Thompson merely watched, staying out of the way. This...this felt like an intensely private moment he was intruding on. James felt that he shouldn't be here, but he wasn't going to leave. No. He just stayed where he was, watching as Halsey stopped walking. Enterprise stopped as well, just barely in front of the older Admiral. Gruff features twisted into a small smile, as Enterprise smiled hesitantly as well. She looked...hopeful. Hopeful...

James truly, honestly, hoped that wasn't misplaced. Enterprise deserved to be happy. All of these girls, from the smallest frigate to the soon to be build Iowas, deserved to be happy. God only knew their intended purpose and service didn't leave much room for that.

And perhaps, Halsey realized that himself. The man had done nothing to deny what Enterprise felt. He had made no moves to change his expression, or move from his spot. The Admiral just stared into space, unable to see Enterprise, but seeming to realize she was right in front of him anyway. And that he hadn't denied her was...at least a positive sign. Maybe, just maybe, he was willing to believe what he was hearing now. One could...

Hope.

"You seem to understand me well," Halsey finally spoke up again. His voice retained it's gruff tone, but there was less bite to it. "And you are right. While I was fond of Saratoga, Enterprise always did have a special place for me. This carrier...she's not like any others. There's always been something unique about Enterprise. A certain feeling, that she would never let me down. So long as I worked with her, she would never fail or sink."

"Admiral..."

"And yes, I do care for Enterprise more than any other ship. She's never let me down, and I don't think she ever will. Enterprise is the most reliable ship I've ever served aboard. So..."

Halsey stepped forward, as Enterprise looked up at him with wide eyes.

"If you really are her, prove it."

Unable to hold herself back, the young carrier jumped forward and wrapped her arms around Halsey's waist. The Admiral rocked back, eyes widening slightly. It was the most emotion he had shown yet, in fact.

"I...I..." Little E got out somehow. "Admiral, please, let this be enough..."

For his part, James smiled slightly, "You can feel her, at least."

"And see her."

The younger Admiral nodded, even as Enterprise pulled back in shock, red eyes staring up at the older man.

"You..."

"Well, Sara was right I see. The more you care for the ship, the more receptive you are to seeing her." Thompson smiled softly.

"Of course I was."

Sara's voice managed to get a deep laugh from the younger Admiral, and soft giggles from Enterprise. Giggles that, of course, trailed off as she looked up at Halsey. Who was looking down on her, eyes appraising. Enterprise shuffled under that look, even as Halsey's face didn't change expression.

"Admiral..."

Didn't change, but his hand did reach out. Halsey placed it on Enterprise's shoulder, looking down on the blonde girl.

"What is this excuse for a uniform, sailor?"

"Eh?"

James sighed, holding a hand to his face, "Why did I expect that?"

Halsey's lip twitched, as Enterprise looked more confused than anything.

"This is my uniform though...I was born with this...?"

And then it hit her like a speeding bullet.

"Wait...sailor?" Enterprise's crimson eyes widened. "You...Admiral..."

The older man merely nodded, squeezing down gently on Enterprise's shoulder.

"I can't say I believe you, not entirely." Halsey continued. "But you are not anyone who has ever been aboard this ship. So I find it hard to believe you're just a ghost. Moreover, the way you describe how I feel about Enterprise...well. This is hard to believe, and I will need to see Saratoga or Arizona first. But I'm willing to talk with you...Enterprise."

The carrier didn't...couldn't...reply to that. She buried her face in Halsey's broad chest, as the older Admiral turned his head to James. There was an entirely serious look on it, that made the younger Admiral sweat again. This wasn't like the looks he had gotten before. This was a different level.

"If I see the same on those ships, you know what that means, James."

"Bill?"

"We will need to go to Washington. This is not something that can be kept secret." Halsey's lips tilted upwards ever so slightly. "Especially if the other ships try to do the same."

Well...I can't say I didn't expect that...

Even so, James felt a chill run down his spine. Washington. Revealing the existence of these girls...

We know how to do it now. Utah will breakthrough. Lex. Yorktown. Cali. Virginia. How long is it, until every ship in the fleet find someone they can get through to?

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Moving back to Europe...butterflies continue to spread.

Taranto​

The cool breeze of a Mediterranean night was a familiar experience in the port of Taranto. The key Italian naval base, tucked away in the 'heel' of the nation. A base that had been quiet, save for the occasional overflight of British recon birds. Perhaps understandably, the forces in this base had grown just as quiet. Complacent. There were no sounds, save for the quiet lapping of water against dark hulls, and the occasional man wandering on patrol. Taranto was asleep, the base dreaming away what was for all intents and purposes an average night.

Ah, I do enjoy quiet nights. There is far too much noise during the day, I never get any time to think.

The old battleship Andrea Doria smiled, as she walked along her hull. Cool wood echoed with each step, as the battleship paced along the silent deck. Wind brushed back dark brown hair. And equally brown eyes looked out at the twinkling of lights around the harbor. The light reflected off the dark metal of her hull, as the old warship listened to the sounds of night in Taranto. Familiar sounds, that had a smile tugging at her lips.

Doria had lived for a long time. She had seen many things. But nothing was ever quite like the gentle waves caressing her hull, and the quiet of a slumbering naval base. Her smile refused to fade away, as she carefully stepped around her night watch. The young man, face pinched in a scowl, didn't notice her. Doria just laughed softly at his expression. Oh, she did so enjoy seeing how her crew reacted to their duties. Many young men just like this one had walked through her hull. Each and every one of them was unique, and Doria was fond of them all.

"Nothing ever happens at night." The man grumbled, a sudden gust of wind making him tug at his cap. "Waste of my time."

"Ah ah," Doria waved her finger. "Always be vigilant. Your fathers taught the Austrians that lesson."

Of course, the young man- a boy, really -made no sign he noticed her. It didn't bother the old battleship though. She knew he wouldn't react, even as she watched him leave. Oh, it might have hurt her at one time. Doria's smile fell slightly, when she remembered the heady days of her early years. But honestly? As she turned back to the harbor, it didn't bother her anymore. She loved her crew, and wouldn't trade them for anything.

Even if that meant she could never actually talk to them.

Oh well. She had learned long ago to not dwell on those thoughts. It was unbecoming of her, a proper battleship. Not like those harlots in the Royal Navy, strutting around like they owned the globe. Rule Britannia her finely shaped stern! Though, despite herself, Doria felt soft laughter building up in her chest. Soft, genuine laughter. It was good to poke fun at the Royal Navy. Though...

"I do worry, sometimes." The battleship rubbed her chin, as her boots tapped against the hardwood of her deck.

Poking fun at the Royal Navy let her avoid thinking about the battles between her comrades and the English. Conflicts hadn't...hadn't been in the Italians favor. Doria's laughter faded away, like the sound of her night-watch's footsteps. Brushing back her long hair, the Italian blew a stray lock from her face. She worried sometimes, even if she would never readily admit it. Poking fun at the Royal Navy was all well and good, and she enjoyed doing it. Arrogant assholes.

But.

But, Doria knew the truth better than most. Like young little Littorio, off in the dark distance. Doria turned around, her dark eyes trailing along the sleek form of the new battleship, admiring her lean lines. Littorio was a new breed, her long hull spread out like a lounging cat. Beautiful lines. A sharp bow. A shapely stern that had Doria feeling almost envious...almost! And her guns. Those powerful, elegant fifteen inch rifles. So powerful...

Wait. What was she thinking?

Ah, my mind was drifting again. Still, Littorio is a fine successor.

Doria just wished the younger girl didn't have to face her trial by fire with the Royal Navy. Far better to fight the French, whom she was designed to beat. The old battleship, sighing as her feet carried her to her own forward turrets, was confident against the cheese eaters. France was neither a naval power, nor a match for the Regia Marina. Not in the slightest, or Doria wasn't a battleship. The Royal Navy though...Doria shuddered. The wind suddenly felt much colder, as she remembered her older cousin, Giulio Cesare, bore a wound from HMS Warspite.

Still though, they were safe in Taranto. Doria did not have the urge for battle that the younger ships felt, and was perfectly content where she was.

We're safe here, of course. Not even the Royal Navy can break Taranto op...op...

Brown eyes widening in sudden shock, Doria spun around. Her feet cracked against her deck, as she sprinted to the side of her hull. Dark eyes stared out at the water, as her hands gripped down on the railing by her side. Her already pale skin was almost ghostly translucent, white-knuckles gripping the old metal. Like her life depended on it.

She had never felt fear before, but Andrea Doria imagined this might be it.

"No..." she breathed out, her deep voice cracking like a broken record.

This was impossible. It was impossible!

"Aircraft! Aircraft in the harbor!"

But as the young man she had been doting over shouted out, Doria looked out at the harbor. Her face twisted into a frown, as dark eyes scanned for any sign of what she heard. The dull roar of piston engines. Pale hands gripping her railing so hard she almost wondered how it was intact, Doria rapidly scanned the sky.

Luckily for her, the British made it easier.

Pale green and red lights sprung to life, behind her and the other battleships. Pulling back from her side, Doria's feet pounded along her deck, as she ran back. Her lithe body used her new speed to duck and weave around her crew, many of them not even dressed. Confusion reigned supreme, not least from the battleship herself. She vaulted up her superstructure, taking the steps two at a time. Doria panted heavily, as her long skirt flew around her legs.

She couldn't believe it. It didn't seem possible!

Biplanes...

But as she crested the last steps, only narrowly avoiding running smack into her lookout, the battleship looked out from the base of her mast. Her brown eyes had not fooled her.

Biplanes. The British had sent in biplanes! The aircraft she saw illuminated by their own flares, by searchlights and the first antiaircraft fire from herself and the other battleships, wouldn't have looked out of place when she was commissioned. Doria was in shock. Who in their right mind would send aircraft like that to attack Taranto?!

"Cavour was hit!"

"Keep firing!"

"Where the hell did they come from?"

Shouts reached the old battleship, forcing her head away from the aircraft. Her eyes burned, as the sight of a flaming biplane shooting into the harbor was burned in her vision. Doria shook her head, clearing her eyes as she grabbed the railing by her side. The battleship slid down the rail, not a care in the world for how her skirt fluttered around her hips. No one could see her anyway!

But she needed to get to her bridge, and find out what the hell was happening.

Letting go of the rail the moment she reached the bottom of the stairs, Doria crashed on her shapely stern, wincing softly. But only wincing, as she forced herself up, and sprinted the remaining distance to her rebuilt bridge. Her Captain was barking out orders, as men scattered through the bridge, struggling to make sense of the madness. Doria felt for them, she really did. All of these men...young boys, who had yet to even fully work up from her long refit. But there was no time for that now. She was a battleship, and there was a battle on.

And I won't fail.

"Captain," Doria panted out, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. "What is even going on? How...?"

Her Captain indeed made no sign he heard her, as he turned around, eyes narrowed. He looked out at the harbor for what felt like an eternity, before turning back to his crew. Her crew.

"Continue firing!" The elder man barked out, before turning away from the weapons officers, and marching over to the inter-ship communication systems. He picked up the 'phone' and held it to his ear, as Doria stood behind him. "Engineering, can we get underway?"

"No sir!" Was the immediate response, as the sounds of frantic activity rang through the system. "Even if we had pressure in the boilers, the torpedo nets are still in place!"

Doria felt the sudden urge to hug her Captain, as the man held a hand to his face. She felt...she felt pain in her chest. He looked so lost...

"Right...right. The nets." Shaking his head, the man dropped the phone and marched back over to look out at the harbor. His hands clenched by his sides, as the young- for a Captain -man grimaced. He took in a breath, working to calm himself. It didn't do much good, and even Doria could see that. Still, he turned his head, and looked out at the other crewmembers nonetheless. "Get the guns going, and keep up the attack. Do not let those English bastards hit us."

A chorus of nods answered that, as the inexperienced crew set out to their jobs.

For her part, Doria looked out at the harbor. Her hands itched to do something. She didn't even know what either. But the battleship wanted to do something to help. She felt the dull thud of her own anti-aircraft weaponry, so recently added, firing into the sky. Tracers lit the sky like the Christmas tree her crew occasionally brought out. Doria hissed softly, when she saw the British aircraft illuminated by the light.

Two were peeling away from Cavour, her elder counterpart already riding low in the water.

Two more were even now diving on Littorio's sister, Vittorio Veneto. Doria held her hand up, clenching her fist over the aircraft. It took every ounce of self-control she had to not scream in frustration. She was not typically loud or quick to anger. But...but...

Damn it this was not a normal situation!

"Miss...miss...miss..."

Muttering under her breath, the battleship ducked past the outstretched arm of her Captain, her boots clacking against the metal of her bridge. At least, until the noise was absorbed by the rattle of machinegun and cannon fire. Doria paid little mind to her guns, her attention entirely focused on the planes diving on Veneto. One of the slow British planes burst into flame, making a small smile cross Doria's face.

Take that!

The top wing of the bomber fell away, as it crashed into the harbor just short of Veneto's stern. The other bomber, however, managed to peel away. Doria watched it go, the cold grip of fear clenching around her heart. Her anger fled as quickly as it had come, as she looked at Veneto. The young battleship, complete for a scarce few months, shuddered.

Fire and water shot into the sky, Veneto's bow hit directly by a torpedo. That shouldn't have been possible! They all, Doria and the other battleships, had torpedo nets. It should have stopped that warhead. Why didn't it? How did she get hit? What was even going on?!

"This is impossible...we were safe. We were safe. We were..."

Doria repeated this mantra, even as she felt her legs give out underneath her. Cold water sprayed up, soaking her hair and uniform. The torpedo from the first bomber had been in the water...it had only narrowly missed her!

"They're leaving..."

The battleship's head snapped up, a member of her crew standing by her side. The man wore only a shirt and his underclothing, and made no indication he saw her. But Doria hardly noticed. A weary smile crossed her face in fact. Cavour and Veneto...both were hit, but the English had lost four planes in doing so. They had hurt the Italian fleet. But Doria felt a small hint of triumph in her heart...they had hurt the Englanders as well!

Yes, they were bloodied. But they were not beaten! But...

Her hope was fleeting.

"Second wave!" Her lookout cried, his voice reaching even from the tall mast.

The man next to Doria cursed lowly, his eyes looking up at the sky, "Where are the bastards coming from?!"

Climbing to her feet, eyes narrowed, Doria agreed, "Indeed."

Both battleship and sailor turned as one, the sharp crack of Doria's boots joined by the soft patter of his bare feet. She wasn't focused on that though. Or even on dodging out of the way of her crew, ignoring as the men...phased through her. The experience was unpleasant. Like someone dropped ice water down her spine. But Doria forced that feeling aside.

She couldn't focus on that, not when there was another wave of biplanes coming into view. Dull green flares joined stabbing searchlights, as the antique looking aircraft dove down to the water. They flew so slow and low that Doria almost felt she could reach a hand out and grab one, if it were close enough. The English were insane, they had to be!

But insane or not...

They just kept on coming.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

Lieutenant Aubrey Brown bit his lip, as wind rushed through the open canopy of his old Stringbag. Blue eyes stared out at the harbor beneath him, as the pilot nosed down to wave-top level. Searchlights broke into the night sky, brilliant white beams searching for himself and his comrades in the second wave. His eyes quickly moved away from the searchlights though, to preserve his night vision. Instead, the young Englishman focused in on his target. The recon photos he and the rest of the men had gone over were fresh in mind.

Pulling hard on the controls of his antique looking bomber, Brown cursed softly. His arms ached with the pressure of flying the old biplane. Sweat dotted his brow. His legs shook sympathetically with the plane he was flying, as the big engine shook the light frame. But through it all, he felt a sense of pride. The Royal Navy was not out of this war yet!

"Bloody hell Aubrey, they're really hammering the sky aren't they?" His gunner, John Taylor, shouted over the wind rushing past the men.

Brown snorted, though the sound was lost in the wind, "That they are! Hold on back there, we're heading in low!"

"Hanging on for dear life, aye!"

"Smartass!"

Whatever Taylor shouted back was lost, as Brown kicked the Stringbag's engine to full power, nosing over into a dive. Ack-ack from the Italian battleships burst all around, some coming uncomfortably close. The young pilot grimaced, as he felt the sharp rush of shrapnel flying past his face. His arms shook with more than just exertion now, to say the least!

But he didn't let it get to him. He couldn't.

Forcing his mind and body to cooperate with each other, Brown leveled out a scant fifty feet from the water's surface. So close, he could see the small waves lapping against the Italian battleships. So close, he could taste the salt from water kicked up by his plane's engine. The Lieutenant tore his focus from that though, as he saw the thing that should have his focus.

There you are, you pretty thing...

The new Italian battleship, either Littorio or her sister Veneto. The pretty ship, about all she had really, loomed out of the darkness. Her hull bristled with guns, all spewing lead into the sky around the old Stringbag. Brown softly let out a prayer, as he nosed over slightly. His plane responded promptly, even loaded down with a heavy torpedo. She moved slightly over to the left, as the following two Swordfish mimicked the move. Brown assumed they did anyway, not like he could look over his shoulder to check! No, all his focus was on one simple thing.

Slamming this torpedo up that pretty girl's skirt.

"Right...right..." The young pilot muttered, as he shook sweat from his face. He bit his lip, the imposing form of the battleship continuing to fire at his fragile plane. He ignored the fire, though. All his attention on...on...

"Torpedo away!"

A dull thump sounded over the roar of his engine and Italian gunfire, as the Stringbag almost bounced upwards with the sudden lack of weight. Grinning at the picture-perfect launch, Brown tugged up. The old bomber responded quickly, peeling away from the enemy fire, as Brown focused on getting out of sight and out of mind. He couldn't afford to watch his torpedo, however much he wanted to. He had seen a Swordfish plunge into the water aflame, and had no intention of the same happening to him.

No sir!

That said, as he grunted against the force of the wind trying to tug his plane back down, he heard a thunderous roar. Soon joined by a whoop of joy from the seat to his rear.

"Direct hit! I repeat, direct hit! Look at that fire!"

Brown grinned, even as he leveled his Stringbag out and set off out of the danger zone, "I would love to, but unless you want to join them down there, I need to get us out of here!"

There was nothing but a deep laugh in response to that, as the Royal Navy bird flew out of Taranto as fast as it could.

Leaving behind a burning battleship, Littorio. And a harbor that burned just as brightly...quite a fitting tribute to Trafalgar Day. Maybe October 21, 1940 would go down in history as the same...the crippling of another enemy fleet by the Royal Navy!

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Chapter 17:​

You know, this is not exactly how I expected this to happen.

Admiral Thompson sighed softly, as he looked at the paper in his hands. Halsey sat across from him, and Enterprise looked between the two men with clear confusion written across her face. Granted, he would have preferred to have Sara in that position. The Admiral trusted Enterprise with his life, of course. She was Enterprise. But, he missed having his friend there with him all the same. Hell, Sara would probably have some good advice for him right about now.

But no.

He was on his own here, staring down the paper that refused to change or spontaneously burn up. Which would be nice, since it might get his mind off it. Since that was hardly likely to happen though...

"Taranto," Thompson finally spoke up, looking up at Halsey.

"Taranto," the other Admiral replied, nodding along. Though the nod was directed at Enterprise, who snapped to attention.

She had been doing that a lot, lately. Ever since Halsey was able to see her, every time that Thompson came to Big E, the carrier was acting more and more like a proper sailor. It was an interesting transformation to watch, actually. Hell, he could still remember what she was like the first time he was here. All timid and shy, but eager to please. Now she was acting...well. Still timid as all hell, but at least a bit more like a sailor.

It was nice to see, in a way, wasn't it? More familiar at least.

"Sara is connected, Admiral," Enterprise spoke up, her voice pitched just right to mimic Halsey himself.

If the twitch of the man's lips was any indication, it amused him. The Admiral nodded at his carrier, before turning to Thompson again, "Well, James?"

"I still wish I was doing this on Sara," the younger man replied, getting a raised eyebrow from his counterpart. Sighing, Thompson nodded and held the paper up. No delaying, apparently. "British hit the Italians napping. Glorious and Eagle, they lost six bombers in exchange for one Italian battleship sunk, and two crippled. Not bad, considering it was a night attack."

"Hm..." Sara hummed in thought, her voice carrying through the room. "I wonder. We, Lex and I, have demonstrated the vulnerability of the fleet here at Pearl several times now Admiral. But never at night."

Halsey grunted softly, laying a hand on the table as sharp eyes bored into Thompson. Who still felt uncomfortable under that gaze, completely unused to working with Bull Halsey, even now.

"I've seen the Fleet Problems. Pearl is at risk, yes. But I find it very hard to believe the Japs would ever manage a night attack from across the entire goddamn Pacific."

Thompson shrugged, placing the paper back down. He knew the answer, of course. The Japanese wouldn't try a night attack, but they didn't need to. Hitting Pearl on a Sunday morning worked just as well, now didn't it? It had worked better than the Taranto raid. And that was what he was trying to prevent, no matter what it took to do it.

"I don't think they would, honestly." Thompson continued. He hated lying. If Halsey ever caught him out on it, an ass-chewing was the least of his worries. But one step at a time, and the other Admiral was sure as hell not ready to know the full truth. "But, if the Brits can do this with two antique carriers, I wonder what Japan could do with two antiques and two modern carriers?"

In the background, Enterprise frowned. The blonde carrier walked up to the table, tilting her head down at the seated Admirals. More specifically, she tilted it at Thompson. He looked right back up, leaning back slightly. Maybe she didn't realize it, but Little E's red eyes made her stare quite...intense. Regardless of how young she was.

"Four carriers...we have four in the Pacific too, Admiral." Enterprise finally spoke up, honest confusion in her tone. Her head tilted to the side slightly, the carrier tapping the table in thought. "And aren't two of them the same as Aunt Lex and Sara?"

"Aunt?" Halsey raised an eyebrow, looking at his carrier. Daughter. Whatever one was calling her now.

Enterprise blushed brightly, as Sara giggled over the radio. Thompson just sighed, though his mouth twitched up into a smile. Seemed like every time Little E opened her mouth, she managed to embarrass herself. It was almost...ah screw it. It was cute as all hell, even if it was nothing like the E he remembered.

"At any rate," still, he took pity on the poor carrier. Enterprise sent him a grateful look, as the Admiral continued speaking. "Lex and Sara are a hell of a lot better than Akagi and Kaga. So no, they may be the same age, but I'd bet on Sara over them, ten times out of ten."

Maybe he was a little biased, so what? Either way, the fact did remain that Lex and Sara were much better conversions than Akagi or Kaga could ever hope to be. That was just simple facts, no offense to the girls in question. Akagi may have been a friend, but that didn't change the truth. Especially not...not when he would have to fight her, at some point in the future.

One step at a time Thompson, one step at a time.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Admiral," for her part, Sara's voice had changed. The carrier was much more subdued and sounded thankful.

Smiling, Thompson shook his head. Just like with Little E, he sometimes forgot this Sara wasn't as confident in her abilities as the one he remembered. She was still the kind, great friend he remembered. But on the other hand, he needed to remember the differences. Even now, months later, it wasn't always easy.

He wished he could be with Sara to place a hand on her shoulder. Remind her that he trusted her implicitly. But he wasn't. And as such...

"Not a problem, Sara," the Admiral replied, smile not fading. Even if he knew she couldn't see it. "Anyway, Glorious and Eagle aren't anything to write home about either. If the British can do it, you can bet the Japanese will at least try, if we ever end up at war."

Halsey scowled as the younger man finished, placing his hands on the report. His eyes narrowed, the Admiral looking like...well, like Thompson might have expected. "I'd like to see the sons of bitches try. They'd have to get past us first."

And there was the other problem. Thompson sighed inwardly, as he resisted every urge to shake his head. Halsey was a very confident man, to say the least. And it was hardly his place to judge him, wasn't it? This was Bull Halsey. But...but...

Even the best could be wrong.

"They don't have to," Thompson spoke, pointing at Enterprise. "We only have Sara and Enterprise here right now. You can't tell me, Bill, that we'll always have all our carriers around Pearl. Or that even if we do, they can't be snuck past. Or sneak attacked."

"You really think they'll hit Pearl, James?" Halsey replied, seemingly ignoring what the younger Admiral had said. Instead, the square-faced man got to his feet, walking over to the porthole overlooking the harbor. Halsey remained silent as he did so, doing nothing but looking out the window.

"Admiral?" Enterprise, at least, was confused by this. She looked torn between going to Halsey's side, and staying where she was.

"You know, I would have thought the Japs would hit the Philippines or the Dutch first. That's what all our plans are built around." The older Admiral finally spoke, not turning from the window. "Hell, it's what I'd do in their shoes. Hit hard and fast, take what you need. I can sure as hell tell you that MacArthur aside, you won't find a man off the street who wants to fight a war over the Philippines."

"I don't blame them." Thompson sighed, even as he spoke those words. Because...

Well, actually I do but got to act the part.

He couldn't say what he really felt. Leaving East Asia to the Japanese was far from a good thing. He knew that. But it was just him. No one else in the American leadership would or could. And the average Joe on the street? What real reason would they have to care about a bunch of islands halfway across the world, when Germany was rampaging through Europe? Hell, he even understood why they felt how they did!

But that didn't mean he liked it. Thompson sighed again, clenching his fist under the table. Sometimes, he really did hate being in the time he was in.

"But, on the other hand, Taranto," the Admiral tapped at the paper still sitting on the desk. "The Japanese aren't fools. They'll know an attack on a defended port is possible. If they could cripple our navy at dock like the Brits did to the Italians..."

Halsey grunted, "Yeah, I do see what you mean James. I think it's a damn fool move of them, but then, anyone can make a fool of themselves. So, what do you expect to do about it?"

Thompson blinked slowly at that question, as Halsey finally turned around. The older man walked over to the Admiral, his footsteps echoing through the room. Not that the younger man was particularly focused on that. He gulped slightly, still hating being put on the spot by Halsey like this. It never got easy damn it.

Even so, nothing to but damn the torpedoes and go full speed ahead.

"Well..."

---

"Hm."

If staring down Halsey had been bad, Thompson was inclined to argue that staring Admiral Richardson down was at least a close second. He stood in front of his overall commander, with his fellow Carrier skipper beside him. They had both discussed plans long and hard before this, collaborating with both Sara and Enterprise. And now, it was up to him to put those plans into action. No pressure, right?

"I will be level with you, Admiral Thompson," Richardson continued, tapping a finger against his desk in thought. "I am well aware of how vulnerable Hawaii is to attack. I have seen the Fleet Problems, and have brought this to Washington numerous times since the move from San Diego. You do not need to convince me of the danger."

"Sir?" Thompson blinked slowly, looking at Richardson. He didn't need to...

Wait.

Ah...right.

Richardson had been sacked from his position entirely because he kept trying to argue the point that Pearl wasn't ready to serve as the main anchorage for the Pacific Fleet. He had argued long and hard that the fleet should stay at San Diego, at least until Pearl was ready to be properly defended. Well then, that was a weight off his shoulders. Thompson resisted the urge to slump slightly in relief, as his heart felt lighter than it had in months.

"However."

And just like that his head was back up. Admiral Richardson reached up, pulling off his glasses. The elder man absently rubbed them with a cloth, though his sharp eyes never left his subordinates.

"Why are you bringing this to my attention now?"

Thompson sighed softly, placing a hand on his pocket, where the report from Taranto still rested. It wasn't much. Hadn't done any real good in the past he remembered. But it was all they had right now, and he was going to make the most of it, no matter what.

"Taranto, sir," the Admiral replied, clenching his fist on the report. "The British have proven an attack on a defended fleet base is possible, outside our own Fleet Problems. If the Japanese are paying any attention at all..."

"The sons of bitches might try the same." Halsey finished, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The bull-headed Admiral looked at Richardson with an appraising eye, judging his nominal superior carefully. "James has valid points. I still find it hard to believe they'd be stupid enough to attack American land first, but if they do, we need to be ready to give them a licking they'll never forget."

"Hm," all Admiral Richardson did in response was put his glasses back on, and walk around his desk. His footsteps were heavy, the measured steps of a man confident in his position. Not a man who was going to hold back on anything. "I told you both already, you do not need to convince me. I have been saying this from the day we moved to Pearl, and will continue as long as I am in a position to do so. I have made studying the Japanese Navy my life's work, gentlemen. I daresay I understand more about them than anyone in our Navy."

It took everything Thompson had to not counter that point. He knew more about the Japanese than even Richardson. Hell, he knew more about the Japanese than the Japanese did! His time in Japan. Talking with Akagi and Kongou. How they...his friends...no. No.

The Admiral clenched his fist again, the bite of his nails in his palm getting his mind off those memories. It wouldn't do to think about happier times, not when they were enemies now. All he could do was move forward, and try not to think about...about fighting them. At any rate, as the dull pain in his hand focused his mind on a different tack, Thompson knew he couldn't say what he did know. Richardson had indeed spent much more time and effort, and trying to counter that was pointless. And dangerous, for that matter.

It wouldn't do to get caught out knowing things I can't explain away...

"But, if we also lend our support," Thompson began, pushing the stray thoughts out of mind. At least for now. "Would that be..."

"No."

The reply was short. The tone final. Admiral Richardson shook his head, looking first at Thompson, then Halsey. And then back to the erstwhile time-traveler, who felt like he was under a microscope once again.

"You're young, James." Richardson continued, an ever so slight sigh coming from deep within his chest. The elder man placed his hands to his side, looking for all the world like a man with too much weight on his shoulders.

That was a feeling Thompson could understand. His breath caught in his throat, as he thought about that. Damn it...maybe he had more in common with his fellow Admirals than he thought.

It was something to keep in mind, at the least.

"You and Bill have long careers ahead of you. You're the best carrier men we have, and I won't see either of you sacked trying to help me. If Washington will listen, they will. If they won't, I will be the only one taking the fall. We need men like you two on our frontline, if a war does come." Admiral Richardson shook his head, a wry smile crossing his lips. A very small smile, but one nonetheless. "Someone will have to make sure all the work you've done doesn't go to waste. I'll pull what strings I can, and get more defenses set up. That's the most I can do."

Thompson opened his mouth, ready to deny the point. He wasn't going to lose the support of the one man who could make Pearl safe. But even as the words formed, they just as quickly died in his throat. All he could do was let out a defeated sigh, aware that arguing was pointless. Never argue with a superior officer, no matter the situation, eh?

So instead of arguing, all Thompson could say was a simple, "Yes sir."

"Good," Richardson nodded back, as he walked back around his desk. The man tapped at the wood, as his eyes moved towards the door into his office, though. "Now, there is something you two can do to help me. He should be arriving momentarily."

"He?"

"Who?"

Thompson and Halsey looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes. The time-traveler had to hold back a snort, while Halsey's lip twitched. Richardson merely raised an eyebrow from behind his desk, as knocking came from the door. Loud knocking, that made Thompson flinch slightly. The room was entirely too quiet...when no one was talking.

"Permission to enter, sir?" A gruff voice spoke from behind the door, muffled only slightly by the wood.

That was the voice of an old sailor if there ever was one.

"Granted," Admiral Richardson replied shortly.

The door creaked open, hinges squeaking as a short, grizzled man entered. His face bore several scars, and somehow managed to look even more gruff than Halsey. If anything, it was like someone had taken the stereotypical 'tough old sailor' and given it form. He was grizzled, grey hair sticking out from under a tattered cover. He wasn't particularly buff, but there was a measure of strength in the man's confident gait nonetheless. This was a man who had been there and done that, for years.

"Commander Jackson, reporting, Admiral," the man spoke again, his voice every bit as gruff as his expression. It was a good match for Halsey, honestly. Sharp grey eyes roamed the room as he spoke, seemingly only just noticing that it was more than one Admiral, leading the man to correct his statement. "Admirals."

Richardson nodded at the man, before turning his own eyes back on Thompson and Halsey. "Commander Jackson is the chief engineer over on Utah. Closest to an XO the old girl has. He has something quite interesting to report, I believe."

"Utah?" Thompson echoed, confusion lacing his tone. Short-lived confusion, as his eyes widened despite every urge he had not to show his reaction. Damn it...damn it...

Oh...shit. Did she...?

---

Sometime before the meeting between the Admirals, Utah walked the deck of her aging hull. The old battleship held her head high, as her heels clacked over her deck. Each step was carefully measured. Her feet paced along the old wood, a slight give in her step that was not there when she was younger. Much like the rest of her hull, her deck was aging fast. Such was the life of a target ship. At one point in time, she had been fine with this. But now?

Now, Utah felt her steps slowing. Her petite hand, unmarred by the repeat bombardments her hull was subjected to, clenched in her grey dress. The old battleship squeezed tightly, the fabric running over her fingers.

I...I sometimes wonder. Will I ever talk with anyone but Admiral Thompson or Admiral Halsey? And even then...

Even then, she was only able to talk with Admiral Halsey by virtue of Enterprise. Utah clenched her fist tighter, a spurt of anger running through her chest. The fiery feeling was quick to fade however, replaced by the empty feeling she was quite familiar with now. She couldn't stay angry at Little E. However much it pained the old battleship, to know that Enterprise had done what she had failed at.

It never got easier.

"I don't know how Arizona deals with this," Utah whispered, her voice soft as a feather. The battleship let her hand drop, as she resumed her pacing. None of her crew were on deck, small as her 'crew' was. It was merely her, and her alone. Nothing but the sound of her feet, and the activities of a major naval base. That said, even as she whispered that question, Utah had her answer. "Of course, she is perfectly fine with just Admiral Thompson."

It was enough to bring a small smile to the old battleship's face. Arizona had no idea what she was feeling, but Utah did. Oh, to be young.

Still, the smile faded just as her earlier anger. Utah truly did appreciate and value Admiral Thompson. He had done what no one had done, in her long service. Talk to her. Prove that she could talk, and not just be a silent observer. Not even her predecessors had known that, and at one point, Utah had felt special. Being among the first few who could talk with an Admiral.

Now?

Now, she just felt empty. Talking with people was nice. But she longed to talk with her own crew. Prove that she could talk with more than just a special Admiral from the future...or one who loved his ship like a daughter, in the case of Admiral Halsey.

"Nothing I do works," the old girl sighed, as she came to a halt. Her old barbette...where she came, when the melancholy overwhelmed her. This had once marked her as the most powerful battleship on Earth, or so she liked to think. Now, it was just a reminder that her time was coming to a close. Her second lease on life...the life of a target ship.

It would never last forever. She knew that, and Utah honestly believed that her daughters knew as well. They never said anything, but they probably knew. It was why her failures to communicate hit her so hard. The old battleship's time was limited, and if she couldn't make a breakthrough...she may never do so.

"Love. I haven't had a commander who loved me since the Great War..."

Sighing again, Utah leaned against her barbette. Her slender legs bent underneath her, as the battleship slid down the cool metal. Her dress hardly provided much resistance, as the rough and cold object brushed her back. The chill barely impacted her though, as her stern impacted the wood of her deck. Utah pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around the limbs. Her head was tucked into her knees, grey eyes looking out at the gentle waves lapping against her hull.

Looking, but not seeing. Her focus was internal. She barely felt her own heart beat, as she focused on her thoughts. Utah clenched her arms, trying to keep the depressing thoughts from overwhelming her, at least.

"I...I just wish someone could hear me. It...it does not matter who. Someone...anyone...please..."

Utah felt the burning in her eyes, long before she felt the wetness. But she felt both, as hot tears formed, her shoulders shaking. She would never let anyone see this side of her. Leave alone her daughters. But here, and now? She was alone. No one could see or hear her, as he old battleship let herself go. She needed to vent her feelings, somehow. Letting her tears out was as good a way as any, right?

I'm so weak. I should be stronger than this, for my daughters. For Admiral Thompson. For myself...

"Hey, who are you?"

At first, Utah assumed she was hearing things. Her sorrow-addled mind playing tricks on her. It wouldn't be the first time.

But...

This was different. The voice she had heard...the gruff, no-nonsense tone. That was not like her imaginings. No, that was a familiar voice for a much different reason. The old girl lifted her head from her knees, tear-streaks lining her cheeks. She made no effort to wipe them, or the tears still lingering in her grey eyes. Utah, instead, looked over her legs. A familiar face stared down at her, the grizzled features of her...chief engineer. Joe Jackson.

"Miss, I'm sorry to say, but you can't stay here. This is a warship, despite...her condition." Jackson's voice, still gruff, was less biting than it normally would be. He clearly thought she was a civilian. And he was holding back because of that. But...

"You can see me?" Utah's voice cracked, hope lining each and every syllable.

I...

Jackson frowned, looking down on the battleship. His sharp eyes roamed up and down, examining her closely. Utah didn't feel uncomfortable though. There was nothing lustful in that gaze, and even if there were, she found it hard to care. He could...he could see her!

"'Course I can Miss..." the gruff man, her XO, continued. Confusion was clear in his tone, as the old veteran looked over the battleship. He was clearly asking who she was.

"Utah. USS Utah."

The old engineer actually flinched back slightly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He reached a hand out, tapping Utah's leg. Like he was testing to see if she was really there.

Of course, all it did was make Utah gasp in shock and...well...happiness. Because his finger pushed against her leg, the feeling unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Utah had walkedthrough her crew, sometimes. That was like ice water down her spine. Jackson's poke, on the other hand, was warmth. Warmth unlike anything she had felt. Was this why Arizona was so happy to hug Admiral Thompson?

"Hm. You aren't any ghost, I can say that much," Jackson frowned deeply, the expression tugging on his scars and making him appear more formidable than usual. "'else I wouldn't be able to touch you. But...Utah?"

"I'm not lying, sir. I can tell you anything you need to convince you. Ask me any question you want!"

Utah was aware she was babbling. Her normally calm and motherly tone was gone, replaced by the excitable girl she once was, so many years ago. And could she be blamed for that? She wastalking with her XO. Not Admiral Thompson. Not Admiral Halsey. Her own crewmember!

"Hm. I'll hold ya to that," Jackson didn't dismiss her out of hand, as he continued to examine the old battleship carefully. He tapped his chin, attentive eyes locking on to Utah's own grey. "I heard the rumors from 'ole Johnny. Didn't think he was telling the truth, when he said Halsey ordered around the ghost of Big E. But...maybe there was some truth there. Prove it to me."

A smile crossed the battleship's face, as she set about doing just that. She hadn't made the breakthrough herself. It had been pure chance.

But she was talking with her XO, and that was all that mattered to her.

 

[theJMPer]

A little omake on everyone's favorite Nesei shipgirl!

Friscotime
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

USS San Fransisco—or as her crew called her 'Frisco'—stood on the bow of her own hull and let the warm Hawaiian air stream through her jet black hair. She wanted to be overjoyed. She was going to The Admiral's port. The Admiral who's name was spoken of in giddy whisperers passed around by shipgirls gossiping at their piers. The Admiral who not only treated his ships well, but who saw them. Talked with them, even—if the rumors were true—loved them.

Part of Frisco couldn't wait to see if the rumors were true. She wanted to introduce herself to The Speaking Admiral. She wanted to let him see her the way she really was, let him talk to her like she was a real person. Hell, she'd be happy just having someone to listen—really listen to. She couldn't imagine what it'd be like to talk to her crew, not just at them.

But part of her—most of her, really—hoped desperately that The Admiral wouldn't drop by. At least not for a while.

The cruiser wrung her ratty neckerchief in her hands. Her clothes were rumpled and stank from months of wear. Her neckerchief was stained though thoroughly with oil and paint the cruiser wasn't entirely sure what color it supposed to be any more.

She glanced over her shoulder at the sailors assembling along her rails. They looked so smart in those crisp uniforms, nothing like… well… Frisco scowled as she glanced down at the ragged hem of her top, her.

"I look good enough, right?" The cruiser smiled at one particularly handsome machinst's mate. She balanced her hands on her hips and put on the best smile her grubby face could manage.

For a second—just the briefest sliver of a second—she thought she saw a smile pass over the sailor's face, followed by a tiny wink. But no… no, it was just a stray gust of wind blowing in his face.

Frisco scowled, and promptly had her own hair blown into her face. "Well," Frisco tossed her hair back.

Or at least tried too. At this point, she was pretty sure she had more tangles and split ends than she had actual hair. It took her almost a solid minute of furious combat before her hair finally started to behave. She was suddenly very glad none of her crew could see her.

"I mean…" Frisco brushed one last strand of hair behind her ear. Her smooth Asian features glistened in a smile as she rested her arm against her own rail. "You all look smart enough for the lot of us, huh?"

The sailor didn't even blink this time.

"Thanks," Frisco lifted herself up on her toes and brought her lips close to the sailor's chiseled face. She couldn't actually kiss him after all. Even if she tried to lay her lips on his face, she'd just pass though him like a ghost. But a girl could always pretend after all.

It wasn't like she was suddenly going to be come visible just at the moment of maximum embarrassment. Right?

Frisco made a show of puckering up. She closed her eyes and kicked one leg up as she leaned in to the kiss. She couldn't make this more romantic—or more potentially embarrassing if she tried.

The cruiser held the kiss for almost a second before slowly opening her eyes. Not one of the assembled sailors even glanced at her. Darnit.

Whatever, she could come up with more plans latter. After all, she was going to Pearl. If anyone knew how to get their admiral's attention, it'd be Sara and Enterprise.

"Don't go anywhere without me, okay?" Frisco cast one last longing look at her machinsts' mate before bolting for her own mast. She closed her eyes and and let her… memory, for lack of a better word, guide her up the ladders and around crewmen standing watch.

Up the tripod she clambered, her hair streaming behind her like a shimmering, chaotic wake. She didn't stop moving until she was at the very top of her own mast.

And then she smiled. Pearl sprawled before her like a gem in the pacific. It was so… so… so full of life! She could just see the tiny dots of cars driving along the coastal roads.

She smiled as she passed a half-dozen destroyers napping in a puddle next to their beleaguered tender. Frisco tossed a happy wave, which the tender returned before going back to her duty of looking after her sleepy charges.

Everywhere Frisco looked, there was something new and exciting. The great battleship fleet lay at anchor off Battleship row. Frisco beamed as she saw the girls strolling along their hulls. They looked so prim and proper in their dresses! So ladylike!

And then…

Then there was her. The Admiral's ship. The ship she'd come so far to see.

Saratoga

Frisco was so excited she almost fell off her own mast. But she didn't. Because that would be silly. She just... enthusiastically... jumped off. Yeah. That.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Chapter 18:​

"Utah..."

Admiral Thompson frowned, as he walked up the gangplank to the old girl. There was the sound of pounding hammers and welding as repairs were made on her old hull. Unscheduled repairs. The young Admiral looked back over his shoulder, taking care to not trip as he reached the old girl's deck. Halsey raised an eyebrow at him, Richardson had a tight frown on his face as he looked at the repairs being done. And Commander Jackson was scanning the hulking form of the demilitarized battlewagon. If he really could hear Utah...

Well.

It wasn't hard to see why she was being repaired.

"Admiral?" A soft female voice spoke up, one that Thompson recognized quite well. His head twisted around, green eyes locking on to the girl. Long grey dress. Grey hair. A face that, while young, looked old all the same. USS Utah.

"Nice to see you, Utah." Thompson whispered, the sound of the work covering his voice up from Admiral Richardson. "Sorry I haven't visited before."

Utah shook her head, a weary smile crossing her pretty face, "No, that isn't a problem sir. I understand why you couldn't." The old girl sighed softly though, as she looked over at the other men. Halsey had locked eyes with her, but Richardson had made no sign he could see the girl. Utah turned back to the first Admiral at that, her petite shoulders shrugging slightly. "I'm not like Arizona or Enterprise. Visiting me is something that very few Admirals would ever do, and you did not need the attention."

"Maybe," the young man hardly denied the point, even though he still shook his head. "Still though, I'm sorry for what it's worth. Now, you've made the breakthrough?"

"Yes," and just like that, the age seemed to lift from Utah's shoulders. She stood straighter, a bright smile crossing her face, as the old battleship looked past Thompson and towards her XO. Jackson met her expression, tipping his cover down slightly as he talked with Admiral Richardson. Utah's smile widened at that, while she turned back to the time-traveler. "I'm quite happy about that, Admiral. Having Commander Jackson to talk to is...is..."

The battleship waved her hand, words failing her. The smile she shot the Admiral was clear enough on how she felt anyway. Thompson could hardly help the smile crossing his own face. With the war ever closer, seeing the girls happy was like a balm to the soul.

"Admiral Thompson," a voice speaking behind him had the Admiral flinching though.

Turning around, he saw Admiral Richardson giving him a flat look. The elder man had crossed his arms, staring Thompson down with a calculating eye. Flinching again, Thompson looked to Halsey, hoping for some support. The gruff Admiral just shook his head, a hint of an amused smirk crossing his face.

Traitor...

Mentally grumbling at the other Admiral, Thompson returned his attention to Richardson. Well, what to do now? He didn't have the slightest clue how to explain the situation. He hadn't thought he would need to.

Well, I...you see...it's like this... the Admiral shook his head, mentally slapping himself. Talking like that wouldn't help!

"Yes, sir?" Instead, he settled for simple, fighting the urge to hide behind Utah. For all the good that would do.

Richardson merely raised an eyebrow, uncrossing his arms. The older man tapped the railing by his side, an almost musical note ringing through the air. It only made Thompson flinch again.

"Rumors, Admiral," Richardson spoke, his voice low as he looked at the men running across Utah's deck. "Ever since Admiral Halsey ordered that ghost around..."

"Damn it," the Admiral in question grunted, holding up his hands as Richardson turned around. "I'll have that man reassigned to the middle of nowhere, James."

The older Admiral's lip twitched, but that was it before he turned back to Thompson, "Regardless. The rumor mill would have me believed that Enterprise is haunted, and that Bill can order her around. I would have assumed it was a joke. I've heard many in my time at sea, and that is not even the wildest. However."

"Utah did it to me." Jackson stepped forward at that, looking at Utah. A small smile crossed his gruff features as he did so, though it was only him smiling.

Utah herself was shuffling nervously, entirely unlike her normal calm-and-collected attitude. She looked at Admiral Thompson, an apologetic expression crossing her face. She knew what she had done had done harm, then.

Nothing for it though.

"And Commander Jackson reported to me immediately, to confirm he had not had a woman smuggle herself aboard his ship," Richardson continued, his eyes following Jackson's, though it was clear he could not see Utah. "Or, that he was not hallucinating. As of yet, I see no evidence that he is not."

Admiral Thompson bit his lip to keep from speaking. This wasn't Halsey. The man behind Richardson had already been approached by Enterprise first, and was at least somewhat open to the idea to start. The man loved his ship like a daughter. Though Thompson had to fight back a snort at the idea. Enterprise thought of him as a father, more than Halsey saw her as a daughter.

Still though, he sobered quickly enough.

Richardson had no such connection to any of the ships here. Hell, did he have that kind of connection to any ship? Thompson cursed his lack of knowledge there, clenching his fist by his side. He didn't know everything...and he really wished he did right about now. Nothing for it though. If he couldn't convince Richardson here, what could he...

"Furthermore." Richardson broke into his thoughts, the Admiral's eyes boring directly into Thompson. Like a hot knife through butter, that stare cut right through the younger man's defenses. He had never properly experienced The Glare before...

"Sir?" Thompson gulped, despite everything telling him not to.

"Utah told me that if I wanted to know more, to ask you, Admiral." Jackson answered, his voice somehow making it very clear what he felt about that. Yeah, this was a long-serving engineer alright.

And all it did was make Thompson palm his face, sighing into his hand. Well, this had gone belly up quickly. "Utah. Why?"

The battleship in question twitched, running a hand along some of her long hair, "I didn't know he would go to Admiral Richardson sir. I had thought he would do what Admiral Halsey did, instead."

"Well, that clearly didn't happen." Thompson grumbled, removing his hand to look at Richardson again. Squaring his shoulders, Thompson banished the worry from his mind. In for a penny, in for a pound. If he couldn't convince Richardson here, his career was over. His chance to save these girls was over. Everything was over.

He couldn't let that happen.

"Admiral, I will be completely honest with you. I'm sure you've heard sailors...engineers like Jackson here," Thompson waved his hand at the other man, who looked affronted at the insinuation. "They've always said that their ship is unique. I may be a carrier man, but I'm sure if you pick any two men off any two destroyers, they'd argue to hell and back their ship is unique and special. That she's better than her sister."

Richardson nodded, his lip twitching, "Yes, I have. I commanded old Augusta for two years, Admiral Thompson. I would argue she was different from Houston or Chicago, no matter the class. Where are you going with this?"

"Simple," the younger man brought his hand down on Utah's railing, making the battleship flinch and send him a small frown. He didn't notice though, all attention focused on Richardson. "Each ship is unique. Each and every warship ever built, has a spirit all her own. If you want to see her, you just have to...love her. Let her in."

At least Enterprise helped confirm that theory...

Thompson fell silent after he said his piece, warily watching Richardson to see what the other man would do. And at this point, all he got was a thoughtful expression, the elder Admiral pacing along the old deck. His footsteps were muffled by the noise of work on Utah, even when his feet carried him on planks that were cracked and ruined by age and target practice. Richardson paid that no mind, though, as he merely continued walking.

Sweat ran down Thompson's neck, as he waited for...for something. Hell, at this point he'd take being called crazy. This silence was getting to him!

"I won't argue your main point, Admiral Thompson," Richardson finally spoke, stopping his pacing long enough to take his glasses from his face. The Admiral rubbed them with the hem of his uniform collar, as he continued speaking. "Each and every ship is unique, I've known that from the moment I first stepped on Delaware and served as her engineer. But, the idea that they have a spirit is..."

"Unheard of?" Thompson tried, his voice cracking slightly.

"No," Richardson's words made the younger Admiral gape at him, as the elder man put his glasses back on his face. "No. I've heard some more superstitious men claim that their ship had a soul that watched out for them. Kept their ship intact longer than should have been possible. Warned them if there was something wrong with the boilers. Hell, I could swear that Delaware complained when we pushed her too hard."

It was too bad that Delaware was long gone then. Maybe that was a ship that might have worked?

"If you want me to believe that wasn't just superstition running rampant, you will have to prove it." Richardson finished, looking at Thompson with not even a hint of amusement in his face now. There was nothing but The Admiral. The man who would chew you up and spit you out without a moment's warning, if you did something to deserve it. Thompson felt like he was right back in basic, as Richardson spoke up one last time. "I don't care for the specifics. Prove it, and make it clear you are not imagining things."

Admiral Thompson clenched his fist, despite every instinct he had screaming that Richardson was not to be messed with. This man was his most potent supporter, until and unless Halsey proved himself again. He couldn't lose Richardson's support. But...but...

"Damn it, Admiral." Thompson got out, because really, his career was shot if he couldn't convince the man anyway. No point in holding back. "The only way to see one of these girls, is to love your ship and let them connect with you. I've always been fond of Sara. That let me see her, the one time she tried actually talking with me..."

Not true, but this was one case where lying was the only option.

"And now that I can see her, I can see all the other girls too. Same with Bill. He cares for Enterprise more than anyone else ever has, and that let him see her once she tried to talk to him," the Admiral frowned, his fist clenched so tightly it may draw blood. He didn't notice. "It's really that simple, but I don't know if you care enough about any of these..."

Biting back a sigh, Thompson unclenched his fist, running his hand through his short hair instead. This wasn't easy. He was taking a hell of a risk here. But he just didn't have time to convince Richardson the old-fashioned...

Hah, old-fashioned...it hadn't been that long.

Regardless, there just wasn't time to convince him the way Halsey had been convinced. Richardson could only be patient for so long. It was only so long before the rumors reached another Admiral. Willson, for example. And they would not be as forgiving, especially since Thompson couldn't rely on them supporting him just because he was a fellow Admiral. Hell, some of them may be happy to see the 'damn carrier man' gone. He had to have Richardson's support.

But damn it, it wasn't going to be that...

"Admiral?" Utah's soft voice spoke up, as the battleship's soft footsteps walked up to his side. Thompson turned his head, green eyes locking on the old battlewagon. Utah returned the look, brushing a lock of grey hair from her face as she did so. Her smile was small, but genuine, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've done enough sir. Let me try."

"Utah, he doesn't..." Thompson spoke up, uncaring if Richardson saw. It wasn't like he had a choice.

But the battleship just held a finger to his lips, shaking her head, "No, sir, he doesn't. But I have some experience with trying to talk to someone who isn't attached to me. I may have been ready to give up, until Joe could hear me. But I made progress." Stepping away from Thompson, Utah squared her shoulders. Her dress shifted around her hips, as the battleship walked over to Richardson. "If I can make progress, nearly have someone who has no care for me, hear me? I can make Admiral Richardson hear me as well!"

Utah shouted the last part, stopping right in front of Richardson. Who, for the first time, had his eyes widen slightly.

"What..." the Admiral blinked slowly, reaching a hand up to his ear.

"I told you," Utah sent a smile over her shoulder, winking at Thompson in a way entirely unlike what he remembered. "I almost got through to someone who had no reason to believe I was here. Admiral Richardson...he knows I should be here. Give me a day, and he will be able to see me. Just one day."

This confidence was entirely unlike what Thompson was used to. But...if Utah thought it would work, he would be perfectly willing to let her. He didn't see any other way to convince Admiral Richardson...and if this was what it took, so be it.

I hope she can pull it off...

---

Far, far away from sunny Hawaii, dark clouds hung over choppy seas. A warship's long, slim bow cut through the swells, drenching her crew in the salty sea spray. Drenching her in the salty spray, as the spirit of the ship stood on her prow. Bright blue eyes looked out at the water, scanning in a way none of her crew could. Her eyes. Her radar. She was looking, even though it couldn't possibly help her crew.

Still, she was the pride of the Royal Navy, and she would bloody well prove it this time. Shooting at defenseless allies...no. That would not be what HMS Hood was remembered for.

"Why are we out here...?" Hood breathed, the taste of saltwater on her tongue as her bow cleaved through a particularly rocky swell. Hood hardly noticed, though the lingering uncomfort of her many issues remained. Not least her boilers, struggling to maintain her speed through the rough seas. "Would the Jerries really try coming out in this?"

"Probably. You know they would use the storm as cover, almost got Glorious that way!" A cheerful voice rang in her ear.

Hood couldn't help a smile crossing her face, as blue eyes turned away from the dark clouds and towards her consort. HMS Repulse, her older...well, sister didn't quite fit. But in lieu of having her own sisters, Hood considered the elder girl at least as close as she would ever get. Repulse was cutting through the waves just as she was, easily keeping pace with her. Their speed shouldn't have been all that different.

But Repulse had been kept in much better shape than Hood.

"Perhaps," Hood shrugged her uniform-clad shoulders. And snapped her hand up, as a gust of wind nearly blew her tall hat off. Shaking her head in amusement that, Hood turned to look back at her comrade and the gaggle of destroyers escorting the pair. "Still, I don't know if we can catch anything in this soup."

Clearly, Hood couldn't see Repulse herself. But she could easily imagine the other girl shrugging as well, red hair flying out in the wind, "Eh, I'm sure if there's anything out there we'll catch them. 'sides, can't you just go to your Admiral and ask the wanker why we're out here?"

Unable to help it, Hood giggled softly, "You know he can't hear me."

"Well...yeah. But you could still try!" Repulse was probably pouting now, and the thought just made Hood giggle more.

Oh, times like this she liked being able to just...relax. Not think about what she had done, in the sunny Med.

"Well, I'll go at least try." Hood tugged her hat down, turning away from her bow.

"Good luck!" Repulse cheekily shot back.

Rolling her eyes, Hood stepped down from her prow. The wind and spray continued to batter away at her long hull, as the aching battlecruiser walked along her old deck. Her feet carried her surely and steadily, despite her hull rocking in the waves. She ducked around members of her crew, the young men grumbling irritably about being at general quarters in such horrible weather. Hood felt for them...she really did.

But, she couldn't do a thing about it.

And so, she instead ducked her head, her hat scraping along the bulkhead forming a doorway into her conning tower. Hood dodged around a harried man running out onto deck, as she mounted the stairs leading to her bridge. Long legs took the steps two at a time, as she quickly moved to her command station. Hood didn't really need to rush, honestly.

She wanted to know why they were out here almost as much as Repulse did, however.

"Any sign of the Jerries?" A male voice spoke up, as Hood ducked into her bridge.

"None yet, Admiral." Another replied, the sound of a plotting table being used echoing through the bridge. The clanking of wooden figures on other wooden figures was quite distinctive.

Hood frowned at that, as her bright blue eyes scanned her bridge. Low lights illuminated men hunched over instruments, as they worked. Her helmsman was clearly straining as he kept her on a straight and narrow path along their patrol route. Past them all though, was her current Admiral. Lancelot Holland was still somewhat unfamiliar to her, but Hood vastly preferred him to her old Admiral...the bastard who had forced her to hurt her former allies.

Pushing those painful thoughts aside, Hood instead focused on the present. On figuring out why the bloody hell they were out in the North Sea like this.

"Admiral...please tell me there's a reason we're out in this mess?" Hood spoke up, not really expecting an answer. And, she didn't get one. Oh, her shoulders did fall when that happened, but it wasn't something she hadn't expected.

Her Admiral completely ignored what she had said though, instead turning to her Captain. The two men leaned their heads together, whispering something. Hood could hear it...she could hear anything on her hull, if she were so inclined. But they clearly didn't want the rest of the bridge crew to know...

What was it?

"You sure this will work, Admiral?" Her Captain was asking, his voice worried.

Holland grimaced at that, brushing his hair back, "'Course not. But, bloody MI6 swears by this."

MI6?

Hood blinked slowly, as she heard that. The Secret Intelligence Service...what could they have to do with this?

"Maybe, but I don't like it sir. We're relying on intel from the spooks. Not even codes!" Her Captain clearly wasn't happy, as he crossed his arms over his chest. The man stuck his jaw out, daring Holland to disagree with him.

"And they swear that their source is one-hundred percent secure. I don't like it either, but if they say that those German battlecruisers are out here..." Holland, for his part, sighed. The man looked much older than he was, as his eyes turned to look out at the weather surrounding them. "Scharnhorst. Gneisenau. If we can catch those two, the Nazi's will be out their best ships."

Even as he said that, Hood was gaping. The German's only battlecruisers...if she could fight them, it might be enough to erase the stain on her honor from Mers-el-Kebir. And if not, it was at least a chance...to prove she was worth it. She was the Pride of the Royal Navy. And Hood wanted a chance...no. She needed a chance to prove this. She didn't much care for where the information had come from.

Only if it was accurate, and she would finally have the chance to prove herself as something other than a pretty show piece.

---

Funny story.

If you'll note, Glorious escaped being sunk. This is because of Blucher not sinking, making the invasion of Norway go faster...and leaving her out of position where she would have otherwise been. It has also caused a cascade of butterflies.

Hood, historically, was sent out on October 28 (remember, we're in the 20s of October right now) 1940 to intercept Admiral Scheer. Historically, of course, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were both laid up for repairs at this point. Why? Well, the former got torped by one of Glorious' escorting DDs. The latter also got a torp shoved up her skirt, when she was sortied to draw attention away from her big sister going back for repairs.

Clearly, neither happened here. So...

Fun times.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Chapter 19:​

The North Sea was, at the best of times, not a fun place to sail. This was why HMS Hood was rather less than fond of doing so. With her old hull battered by waves and her boilers straining to keep pace with Repulse, this was even more true than usual. The old battlecruiser grimaced as a particularly nasty swell crested over her bow, soaking her deck in salty water. She could feel each and every creak of her aging body. Her bones ached with each swell. And her eyes struggled to pick anything out in the distance.

Somewhere out there...were two German battlecruisers. She had been born too late to see the Imperial German battlecruisers that had fought her predecessors. That had sunk Invincible, Indefatigable, and Queen Mary. But now, it was her turn. Her turn to face Nazi German battlecruisers.

Bloody hell, I hope I fair better than they did.

That worry lurked in the back of her mind, as Hood turned her eyes from the sea, and to her crew. The same nervous energy that had filled them before...before the Med, was there again. Each and every man she could see was anxiously looking out at the horizon, save for her Admiral and Captain. Oh, they were doing the same, but there was no trace of the nervousness on their faces.

Merely grim determination.

"Nothing at all, sir." Her Captain spoke first, his voice soft and quiet. Certainly compared to the clap of waves hitting her bow.

"The Jerries are out here somewhere, I know it," Admiral Holland muttered, bringing his binoculars to his eyes. His hands didn't shake, as the somewhat young Admiral looked out at the horizon. Holland clicked his tongue, his head swiveling from window to window on her bridge. "Come on...show yourself."

"What if MI6 was wrong sir?" The Captain asked again, the distaste still clear as day in his voice.

Holland didn't remove his eyes from the binoculars, "Then they were wrong, and we'll miss our chance. That is not an excuse to not look."

"Yes sir..." Properly chastised, the younger man turned to use his own binoculars.

Hood couldn't blame him. She was leery of the supposed information herself, and why wouldn't she be? The Germans were maddeningly proficient at avoiding any and all attempts to catch them. Surely then, they couldn't...

"Admiral!" The battlecruiser stiffened, spinning on her heel. She ignored the lingering discomfort in her leg, the biting pain racing up her muscles. Hood's wide blue eyes were filled with shock and disbelief, her heart beating a rapid drumbeat in her chest. She could see everything her lookout could so.

"Smoke on the horizon!" And as the report from the lookout filtered down into the bridge, Admiral Holland dropped his binoculars. So too did her Captain, both men sending a look at the other.

"Report!" The Captain barked out, stomping forward to look out her bridge windows. His footsteps echoed even over the noise of men rushing to battlestations, while Hood herself moved to her Admiral.

Who had returned to using his binoculars, staring into the distance, where there was indeed smoke on the horizon. "Give me bloody details now. Distance, speed, angle of approach."

"Distance...20 kilometers. Speed estimated to be twenty knots."

Holland nodded, turning away long enough to bark an order out, "Get that to Repulse now. Suffolk and Belfast are to take up position on starboard, pursuant to German moves. We need their radar ready to direct fire. Destroyers move to form a screen."

As Admiral Holland barked out orders, Hood held a hand to the side of her head. She still didn't know where Repulse had picked up this trick, but she didn't much care either. What mattered now, as her crew ran to battlestations and her old hull started to turn to port, was that she needed to talk to the other battlecruiser. They couldn't talk to their crews, but Hood wanted to coordinate.

Wouldn't do for her to miss something would it?

"Repulse?" The old battlecruiser spoke, looking out at the form of her older counterpart.

"Reading you loud and clear Hood!" Repulse's cheerful voice replied.

Ordinarily, Hood would have smiled at the tone of voice. Right now, she was far more concerned with the situation as it sat. "Are you seeing anything from the Germans?"

"Nope, bloody Jerries don't seem to realize we're here." Repulse instantly replied. "Amateurs, their fathers were much better sailors! Wankers couldn't tell the end of a gun from the other..."

Hood shook her head, though a smile tugged at her lips, "Repulse..."

"Right right, I know. My lookout spotted them too. Looks like...those are the battlecruisers. A heavy cruiser too maybe...can't really tell from here. Might be one of those idiotic pocket battleships?"

Was it? The Germans may want to send their best out to fight, but those ships weren't fast enough...right? Hood would be the first to admit, annoying that it may be, that she had no idea on how fast they were. But the reports from Exeter after chasing down that one in the South Atlantic- her Admiral had received the reports -indicated they weren't. Not that she was particularly speedy herself, not any longer.

Wankers couldn't keep her fully repaired...

Shaking her head, Hood turned her eyes from Repulse and instead, focused on the Germans in the distance. Two battlecruisers. A cruiser. Compared to two old battlecruisers and two cruisers on her side. Even odds...in theory, at least.

Here we go...

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

As the two fleets rapidly approached one another, flashes of light shot from the escorts. Little E and F-class Royal Navy destroyers lobbed star shells into the muggy sky, brilliant white light shining over the battlefield. The much larger German destroyers, darting around their flagships, did much the same. With artificial light enveloping the sea, both fleets began to turn into battle formation. Repulse pulled ahead of Hood, the lean battlecruiser plowing through the roiling waves at flank speed. Her bow cut through the spray of seawater, swells pushed aside by the charging warship.

Hood followed, her aging and ill-maintained boilers struggling to keep pace. The mighty battlecruiser, largest of her kind ever built, struggled to push through the waves cresting over Repulse. But move she did, both British warships forming a battleline across the German formation's line of travel.

And both battlecruisers rotated their massive turrets, identical guns raising in their mounts. Guns that had never fired against her enemy in Hood, and guns that had last seen action in 1917 from Repulse. The old weapons still had more than enough bite however as the British gunners sighted in on their targets.

"Enemy in range, sir!" Hood's fire-control officer shouted out, an eagerness in his voice that had been lacking at Mers-el-Kebir. The young man looked out at the Germans...at the ships that would starve Britain if allowed out in the Atlantic.

Was it any wonder he was eager?

No. Not at all.

"Open fire at your discretion." The Mighty Hood's Captain had a grim smile on his own face, eyes welded to his binoculars. His eyes had never once left their steady watch over the German battlecruisers. Not once. And they wouldn't now, even while Hood's turrets finished rotating.

"Fire!"

That shout rang throughout the hull, from bridge to each of the old battlecruiser's turrets. Massive constructs of steel, each weighing nearly as much as a small warship in their own right. Gears grinded inside these turrets, creaking along ill-maintained barbettes. Even with the age of Hood, the weapons reached their firing position however. And inside these turrets, the smell of powder and steel was overwhelming. Men followed their orders and years of training, moving powder bags into the elevators. They grunted and groaned, sweating in the sweltering heat of the old barbettes.

But the men were motivated. This was their chance to prove that Mighty Hood could fight at last, and they would be damned before some bloody Jerry battlecruiser beat them to firing!

And so, powder and shell raced up the shell elevator and into the old turret. The gunners rammed first shell, and then powder, home. With a creak of old metal and gears, the guns moved from loading to firing position, even as the Hood's fire-control officers followed their order from Captain and Admiral. Within seconds of reaching the firing position, a massive roar echoed over the previously quiet North Sea.

Sheets of flame shot from Hood's powerful rifles, the fire and roar like the fist of an angry god. A staccato series of roars, each turret firing from bow to stern. The three identical emplacements on Repulse did the same, sixteen massive shells shooting at the German fleet in the distance.

A fleet that returned fire, the muted sound of their much smaller eleven-inch weapons reaching the British fleet before their fire did.

And here we are...

Through it all, Hood herself stood atop her sighting mast, watching silently as her guns barked in anger for the first- proper -time. Her tall hat fluttered in the afterblast, even as her eyes followed the shells. Massive spurts of water shot into the air around the lead German battlecruiser, shells bracketing but not hitting her. The return fire from the Germans did much the same, straddling Hood.

And Hood the ship girl had to hold on tightly to her mast, as Hood the ship turned sharply to throw off the aim of the German ships. She could feel her rudder shifting, grimacing at the resultant strain on her hull. With a great effort though, Hood pushed that discomfort aside, and instead looked out at the Germans. Even from the great- if lessening rapidly -distance, she could pick out details.

"Damn, the Jerries built a good ship..." The battlecruiser muttered darkly, as she felt her crew rushing to reload her guns. The feeling of shells rising up her hoists and her guns lowering to reloading position...never did change. The muscles in her arms twinged in sympathy, feeling the guns loaded. Ignoring it as best she could, Hood instead looked back to the Germans. "Bloody hell, that's more of a battleship than I am, other than those guns. Why would they...?"

Even as Hood asked that question, she felt more than heard the sharp clang of a shell impacting her belt. The battlecruiser doubled over, clutching at her stomach, already feeling a bruise forming. The pain rippled out from the point of impact, like fire through her veins. Gritting her teeth, Hood pulled up the hem of her uniform tunic, gingerly touching the bruise.

Angry purple skin greeted her, a red welt at the center. The moment her finger touched the wound, the battlecruiser couldn't hold back a groan of pain.

"Gah...bloody..."

Her guns returned fire as she said that, but Hood felt a feeling of worry lodge in her chest.

I thought their guns were weak...that nearly got through my belt!

The battlecruiser dropped her tunic down, the black fabric brushing painfully against her stomach. Pushing that down, she spun around, eyes focused on the tall mast behind her. Hood wrapped her arms around it, kicking off from her perch. Wind blew past her face, sending blonde hair flying, as she slid down the mast. Rough wood brushed against her arms, but she didn't even notice.

Nor did she notice her legs slamming into her deck, narrowly avoiding clipping one of her crew in the forehead, as the man ran with a message for her aft gunnery station. Hood grimaced as she watched him run, before she sprinted to the railing along the side of her hull. More fire from the Germans greeted her, sending sprays of water into the air, each hit getting closer and closer.

"Hood, be more careful!" Repulse's no-longer cheerful voice rang in her head, the battlecruiser doubling over as a shell bounced off her waterline belt again. "Those wankers have to...they have to have radar!"

"And I don't," Hood nodded, doing her best to not think about that fact or the lingering pain in her torso. "Repulse, you be careful too. I'm taking hits...it's not getting through but..."

"Hood...?" The older girl asked, her voice filled with worry.

"It's nearly getting through. If that's my belt, they'll have no issue getting through yours. Don't die on me!"

She hadn't been at Jutland, Hood knew that. But she knew the stories. And the last thing she wanted was to see what happened to those brave girls, her predecessors, happen to Repulse. Not on her watch, no sir!

Repulse, for her part, sounded subdued when she replied, "Got it. Neither of us is going to die here, don't worry!"

Forcing a nod, Hood turned her attention back to the Jerries. They had closed to sixteen thousand yards, close enough that Hood could see the lean lines of the battlecruisers. Sharp 'Atlantic Bows'. Three turrets like Repulse, but triple-mounted with eleven-inch guns far more powerful than they had any right to be. Squat and menacing looking superstructures. Raked back funnel.

There was none of the industrial elegance of Seydlitz or Derfflinger in these ships.

Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were warships, through and through. They were built in a nation dedicated to conflict and warfare, with the express intention of doing their duty and not looking pretty while doing it. The same could be said for the cruiser, a Hipper class, escorting them. All the German ships were brutal and squat, no elegance in their lines at all. And as fire flashed from their turrets again, Hood was forced to admit something despite all her Britannic pride.

These ships could fire faster than her.

The battlecruiser couldn't hold back a scream of pain, as a pair of shells from the lead German battlecruiser punched through her thinner upper belt, carving a gash through her side as it did so. Hood's hand fell to her side, coming away red. Firery pain shot through her, the girl slumping against her hull, even as she moved her hand back to hold down on the wound.

"I don't know if I will come out of this..."

Hood could barely muster the energy to smile, when her own guns roared to life again. Her shells arced through the sky, directly at the second German battlecruiser. Even from her position, and with pain running through her side like she had a knife twisting away at her, Hood could hear the sound. The sound of shells punching through armor, and of boiler pressure escaping. White steam shot from the German's funnel, as destroyers moved into position to cover her, smoke pouring from their own funnels.

It wasn't possible to know if it were her or Repulse who had landed that hit. Hood didn't care. She merely smiled, blue eyes unfocused. The pain was more than anything she had felt before. But she had hurt the Germans back.

"Well, guess the Jerries can't win after al..."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

"Hood!"

Repulse felt her heart stop. She had been in the process of a little jig, her short red skirt dancing around her hips. Her long blue jacket had been fluttering around her small bust, the battlecruiser overjoyed at the hit they had made on the German battlecruiser. The wanker had been hurt.

And in a single moment, all that joy had faded. Shells had flew from out of the forming smoke screen the Germans had put up, and arced right into Hood. The massive battlecruiser had visibly shuddered under the blows, her bridge taking the brunt of the impacts. When the resultant smoke had cleared...it was a horror show. Hood's bridge was a smoking mess, holes from one end to the other. Her funnels were belching sick black smoke, even as her superstructure burned. The battlecruiser...Mighty Hood...drifted out of the formation, as her crew struggled to regain control.

Through it all, fire from the German battlecruisers and singular cruiser continued. The crippled battlecruiser was their primary target now, fire on Repulse slacking up. The Germans wanted their prize then.

Well fuck that.

"Admiral, we can't let them sink Hood!" Repulse spun on her heel, all trace of levity gone from her expression.

She hadn't been at Jutland, no. But she could feel the fire of anger in her chest. Her boilers ran hot, Repulse stalking across her bridge. Her violet eyes looked out at the horizon, at the smoke the Germans had laid down. They thought it would keep them safe.

Not if she had anything to say about it!

"Hard a port," Her Captain seemed to agree. In more ways than one, his voice deadly calm. His eyes locked on Hood, the smoking battlecruiser continuing to fire despite the damage done to her. Despite German shells punching into her belt. The Captain didn't turn away, even as he gave out another order. "Keep in touch with Suffolk. Have her radar figure out where the Jerries are, then send the destroyers in."

"Sir?"

The young Captain finally turned away, his eyes sharp as flint as he looked at his XO, "Did I stutter?"

"No sir!" The even younger man snapped to attention, before rushing to get the message out.

Repulse's Captain only allowed himself to slump down slightly when the heavy cruiser to her side began moving. He held a hand to his head, brushing away sweat. The man looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, looking out at Hood.

"Bloody hell...Hood...we won't lose her. Have Fearless lay down a smoke screen of our own. Belfast is to take Hood in tow at her earliest convenience. We'll get the Germans away, then head home." The man looked out at his crew, daring a single one of them to disagree with him. No voices were raised in dissension, letting a small smile cross his face. "Good. Sinking them won't matter if we lose Hood doing it."

"Captain Harrington...are you sure about that?" Repulse couldn't help but ask, even though she knew there would be no answer.

And there wasn't, her Captain moving to the window of her bridge. His hands brought up binoculars, the man warily scanning the position of the German ships. He continued to do so, even as Repulse felt her old guns belch forth fire once again. Her own eyes tracked those shells, watching as they impacted in the smoke cloud, no sign of hits on the Germans.

Grinding her teeth at that, Repulse could only watch as the brave little destroyers shot forward at their best speed. The little warships zig-zagged as they charged, angling to avoid enemy fire. Their stacks belched thick black smoke, the little girl's pushing their boilers to the absolute limit, in the attempt to get in and out as quickly as possible.

And Repulse hated that she could only watch.

"I can't just sit here! I want to be out there with them!" Repulse complained, holding her hands by her side. Cheerful and carefree she may be, seeing what had happened to Hood had lit a fire under her. And being forced to watch and wait was getting to her, more than she would like. She was blind. Her crew was reliant on the destroyers forcing the Germans out, or on the radar guidance of a cruiser.

No ship liked being out of control like that.

"Destroyers report torpedoes away, sir." One of her crew broke in, his voice shattering the relative quiet of her bridge.

Harrington nodded, "Right. Have them pull back, and let's see how the Jerries flinch."

Repulse turned her own eyes back at those words, watching and waiting. She couldn't see the tracks of the torpedoes. Not in the roiling waves, the tracks lost in the swells. But then, if she couldn't see them...

"Hit!"

...then neither could the Germans! A plume of water shot into the air, right at the center of where the German formation had vanished behind their smoke. Smoke that the harsh North Sea winds were quickly dissipating, revealing the German formation.

A formation that had scattered, destroyers frantically attempting to dodge torpedoes. The solitary cruiser had pulled alongside the previously damaged battlecruiser, that warship listing to port. The other battlecruiser was making the best speed it could out of the combat area, her guns silent. Seeing this, Repulse couldn't help but grin. It was not the excited grin she had worn before however.

No. Now it was a grim and thin line across her face, at the sight of the listing battlecruiser. Her smaller compatriot, the Captain likely realizing he was exposed, ceased picking up crew and began to belch smoke all her own, racing to get moving. It was abundantly clear that one or more of the torpedoes had hit the battlecruiser. And coupled with the damage to her engines from the previous hits...

"Move forward!" Harrington barked out, his commanding voice echoing through Repulse's bridge. "We're taking that battlecruiser down. Flank speed gentlemen."

...well, Repulse wouldn't dispute the point. Abandoned by her comrades, the listing battlecruiser rotated her turrets, targeting Repulse now. But the range had closed. Her list further disrupted her firing solutions, leading to ragged fire that sent water into the air around the charging British warship...but didn't hit. Repulse's own turrets rotated in their mounts, while her cruiser escorts took the German under their own fire.

And as fifteen-inch shells lanced into the flank of the listing battlecruiser, the end was obvious.

Scratch one battlecruiser!

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

Indeed, two short hours later, there was nothing but floating debris and oil to mark the location of the German battlecruiser. Her comrades had long since fled, realizing they were overmatched despite the damage to Hood. Damage that had left her under tow by Repulse, her battered crew working to keep Hood afloat. But there was no getting around the situation...the Germans had lost a precious battlecruiser. But they had mauled the Mighty Hood in exchange, the old girl shot to pieces. Repulse couldn't even begin to guess how long her younger counterpart would need to be in the docks now.

But.

At least Hood was intact. More than could be said for the German.

"Admiral Lütjens?" Harrington asked, breaking into Repulse's thoughts.

"Ja." A German officer, sharply dressed despite the water and oil clinging to his uniform, nodded. "You have my gratitude for rescuing as much of my crew as you were able."

"We may be enemies, but we're both sailors, first and foremost." Harrington shook his head, though his eyes drifted to Hood. "I'd like to think you would have done the same."

Lütjens' smiled, ever so slightly, "Within my power. However, that was not to be."

As he said that, the German Admiral reached to his belt, pulling free a small dirk. It had yet to be taken from him, the ceremonial nature of the blade clear. Repulse may not have understood everything about naval protocol.

But she knew that much.

It's the right of an officer to surrender his sword to his captor. Or, in this case, his dirk.

The battlecruiser watched, as her own Captain took the weapon from the German. His hand wrapped around the blade, before bringing it up to his eyes. Harrington's eyebrow rose when he did so, before the man turned the blade over and looked at Lütjens. Where before there had been nothing but the courtesy shown a fellow officer...there was now respect in the British man's eyes.

"Kaiserliche Marine?" Harrington asked softly.

Lütjens nodded, his eyes shadowed despite the lack of a cap on his head, "Ja. I refuse to wear a weapon marked with the Swastika. I will gladly continue to wear my Kaiserliche Marine weapon, so long as I serve."

There was silence on the bridge at that statement. Harrington and Lütjens stared at one another, until the former gently placed the old dirk down on the plotting table. His free hand came up, held out to the German. Lütjens blinked slowly, raising his own hand carefully. Harrington took it in his grip, shaking it.

"I daresay, you are one of the good ones." The Brit didn't smile, but there was no hostility in his face. "I'll do what I can to see you're treated well, back home."

"Ensure my crew is safe, first." Lütjens was quick to reply, but the genuine thanks was clear in both face and tone.

Repulse didn't know how it had come to this. Politics went over her head. But...she would follow her Captain. She still felt anger at what had been done to Hood...but she would never go against what her Captain said. And in this case?

Well, she would tolerate having a Jerry Admiral aboard, until they got poor Hood home.

---

---

"I don't know what to do."

Far away, aboard USS Saratoga, James Thompson fell against his cot. His uniform jacket was discarded, haphazardly draped over the chair at his desk. Green eyes stared up at the cold ceiling. They were unfocused, the Admiral draping a hand over his forehead. A heavy sigh came from his lips.

"Admiral, are you alright?" Sara herself stood by his side, her soft voice honestly confused. The carrier tilted her head to the side, bright eyes staring down on the older man.

Thompson sighed again, moving his arm enough to stare up at his oldest friend, "I wish I could say yes, but no, I'm not. I never expected this to happen."

"Utah made a mistake sir," Sara didn't dispute the point, gently sitting down next to her Admiral. Concerned eyes stared at the man, as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "But we've planned how to work with that, right? We just need to..."

"That's the thing. I was there. I should have tried something we've talked over with Halsey, but..." Thompson dropped his arm over his eyes again, his voice weary, as he continued speaking. "We didn't. I blanked out entirely, and if Utah hadn't suggested trying herself, I don't know what I would have done."

There was silence following that statement. Sara frowned in clear confusion, while Thompson sighed again. He had been...blindsided, yes. He hadn't expected Utah making a breakthrough. Or that if she had, that the one she talked to would go right to Richardson. All the plans he had made relied on convincing a large enough group of people first and then going to the Admiral. That way Richardson would be more likely to believe them, since a dozen or more men seeing the girls was better than two, no matter whom those two were.

But instead, here he was.

Relying on Utah's efforts, in the hopes she could convince Richardson to hear her. When there were any number of things he could have done. Hell, he could have just had Utah pick him up! But...it hadn't occurred to him.

It's getting to me...I hate to admit that...but...

"Sir, we talked about ideas. Why didn't you use them?" Sara finally asked, placing a hand on Thompson's arm. "Surely you or Captain Halsey could have come up with something, right?"

"We've had plenty of ideas." Thompson didn't deny that, how could he? "But, I blanked out. I've been thinking in terms of convincing someone like Halsey, Sara. Someone who already was willing to believe something was going on, or had their girl talking to them on some level. I hadn't thought of someone who..."

Sara frowned softly, as she stared at her Admiral, "Who didn't have that advantage? But wouldn't Utah doing something to you still work?"

And that was the crux of the issue, wasn't it?

"Yeah...yeah, it probably would have." The young Admiral ran a hand through his hair, the black strands moving along his fingers. Nearly too long for regulations, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that right now. "Even though Richardson has no reason to believe it."

"Then why didn't you..." Sara began, only for Thompson to cut her off.

By placing a hand on Sara's hand, shaking his head slowly. His hand shook as well, though he tried to hide it. That didn't work of course. Sara was nothing if not perceptive, looking down at the hand, and back up at her Admiral. Her frown deepened further, the carrier gently squeezing Thompson's hand, concern for him in her eyes.

The Admiral noticed that too, sighing deeply, "Because it didn't occur to me. All this work we've done together? And not one idea came to mind when I actually needed it."

"But..."

"Sara." Thompson gently cut her off, his voice weary and tired. "I...this isn't easy to explain. It isn't easy for me to say. But do you want to know something?"

The carrier nodded slowly, "Admiral...is something wrong? Is it anything I can help with?"

At that statement, Thompson smiled. He leaned back against his bed as he did so, but a genuinely thankful smile crossed his face nonetheless. Even as it came, it faded though. The Admiral looked up at the ceiling of his room, his voice echoing through the room. Monotone in nature and nothing like his normal manner of speech. But...this was a deeply personal subject. One he hadn't wanted to lay on Sara.

Even though it was only having her there, that kept him from being overwhelmed by it.

"You've noticed how young I am, right?" Thompson answered Sara's question with one of his own, looking down at their joined hands.

Sara could only nod, "I have. Captain Halsey was older than you when he was my Captain...I've never had an Admiral as young as you are sir."

"That's because, by all rights, I should be a Captain." Thompson laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. No, nothing but bitterness and weariness. "When this whole thing started, that's what I was. Captain of the Stehem, an old destroyer out of Yokosuka. I was the one in charge of DesRon15 too, seven destroyers. But I was no Admiral."

His hand clenched down on Sara's when the man said that. Thompson felt old memories come to the forefront of his mind, as he screwed his eyes shut. Painful...painful memories, that he tried not to think of often. The entire reason he was an Admiral in the first place.

"Until the Abyssals came. I never fought them when I was on Stehem," the Admiral shook his head wearily. No, he had never fought the Abyssals directly like that. But, that wasn't the point of his story. "But they started from the start, to target flag officers. I think they wanted to decapitate our leadership, and that they did well. Most of the Admirals were killed in the opening days of the war. Navy had to promote people up to make up for the losses, and I had...well. I had met you, and the other ship girls assigned to Japan. I worked well with you all, so I ended up taken off my old post, and rushed into service as an Admiral."

That was condensing the story down. There was a lot more to it...but again, that wasn't the point. He would tell Sara the full story later. Right now...

"Sir," Sara broke in, her tone soft as the grip on his hand. "You didn't get any training? Is that the problem?"

Thompson shook his head again, "No. I mean, it is now, but it wasn't then. And that's why I told you how I was rushed up the ranks...I know how young I am. I...wouldn't have called myself fit to be a proper Admiral, not yet." The young man snorted softly, looking over at his uniform jacket, the stars prominent on the uniform. "When I was commanding you girls, it was just you girls and support staff. Maybe thirty ship girls at any given time, and maybe a few hundred support staff. I went to that, from commanding about two thousand men in my DesRon."

When he spoke the number, Sara's eyes widened. The carrier looked past her Admiral, and instead, at her hull. Much as some things changed, Thompson reflected, some others didn't. Saratoga had always been a quick one, and she clearly understood what he was talking about. Better than others may have, in all honesty. He was thankful for that...for damn sure.

"I may not be in direct command of your...our...crew, Sara." Thompson whispered, his voice soft and quiet. "But there's more men on just you than I've ever commanded before. Lex doubles that. And then we have the escorts. I...I've never commanded this many men. I've never commanded this many ships. Not like this, when I've got to worry about Captains questioning my orders."

"None of them would!" Sara was quick to deny, shaking her head. Blue hair moved with the movement, her green eyes daring Thompson to dispute the point. "Admiral, everyone respects you. All you've done to..."

"Sara."

The one word held a great weight. A weight that clearly weighed down on Thompson, the man slumped against his bed. He looked twice his age in that moment, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had hid this well. The Admiral hadn't wanted to worry Sara, or Ari, or Enterprise. He hadn't wanted to worry anyone, and it was why he took everything on himself. Perhaps, too much on his own shoulders. He could see that now, even if he hadn't before.

It was why Utah had blindsided him like she had.

He was working himself to the bone, and...and...

"I have to worry that I'll do something wrong. I have to command more men and ships than I know what to do with sometimes, and I have to do it without the benefit of technology I grew up with." Thompson laughed again, the sound bitter. "Every time I think about contacting Lex's Captain, my first thought is 'where's the video system'. Or why I can't use a computer, and figure out something I may be missing. I have to rely on things that were antiques before I was born. I..."

Thompson shook his head, clenching down on the bedding beneath him. The Admiral took in a steadying breath, before continuing to speak.

"Every time I speak with anyone but you and the girls, I have to watch what I say. Do you know what about a century worth of pop culture does? I have to watch every single word I say, or I'll talk about something that doesn't even exist yet. Or use some sort of colloquialism that won't be invented for decades." The man frowned, looking out the porthole over his head. "On top of that, I don't even know half of what people talk about around me. Culture goes over my head. What's popular now is something I haven't even heard of before. If I slip up, being called crazy is the least of my worries."

"Admiral..." Sara's voice was filled with nothing but concern, as she tried to reach forward. Thompson moved out of her grip, shaking his head. Sara frowned at that, but she didn't press the point. "You don't know what to do half the time, and are worried you'll mess up something? Right?"

"That," Thompson nodded unhappily, his eyes downcast and tired. "And it's just one thing. I have to keep track of events, and try to make sure I remember things properly. I'm the only one who knows what's coming you know, and I have to prepare however I can. That means coming up with tactics. And just like with culture, if I'm not careful, I'll mess up. I'll try to introduce too many things too quickly, and we know what that would do."

Sara winced, despite herself, "You may be removed from your post, because the other Admirals...they won't like it. Admiral..."

"On top of that, until just a couple weeks ago, I was the only one who could talk with you girls. I love being able to do that. Believe me, I do. But...when everyone from you to Utah to the destroyers wants to talk to me, and I have to work with you all...prepare you for what is coming..." Thompson wiped at his face, sweat coming away in a sheen on his hand. His voice shook slightly, as he continued speaking. "The pressure, Sara. It's...sometimes it's too much. I was the only one you all could talk to. I had to try and divide my attention between everything else, and coming up with a way to get you all to talk with your admirals. Halsey has helped, but there hasn't been enough time..."

Here, the man shook his head again. His hands shook. Hell, his whole body shook. This was something he hadn't wanted to admit to. The pressure...he had been fine keeping it all on his own shoulders. Not putting it on anyone else. But now, it had made him make a mistake. How many others had he made? Or would he make?

"That's the reason, I think, that the plans we made for this fell out of place." Thompson sighed one last time, his head lolling back against his bedding. "Everything...I've been pushing myself so hard, that I finally just...couldn't take it. My mind gave out on me, and I panicked. I damn well panicked, and couldn't think of the plans we'd made. Utah gave me a way out, and I took it. Even though I should have used one of our plans. I'm...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have panicked."

Silence returned upon that statement, not a word spoken. Not a movement made. Thompson merely lay against his bed, wondering if he had made other mistakes. He could surely have done more. He could have put down more tactics, had Thach or Halsey help him. He could have suggested the plans he had made with Halsey and Enterprise to the other girls. Maybe then Utah wouldn't have, for all intents and purposes, made a random breakthrough alone.

And maybe if he had done that, he wouldn't have panicked. Richardson would have had more evidence, and they wouldn't be relying on Utah like this. Wouldn't that have worked better?

But because he had pushed himself to the breaking point, he hadn't. Because he couldn't accept help and tried to do everything himself, he was caught in this situation. Damn it...why couldn't he just...

"Admiral," Sara's soft voice spoke up again. The carrier stared at him with deep green eyes, leaning forward. Thompson frowned at the intense look on her face, even as Sara's long hair hung between them. He lay on his back, and she lay above him, staring down on her Admiral. Sara sighed softly, moving a hand to brush at the Admiral's face. "You've been working so hard, and you never asked for help. I...I know I'm not as much help as I should be. I can only be here to talk to you, really. But, if that's all I can do, I want to do it."

Thompson felt his face heating up, his tired mind realizing the position they were in. But...he didn't move. No, he couldn't move. Because Sara, not the confident Sara he remembered but the worry-filled one he had, didn't realize something.

"Sara, you've done more than anyone." Thompson whispered, his own hand brushing a strand of blue hair from her face. "I'm fairly confident I would have gone crazy a long time ago, without you."

His old joking tone was back, making the carrier smile. But Thompson was being deathly serious.

"You're my rock, if you want to call it that. Whenever I've been pushed, I can always rely on you being there to lean on. A shoulder to rest on, when I need it. I...I need that, more than I would like to admit."

Sara's smile turned distinctly watery, as she fell down. Her arms wrapped around Thompson, hugging the man tightly. "Admiral...I don't know what to say. But...I can say this. I'll always be here if you need me. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be there. Just...don't push me away? Don't try doing...doing everything on your own again. Please."

Thompson smiled softly himself, returning the hug, "I won't. After what happened...I'll probably be going to you more often. I can't do everything on my own, so having you there to help is..."

"I'll do everything I can." Sara cut him off, squeezing tighter.

It wasn't painful though, as the Admiral nodded his head, "And I'll do my best to not do everything myself."

As the two lay there, Thompson felt...felt like a weight had left his shoulders. His task still seemed impossible. But maybe...maybe a bit less than it had before.

---

This one fought me. I had to do so much research...

Suffice to say, I hadn't intended to go so long or make the chapter so long. But hopefully everything worked out in the end. I'm unsure on the naval battle, but that's the first time I've written one. With all that implies.

Hopefully it worked out.

Also:

I've been vague on why Thompson didn't go with the various plans suggested for Utah, with good reason. The above scene was one I've been planning for a long time.

You know something? Every time someone would say 'Thompson should do this' or 'Thompson should know this' or 'he should totally have done more or planned this obvious thing' I've been adding on this segment. Because everything said in here? Tactics? Work on the seeing the girls?

It's come to mind for him.

Now think about that for a second. He's one man, tossed about a century or so into the past (not quite, but close enough to not matter). He has to try coming up with tactics that are half-remembered at best- Thompson was a destroyer man, prior to getting assigned the ship girls. Put these into practice, without raising suspicion. Do it despite having no access to technology he took for granted, and the need to avoid saying things that he shouldn't say.

On top of that, being the only one the ship girls could go to, prior to Halsey. Having to then come up with ways for them to talk with each other. On top of having to learn how to Admiral, in 1940, while also putting the tactics into play.

Frankly, I think it's a miracle the man isn't a gibbering mess.

Thus, why I've been working on this segment for so long.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Not only did I get an Indy Double Feature up, I also have an update for Destiny! A long-ish one too, if not as long as the last one. Lot happening, and more Little E/Halsey too!

Chapter 20:
​

William "Bull" Halsey was not a man inclined to patience. He knew what people said about him when they thought he didn't hear of course. That he was a hardass who was constantly abrasive and pushing forward on whatever he felt needed, and 'damn the torpedoes'. He wouldn't deny that point. Hell, he embraced it. And why shouldn't he? Hit Hard, Hit Fast, Hit Often. It was a strategy he was growing ever more fond of, especially now. But he couldn't do a damn thing with that, because he was stuck waiting aboard Enterprise.

"Admiral...?"

And on that note, he would never get used to seeing Enterprise herself. Halsey's sharp eyes ranged over the tiny little girl, as she stood ramrod straight. Halsey felt his lips twitch slightly upward at that, though he didn't show it.

"Yes, Enterprise?" His gruff voice spoke up, hiding any other emotions he may have been feeling.

"Are you alright with all of this?" The carrier asked softly, shuffling slightly under his stern gaze. No one that Halsey had met stayed completely still under that gaze. Not Thompson, and not Enterprise. "I mean, what if they...what if they take you away from me?"

Now, for all that he was a self-proclaimed bastard, Halsey was not blind or incapable of empathy. The man had raised a son and a daughter once before, and that stayed with someone.

"You worry too much." Halsey grunted, shaking his head. A rough hand was placed on Enterprise's shoulder, the carrier looking even smaller than usual. "They'll have to tear me away from you."

"Admiral..." Enterprise went redder than her eyes, looking between the man's face and his hand.

For his part, Halsey just sighed. If one was being honest, which frankly he always was- lying was a pointless waste of time when brutal honesty worked much better -the man was intenselyuncomfortable with this entire situation. He loved Enterprise like his own daughter when he had felt she was just a ship. A special one granted, but just a ship. Now? Well, goddamn it, it wasn't that simple anymore.

Because Enterprise was now a little girl, looking small and out-of-place in that uniform of her's. A little girl who idolized him, and he would have to take into battle if Thompson and Richardson were right about the damn Japs.

So yes, he was uncomfortable. No shame in admitting that.

"Like hell I'd let someone else take you out to war, Enterprise." The Admiral continued speaking, squeezing the girl's slim shoulder lightly. "I wouldn't trust anyone with you, not now."

Now, Bull Halsey had expected Enterprise to react to that. She always did, acting every bit the age she looked. Better than the age she was, of course, since the carrier was barely four years old.

Regardless of that, he expected her to act like any kid her age would. Smile and blush, pulling away from him and shuffling her feet. It was how his daughter would have acted. Hell, she had acted that way, when he threatened to hurt anyone who put a hand on her. Halsey could be quite scary, when the man was inclined to do so. And he genuinely expected that, as any girl would act, Enterprise would just smile up at him. It was proper conduct for a little lady.

So to say he was shocked when she, instead, jumped up and wrapped her arms around his broad torso?

Goddamn it. This again.

Would be an understatement.

"Thank you sir." Enterprise whispered against Halsey's chest. Hot tears wet his uniform, as the little carrier cried against him. "Thank you..."

Halsey sighed heavily at that, patting Enterprise's short blonde hair. The girl only burrowed deeper into her hug when he did so, giving no signs that she would let go anytime soon. Well. This wasn't a problem at all.

"You're my girl, Enterprise. And I'll be damned before I let some kid take you out instead of me," Halsey's voice didn't change tone, though he didn't look at the girl as she said that. He let out another, almost imperceptible, sigh though. "In any case, I'll sooner fight to stay aboard you than give up. Never surrender. That's what I do."

Enterprise finally pulled back at that, looking up with tear-streaked red eyes, "You mean that?"

"Of course. I'm no liar." The Admiral didn't have his lips twitch up when Enterprise smiled brightly at him. No, not at all. "You're my girl, my carrier. And that means I'll fight for you. Sure James would do the same for Sara."

At that, the little blonde girl laughed, the sound like a chime in the wind. Heartfelt and musical, nothing like the tone of voice she had been using. "Oh, that's very true Admiral! Aunt Sara wouldn't let him leave, even if he tried."

That was another thing Bull Halsey wasn't used to. Enterprise continued to refer to Lady Lex and Sister Sara as 'Aunt' Lex and Sara. Furthermore, she swore up and down that old Langely was her 'mother'. Strange as that was, it was even stranger that Utah apparently acted as the mother figure for the battleships. When Thompson had told him that, Halsey had stared at the man for long minutes. He got the feeling that the younger- almost absurdly young -Admiral had been worried at that.

This aside, thinking on that made the Admiral frown deeply again. He clenched a fist, looking down at his side. Utah.

"Someone needs to do something about Utah. Damn girl got us in this situation." Halsey's frown didn't deter Enterprise from hanging onto his torso, but it did make her wince.

There was where the problem was, wasn't it? Utah. Thompson had said it was likely that any girl who managed to inadvertently make contact would be very careful and make sure that their joint superior didn't find out until more evidence was around. Instead, Utah had managed to get her XO going straight to Admiral Richardson. And thus, the situation they found themselves in now.

He was stuck aboard Enterprise, practically confined to his flagship until Richardson was satisfied that he, Thompson and Jackson weren't completely insane or having a mass hallucination. And it was down to Utah to convince him.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

If there was anything Halsey hated more than being forced to sit in one place, it was relying on someone else.

"I'm sure Utah can figure it out," Enterprise tried to be positive, her smile remaining bright. The girl was always positive, in some way. Perpetually cheerful that one. "She's smart, Admiral. I may not have been involved in all this as long..."

"Don't remind me. James should have known better than going behind everyone's back as long as he did." Halsey groused, though there was little real bite to his words. Hell, if it hadn't been for Enterprise almost getting through to him first, he would have been the first to call the younger man crazy.

"...but she got really close with people who didn't have any reason to think she was there. Or care about her." The young carrier pouted slightly at the tone Halsey had used, though she hardly let go of him. "If anyone can get through to Admiral Richardson, it's her."

Halsey just shook his head, pulling himself free. The warmth of Enterprise's hug faded away, the carrier looking up at him in confusion. The Admiral didn't return the look, instead looking out the porthole of his office. Oh, she may be willing to rely on Utah. But he wasn't by any definition.

"I hate relying on Utah." The Admiral spoke, his voice low as he looked out the porthole. "I hate relying on anyone, in a situation like this. I would rather do what needs to be done myself."

That was a criminal understatement. Being forced to wait and not be able to do anything was grating on Halsey in a way few things did. He wanted to do something. Sitting aboard Enterprise, cut-off from any actions, annoyed the shit out of him. So, then, what could he do to fix that? He couldn't leave and march over to Utah. But on the other hand...

Maybe. It was a risk, but hell, Bull Halsey was the type of man to take a risk and dive head first into it if he thought it would work. Hell, even if it may not look like it would work to begin with.

"Enterprise." He turned around, voice shifting into a 'commanding' tone.

"Yes sir?" For her part, the carrier snapped to attention, her little shoulders straight and narrow.

Lips twitching despite himself, the Admiral walked up to his girl, "First, stop acting like that sailor. You are well aware I won't stand on protocol in this situation."

Enterprise flushed again, shifting slightly, but not dropping from her position.

"Second, it's time we got to work."

Even as he said that, Halsey saw Enterprise's eyes widen. The girl blinked up at him, confusion clear in her pose and expression. Honest confusion, as she clearly didn't know what he was talking about. In any other situation, he would have barked at her to focus...no matter how young she looked, she was a United States Navy sailor, and he wouldn't let her fail at that.

But right now? No, he wouldn't push her.

"What do you mean, Admiral?" Enterprise warily asked, her voice just as filled with confusion as everything else.

Halsey just continued speaking in the same tone he had before, "We're going to get moving. If Utah can convince Admiral Richardson, good. If she can't, I'll be damned if I don't find another way. You still have the connection with the other ships, correct?"

"Of course...?"

"Good," the older man's face twisted into a lopsided smile. A small one, but one nonetheless. "Which girls are the closest other than Utah?"

Snapping her heels together again, Enterprise started reciting names. Doing so in proper military style, her voice sounding as close to his own as she could probably manage. "California and si...Yorktown, of the capital ships. Honolulu and Drayton for cruiser's and destroyers."

A nod, "And how close are they?"

Enterprise frowned slightly, deep in thought. Halsey waited for her to think, but if he didn't get an answer quickly...

"I think California is the closest, Admiral," Enterprise finally spoke up again. Her red eyes stared up at him, the disconcerting stare something that Halsey was well used to by now. Strange as that may sound. "She's been talking with Admiral Thompson since the start."

"Then we'll start with her." Halsey nodded sharply, pointing at Enterprise's head. "Get her on the radio."

"Sir..." The carrier didn't do that, instead squaring her shoulders and staring up at Halsey. Her arms shook, but the carrier didn't turn her eyes. Enterprise continued to stare, no matter how uncomfortable she looked. "You're planning on having us make more breakthroughs."

It wasn't a question, so much as a statement. Enterprise didn't back down from said statement either, nor did she back down from her position. Halsey raised a single eyebrow at that, his rough features not revealing anything about what he felt.

Pride.

"Yes, I am. Is there a problem with that, sailor?" Instead, the Admiral turned an actual question back on his carrier.

Enterprise didn't flinch, though the shaking did grow slightly stronger, "Si...r. Yes sir. How do we know that Cali's Captain won't do the same as Commander Jackson? Or Honolulu's? Or Drayton's? Or even Fr..."

Halsey held a hand up, "Direct orders to tell their officers to gather proof before doing anything."

"What proof?" Enterprise countered, voice cracking slightly.

Good, she's asking questions. She's learning.

Not showing that on his face, Halsey scowled at the carrier, "The fact that more officers are seeing you girls for one. Second, that the more ways contact is made, the more evidence there is. Third, that if one of these girls figures out a way to contact more than one person, then it becomes much harder to brush away..."

The Admiral didn't list anything else, but the implication was clear. The more people involved, the harder it was to pass off as hallucinations or something of that nature. Moreover, the more people involved, the more minds thinking of ways to spread the situation. Every single person who saw one of the girls, was an advantage. Every single person provided a different viewpoint. Every...well, the point is clear.

And Enterprise seemed to understand that, her shoulders finally slumping down. The carrier gulped down a deep breath, her body shaking slightly. Sweat ran down her brow. But...she didn't back down. Despite everything.

"Sorr..." Enterprise began, voice soft as she looked up at her Admiral.

Halsey was having none of that, placing a hand on her shoulder, "No."

"Sir?"

Confusion was in the carrier's voice again, as she looked between the hand and the Admiral's gruff features. Features that twisted into an ever so slight smile.

"You shouldn't apologize, and I know what you're trying to apologize for," Halsey continued, his hand squeezing the girl's shoulder. "I welcome it when my decisions are questioned by someone who may know better, and you know the other girls far better than I ever will Enterprise. Goddamn, I mean, you've got a different perspective on any situation, so if you argue something I'm planning, it means I should listen."

Not that he would always take any advice of course. Halsey was far too bullheaded for that.

"I'm proud that you actually stood up and argued your point. Don't lose that, no matter who commands you."

Giving Enterprise another soft squeeze, Halsey turned, and began gathering papers, the notes that he and Thompson had taken on convincing officers or sailors what they were seeing wasn't fake. Or how to get the girl's to breakthrough. Regardless, he needed to dig through these before trying to talk to California and the others. Better to be prepared, than charge in half-cocked. Even he knew that. Hell, Halsey knew it better than most, considering failing would mean losing Enterprise. Something he had no desire to do.

Especially as his sharp ears picked out a whisper behind him.

"Thank you...father..."

---

"Thank you, Sara."

Admiral Thompson smiled at the carrier, genuine thanks in his eyes as he worked through papers scattered across his bed. Sara flushed lightly at that, watching him do his work. Ever since the previous night, he had been...if not okay, at least better. She had never really noticed before, how ragged her Admiral was running himself. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his shockingly youthful- she had known he was too young to be an Admiral, but it hadn't struck her before how young he was...a Captain jumped up in rank indeed -face was lined with stress. Thompson carried himself with a massive weight on his shoulders, bowing him down.

Sara felt horrible that she hadn't noticed that before. Yes, she wasn't used to telling how normal people felt. But...still. It was her job, first and foremost, to help her Admiral.

And she hadn't even realized he was working himself to the bone.

"Are you sure you're alright, Admiral?" The carrier asked, her soft voice carrying through the small room. She rubbed her hand over a lock of blue hair, nervousness present in her actions and voice.

"I'm tota..." Thompson trailed off, before sighing and standing up fully. He ran a hand through his own hair, turning to look at Sara. Weary green eyes were over a sardonic smile, the man shrugging slightly. "Well, I'm as fine as I'll ever be. I think being able to just...talk...about what I'm going through helped a lot. Same with knowing you're there to help me, if I ever need it. You, Ari, Enterprise...even Utah."

"Or Captain Halsey," Sara pointed out, a hint of a smile ghosting across her face.

Thompson snorted softly, "Yes, and 'ole Bull Halsey. Though I think he's probably more cut out for this than I'll ever be, to be honest."

"You're good at your job though!" The carrier protested, almost reaching out to her Admiral. She didn't though, at a sad shake of his head.

"Maybe, maybe not. Still, I wouldn't get half as far as I have or hope to be, without having you and the others to help me. I see that better now."

Even as he said that, Thompson spun around, and returned to gathering his scattered papers. Sara held a hand to her heart while he did so, squeezing her white tunic slightly. Perhaps, he was better off than he had been. But that didn't do much to change the fact that her Admiral had...had clearly realized something. That he couldn't do everything on his own, yes. But he also had realized...

That he wasn't really ready for all the pressure on him. And that he couldn't possibly do it as well as, say, Captain Halsey.

He's wrong though. Anyone else would have broken at the pressure he's been under.

Sara walked forward at that thought, gently gripping her Admiral's arm. Thompson flinched slightly at the gesture, though he tried to hide it. Sara was having none of that, as she gently pulled him away from the papers. Green eyes met equally green ones, both carrier and Admiral staring at the other. At least, until the former gently squeezed Thompson's hand again.

"Don't go too far in the other direction, Admiral." She gently chided him, voice soft and quiet.

"What do you mean?" Thompson was a terrible liar. Sara couldn't help a small smile at that...he always had been a terrible liar, in the short time she had known him.

"You can't do everything on your own, yes. But that doesn't mean you should put yourself down." Sara shook her head, squeezing tighter. "Honestly, you've done more than anyone. Just because I think you should let us all help you, doesn't mean you should put yourself down. Right?"

She honestly worried that was what her Admiral was doing. He seemed to be acting worried again, with the way he grabbed the papers and avoided her eyes. That worried her, more than she wanted to admit. If he ended up going too far in the other direction, what good was their talk? They would just be back at square one again, and she didn't want to see him hurt...

"I'm glad you're worried about me Sara," Thompson spoke up, breaking the carrier from her morose thoughts. His voice was calm and collected, not a hint of stress or worry in it. In fact, as the carrier looked at him, she saw nothing but a small smile on his face. "But you're worrying about nothing."

The carrier blinked slowly, confused tone to her voice, "What?"

In response, Thompson pulled her along, pointing out the papers he was grabbing. Each was marked with his neat scrawl, and each was about...

"Connecting with others?" She whispered, picking up one about Arizona.

The paper was marked with varying ideas about how to break through and talk to others, some marked out, some circled. But each and every one was well-thought out, and thorough. In point of fact, she didn't even recognize some of them. Ones made when Admiral Thompson was talking with Captain Halsey perhaps? But then, why wouldn't he have shown them to her? And why bring them out no...

Oh. Oh.

Sara spun around, green eyes going wide. Thompson just smiled, scratching the back of his head with a small shrug.

"I know I messed up with Utah, and I want to make up for that somehow. Figured the best way was to look through these old things, and see if I could find something to help her. Failing that, something to help the others. I know I have done more than I probably should on my own, but I can't just stop working. If this is the only thing I can do until and unless we convince Admiral Richardson?"

Here, Thompson finally cracked, his smile fading away. He squeezed his hand against his side, looking away from Sara and at the papers on his bed instead. The man sighed again, patting the bed with his free hand. Hooded eyes looked at the carrier, nothing but weariness in them.

"And, if nothing else, I want to at least make sure you girls have a sure-fire way to make contact. It's not much if I end up losing my position anyway, but it's..." Thompson trailed off, shrugging again.

"Oh..." Sara held a hand to her heart once more, shaking her head. "You don't need to worry about that. I won't let them reassign you."

Thompson smiled, "Thanks for the support, but there's really nothing either of us can do here. Not unless we can convince Admiral Richardson. And you know what, even if I couldn't think of something on the spot, I want to at least do something now."

She understood what her Admiral was saying. Sara really, truly, did. But she still worried he was looking at this the wrong way. He didn't owe anyone anything. Yes, he had messed up with Utah. But that wasn't any reason to push himself to make up for it. He could do that just by being here. Hell, Arizona would say the same thing, and part of her wished she could get the battleship to help knock some sense into her Admiral. But that wasn't an option.

So here she was. What could she even say? Everything she could bring up, he would counter. She knew Admiral Thompson well enough to know that by now, and that was not a lie. So...what then?

"Sir, you don't have to..." Still, Sara at least tried, reaching out to the papers herself.

Admiral Thompson just grabbed her hand gently, shaking his head. Green eyes may have been ringed and tired, but there was a fire behind them that hadn't been there before.

"No, I know what you're going to tell me Sara," the Admiral smiled wanly, his hand squeezing her own. "And I'm thankful for that, I really am. But this is something I have to do, and I hope you'll help me with it. Utah deserves the help, since she offered to do this on her own...and it isn't fair if I don't give her whatever I can to help. So..."

Letting go of her hand, Admiral Thompson reached down to pick up papers marked with Utah and Richardson's names. His smile strengthened slightly, as the time-traveler held them out to the aircraft carrier. Sara hesitatingly took them, part of her tempted to hide them away in her uniform. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. Because this was her Admiral showing how much he trusted her. Thompson knew she wanted nothing more than to take these, and keep him resting instead of working.

But he still handed them to her anyway.

I...I...I can't betray that trust. I care too much about him to do that. I'm...I'm sorry you have to do this Admiral. But if you want my help...

"I'll do what I can, sir," Sara forced a small smile, even though she still worried deeply over what her Admiral was doing.

But as he returned her smile, she at least knew one thing. They were working together now, instead of him running himself ragged. And then, that was what mattered here, wasn't it?

Admiral Thompson seemed to think so, as he pulled her beside him on the bed to look over the papers, "Hopefully this is enough to get Utah what she needs..."

---

...deep inside USS Utah, Admiral James Richardson frowned. His hand reached out, gently running over an old boiler. It came away covered in a fine layer of dirt, something that may have most Admirals wincing or trying to wipe it on a rag. Not Richardson. No, he frowned even deeper, turning to look at his only companion. Commander Jackson stood by another boiler, the man looking more than a little unhappy. And just as Richardson didn't act like most Admirals, it wasn't for the reason that most engineers would be unhappy with having a higher-ranked officer in 'their' space.

No, it was the face of a man unhappy with the condition his ship was in. The same look that crossed the Admiral's face.

"How long has it been, since she got these boilers?" Richardson asked, only now wiping his hand on a rag. He didn't recognize the boilers...it had been quite some time since he had been near one. But these did not look up to date.

"'25," Jackson replied shortly, his gruff voice leaving no room for error. The man looked even more unhappy in the low-light, if that were even possible. "There's been maintenance since, but that's about it. She hasn't had new boilers since then."

"1925," the Admiral repeated slowly, as he reached up to pull his glasses from his face. That was not what he had wanted to hear, perhaps, but it was something he had expected to hear, nonetheless.

Utah was an old ship, one long past her prime. Even if she had still mounted her old guns. The Navy, strapped for money as it was, could hardly afford to go around fixing up what worked when the ship in question was a target ship. Why bother, when ships like Colorado would seem much more deserving? That said, looking through this engine room, he was reminded of...

Well.

This is quite like Delaware. If she were in this condition, I would have...

Admiral Richardson shook his head. It had been long decades, since he had been in the same position as Commander Jackson. As a fellow engineer, it was...uncomfortable. Looking at the deplorable condition of Utah.

A ship for all intents and purposes, only moderately different from his old Delaware.

"I see why you are having her refit," the Admiral turned to the Commander, replacing his glasses on his nose. "But, that does nothing to prove to me what you said is true."

Jackson grunted, shrugging broad shoulders, "That is something that I can't prove just by showing you what she looks like. Hell, I don't have a damn idea how to convince you, if I can speak freely Admiral."

Richardson's lip twitched, "I believe you already were. Still, permission granted."

Unsurprisingly, Jackson didn't flush or act like he cared about the order, this man content in his position and having no interest in moving up in the ranks. As such, he didn't hold back when he said, "To be frank, nothing I say will convince you. That's on Utah. Anything I say could be used to call me insane, spending too much time down here in the old girl."

It wasn't exactly possible to deny that. Despite the strangeness of this apparent hallucination impacting both of his best carrier commanders and an completely unrelated Commander of a target ship...it was true what Jackson said. For all intents and purposes, words alone would never convince the Admiral. He was a shrewd man, and one whom didn't take kindly to liars. But, furthermore, he was also a skeptical man.

Case in point, the fact that absolutely no argument made to him about basing in Pearl held any proverbial water.

He would require something a bit more...physical. Or spiritual, as the case may be. Understandable, considering just what he was being asked to believe here.

"Admiral Thompson said that Utah herself would be trying to convince me. Should I assume 'she' is here?" Richardson's sharp eyes scanned the boiler room, looking for any sign of a woman. Not that he expected to see one, and in fact, didn't. There was...a presence for lack of a better term, yes. But on that subject, it could just as easily be nostalgia for old Delaware.

"She is," Jackson just nodded at a place by Richardson's shoulder. "Utah?"

"..."

Richardson frowned, rubbing his ear. He hadn't heard anything...a whisper of wind. In the middle of a boiler room. Deep inside a battleship.

Right.

The Admiral looked where Jackson had nodded, but even in the dim-lighting, there was nothing to see. Dirty boilers and floors, but no sign of a single woman. Again, he hadn't exactly expected much though, as he turned back to the other officer. Jackson seemed almost...disappointed. Or, at least, as disappointed as his scarred visage let the man look.

"Well, I don't think he can hear you yet Utah. Any other ideas?" The man continued to speak to the boiler by Richardson's side, instead of the Admiral himself.

A situation that hardly helped his case, as it merely made the man look...unhinged. Not dangerous, but certainly not stable. If it were not for the trust that the Admiral held in both Halsey and Thompson, he would not even be trying this.

As it sat...

"I rather doubt anything will happen," Richardson spoke, holding his hand out and gesturing at the surrounding metal. "I will be the first to admit that any and all ships are unique. Utah feels likeDelaware did, but not the same. However, that does not mean they are alive. The idea is..."

"Crazy, yes," Jackson nodded. His face actually bore a small smile, the man chuckling wearily. "If the situation were any different I would agree with you Admiral. But I know what I've seen and felt, and this is one-hundred percent real. Utah's more real than half the men on this ship."

A frown crossed Richardson's face at that, the Admiral narrowing his eyes behind his classes, "Very well then, prove it. I know I've said that already, however, I will not believe you until I see definitive proof."

In response, all Jackson did was turn his head and start speaking to the wall again, "Utah?"

However, instead of the tone his voice had held before, it held more confusion than conviction. Richardson wondered at that, until...

Oh my God.

...until Jackson let out a surprised noise, raising into the air. The Admiral shakily reached his hands up to his glasses, pulling them off again. He wiped them on the collar of his uniform, slowly and carefully. He did not have shaking hands. Nor did his eyes widen. No, all Admiral Richardson did was clean his classes perfectly calmly, before replacing them on his nose. And promptly having the same sight greeting him. Commander Joseph Jackson, floating in midair. The man's arms were pressed against his side, and his eyes were wide.

And if Richardson were in his position, he would be much the same. No shame in admitting that.

"How...?" Still, the Admiral walked forward, turning in a circle around the floating Commander. There were no wires. He held a hand over the Commander, and confirmed that.

Nor where there any other ways he could be doing this. Floating like that was impossible, a magic trick that would never actually work.

"Utah is holding me in the air," Jackson sounded remarkably calm, for a man floating with no apparent support. "I hadn't realized she was this...you're as strong as your horsepower?"

The seeming non-sequitur had the engineer tensing up, and the Admiral frowning.

"Well, don't squeeze me." The gruff man continued, before turning his head to the Admiral. "I would suggest you try putting your hand where my arm is, Admiral."

Richardson, in any other circumstances, would not have done so. Whatever was holding Jackson in the air, was not something he wanted to tangle with. He was a cautious man by nature, and this was no different. However. The Commander was perfectly calm, now that he was in the air. He wasn't struggling. Nor was he making any moves to escape whatever held him. There was no worry in his gruff, scarred features. The man simply...

Hung there, calm as could be.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If this is what they said, then...

Well, cross that bridge when it came. Admiral Richardson placed a hand on Jackson's arm.

Or rather, attempted to. His hand stopped inches above the Commander's arm, touching something much softer and warmer than his uniform. Richardson's eyes did widen now, and who could blame him? For where his hand lay, he could now...see. A woman's hand, soft and gentle, gripping the Commander tightly. The Admiral's eyes, behind his glasses, trailed down that hand, and a grey-clad arm attached to it. Further along that arm they went, coming upon the lithe form of a thin woman. Almost sickly looking, in fact...save for her face.

A face that Richardson's eyes trailed up, finally meeting strangely grey eyes staring right back at him. A youthful face...but one that held an age beyond her appearance. Her eyes were the eyes of someone who had far more age than any other part of her indicated.

Serious eyes, that crinkled at the corners, her lips forming a soft smile as she dropped Commander Jackson.

"You can see me, Admiral?" The woman asked, her voice equally as soft as her expression.

Admiral Richardson nodded slowly, "Yes. U...Utah, I presume?"

"Yes," the woman nodded, grey hair falling in front of her face with each jerk of her head. "I know it's hard to believe, but...USS Utah, BB...AG-16, reporting for duty Admiral."

The woman, Utah, snapped to attention, the look completely incongruous with the long dress and equally long hair hanging down her back. Richardson could only nod, his mind already racing with the implications of what he was seeing.

Was this woman Utah? Perhaps. Regardless of if she truly was the old battleship, there was no denying, at all, that this was a woman strong enough to lift an- admittedly stocky -man. A woman who had been invisible, until he touched her. A woman who, by all rights, should not exist. No person could be invisible one moment, and the next, be visible. Man or woman.

This...this is something I will need to work on. The implications of this are...

So long reaching, not even the sharp Admiral James Richardson could predict what would happen, were this to become common knowledge.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

This chapter marks the end of Arc 1 of the story.
​

Chapter 21:​

I'm leaving...will Admiral Thompson still be here when I come back?

Arizona ran a hand through her short red hair, the battleship sighing deeply. It had been a long time since she had actually seen the Admiral. Ever since he started working with Admiral Halsey, Thompson had not come to her. He'd talk over the radio, sure. But not come in person. Intellectually, Ari even understood why that was the case. If he came to her, he needed an excuse, since she wasn't directly under his command. Or even affiliated with his command. And since Admiral Willson didn't really like Admiral Thompson...

Well.

She could see the problem, however much she certainly didn't like it.

"Final reports are in, Admiral."

The battleship turned her head at that voice, though she recognized it easily enough. Her Captain...come to talk to her Admiral. Ari's brown eyes watched the men, even as she spun on her heel. Her feet carried her away from the windows of her bridge, and towards the two men. She ducked around members of her crew, her blue skirt fluttering by her hips. Ari's jacket, loose as it always was, actually slapped one of her crew in the face.

But the man didn't react, as it phased through him.

I guess none of them really do care enough about me.

Ari couldn't help but sigh again at that. After all...she was the one. The only one who had made no progress in getting through to her crew, despite knowing from the start. Not one of her crew really cared enough about her, did they? Her Admiral certainly wasn't attached to her. Was that why she couldn't get through?

That it may be her not caring enough about her crew never occurred to her.

"Good, good," Admiral Willson's voice got the battleship's attention back, as his eyes scanned over the stack of paper the Captain had handed him. "Delay or no, we should be ready to return to the mainland soon."

"Indeed." The younger man nodded, his own eyes trailing over the crew, before settling on where Arizona stood.

But his eyes looked right through her.

"They still can't see me..." Ari frowned, looking at her Captain, even if he couldn't look at her. "I wonder if they ever will?"

Her question went unanswered, the Captain turning his head back to her Admiral, "Much as I don't agree with the notion that battleships should be second-line combatants, I do agree that we need this refit sir. The old girl doesn't have enough defenses."

"Not at all. That is why I made the suggestions to improve her anti-aircraft armaments." Willson agreed, placing the papers down before looking at the Captain. "This will not be a short refit."

"No it won't, sir." Her Captain nodded in response.

Willson returned the nod, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I'm afraid to say you'll probably be reassigned elsewhere during the refit. I may well be reassigned as well...I know there have been rumbles from back home about Admiral Kidd."

There was silence after that, the two men seemingly deep in thought. Not that Ari noticed, honestly. Her mind had just kicked into...high-gear, Admiral Thompson had called it. A new Admiral? A...new Admiral. One who may actually listen to her? The thought was tantalizing. She would never replace Thompson. Of course not, the man was...well, she wasn't sure what he was actually.

Other than that he meant more to her than anyone else, and that strange dream...well. She wouldn't replace him!

But on the other hand, Enterprise. Utah. Both of them had gotten through, and she couldn't. Much as Ari preferred talking to Admiral Thompson over any of the other Admirals- though Admiral Halsey was...interesting...to talk to -the idea had bitten her. She could have...have her own Admiral to talk to. She wouldn't have to steal Thompson away from Sara. Even though the thought that she was doing so had the battleship clenching a hand over her heart...

No, no. He likes talking to me too!

Squeezing again, Ari nodded sharply. Her brown eyes weren't wet, as she turned over the name of her potential new Admiral. Kidd...there was something about that name.

But what?

"At any rate," Admiral Willson's voice broke Arizona from her thoughts, the man picking his papers back up and moving to leave the bridge. His sure footsteps echoed over the sound of her crew preparing for departure, as the man spoke over his shoulder. His deep voice held no hesitation at all, at that. "I want us ready to leave within the hour. Understood, Captain?"

"Crystal, sir." The younger man nodded back, looking out at the rest of the bridge crew. "You heard the Admiral!"

"Yes sir!" A chorus of voices answered, as men set to their tasks. A pair split off and ran through Ari on their way to check on the rest of the crew, making the battleship shiver.

She tried to avoid walking through her crew, for exactly that reason.

Shaking her head, if only to get rid of the cold feeling, Arizona turned to follow her Admiral out of the bridge. There wasn't much good she could do there anyway, really. And as her booted feet trailed after Willson, she knew that there was one good thing she could do. Figure out what her Admiral had meant by the idea he could get reassigned. And...well. Ari frowned slightly, still feeling slightly...dirty for doing this.

Reporting on what her Admiral said. It felt like spying on him, and she didn't really like that. In fact, it made her sigh softly in resignation.

Because, in all honesty?

Ari would do it. Over and over again. No matter how many times it was asked of her. Because she trusted Admiral Thompson, and Admiral Halsey. She trusted them, and believed the former when he said that War was coming, and they needed to be as prepared as possible. And that meant that the battleships weren't the focus anymore. She wasn't.

It...it hurt sometimes, though she didn't show it. Besides, she was proud of the younger girls getting a chance to prove what they could do! The carriers deserved a chance to shine. Right?

Right...well, no point in thinking about that! I want to help Admiral Thompson, and if I can't do that in combat, I want to at least do it here. If Admiral Willson can't hear me, maybe Admiral Kidd can?

She had a feeling from somewhere- though God only knew where -that the man could. And so, biting her lip, Ari sped up her footsteps slightly. Brown eyes followed Admiral Willson into his office, the battleship ducking her way in behind him, before he could shut the door. If the Admiral had any idea she was there, he certainly didn't show it, wearily sitting down at his desk to look through the papers.

"All stations are ready for departure, and command responsibilities are set to transfer to Pennsylvania upon departure." Willson muttered, leafing through the paper. "Good, good. Captain Johnson know's what he's doing."

For her part, Arizona felt her lips twitch up into a happy smile. Her big sis always complained about Ari being the designated flagship when they served together. Sure, being torn away for refits was hardly fun, but at least her sister would be happy!

"Now...to prepare for Admiral Kidd." The Admiral's voice lowered as he said that, dropping almost to a whisper. At least, a whisper until he started coughing heavily. Willson brought a hand to his mouth, heavy coughs wracking his body.

And just like that, Ari's smile vanished. The battleship rushed to her Admiral's side, worried eyes looking over the older man. Her hands anxiously rubbed together, the battleship resisting the urge to reach out and try to help the man. She knew she wouldn't be doing any good. But as her heart twisted in her chest, Ari still felt bad about it.

She, and her Admiral, weren't attached enough to speak. But that didn't mean she enjoyed seeing him clearly in pain.

"Damn it," Willson finally ground out past his cough, dropping his hand. A weary grimace had replaced the previously stoic expression on his face, as the man leaned back in his chair. His chest rose and fell sharply, the Admiral pale while he looked up at the ceiling of his cabin. His voice was cracked when he began speaking again, holding a hand to his forehead, "It's getting worse every day. Too much stress."

"Stress?" Arizona's voice was filled with worry, her hands continuing to wring themselves, if only to resist the urge to grab the man. And figure out what was wrong with him.

He hadn't been sick before. Or had he been, and she just didn't notice? Because she wasn't really trying to connect any longer?

"Thompson is going to run us all into the ground with these schemes of his," Willson, of course, made no sign he heard a single word from the battleship. "I'll be the first to admit carriers are needed, but the way he pushes..."

The old man sighed, dropping his hand. His breaths were still short, but the man reached out for a pen and a fresh piece of paper. His still-sharp eyes ran over the words he wrote down, muttering low enough that even Ari didn't hear what he said.

"...there. I won't ruin his career over this. But I will warn the others to watch him." Willson's voice didn't carry any malice. Any anger. Or really, any negative connotations at all. Just weariness, as he capped the pen and got to his feet. The man stumbled over to his bunk, falling down against it. His head leaned back once more, a heavy sigh rumbling from his chest. "That man is going to get himself removed if he doesn't stop. And we need men like him, willing to stand up for their ideas even if they're wrong. I won't be here to stop him, not any more."

And with that, the man fell back, clearly spent. Ari watched him to make sure he was okay, and only when she was satisfied that Admiral Willson was...if not okay, at least alright, did she turn away. Her hand reached up to her short red hair, careful to not dislodge her cap. She had to...

She had to let Admiral Thompson know about this.

---

"What do you mean Admiral Willson is..."

Thompson blinked slowly, as he looked at Saratoga. The blue-haired carrier shrugged back helplessly, her own confusion clear on her face.

The pair had been working, ever since Thompson's spurt of energy, on figuring out how to help Utah. Failing that, how to help the other girls like Cali or Honolulu. Or some of the other cruisers in the harbor. Regardless, they had been hard at work on putting the various theories and ideas the group had come up with into action. Thompson himself had been quite insistent on looking at each and every idea in detail, and talking with Enterprise about them.

Arizona suddenly calling in a panic had not been something expected.

At all.

"I don't know Admiral. He was fine before, but now he's sick. He says the stress is getting to him but I don't know...I..." Ari's voice was quite a bit more worried than her usual, cheerful, tone now. So much so, that Thompson felt the sudden urge to go over and give the poor girl a hug.

But since he couldn't do that...

"Well, stress can get to anyone. If he was already not in top shape..." Thompson frowned, remembering his own father. The man ran himself into the ground, but... "I'm sorry though Ari. I just don'tknow what may be wrong with him. I didn't even know he would be in command of you, when I came back. I expected Admiral Kidd."

"Admiral Kidd?"

Just like that, the panicked tone was, if not gone...at least lessened. Instead, there was curiosity, the type he was much more used to hearing from this Ari. It still made Thompson frown slightly though.

"Yes, Admiral Kidd. Do you know him? I'll admit I don't know if he's served on you before but..." Thompson trailed off, once more cursing his relative lack of knowledge. He was no historian, not really. He knew the major things of course, and some more specific dates and such from his talks with the girls in the future.

But he didn't know stuff like Admiral Willson, or if Isacc Kidd ever served on Arizona before he became her Admiral.

"No, I don't think so. But the name sounded familiar..." Ari's voice was thoughtful now, and Thompson could easily imagine her scrunching her nose up in thought. Probably tapping her chin too."Admiral Willson said he may end up as my new Admiral, after my refit. Do you know why?"

Thompson turned his head to look at Sara, shrugging helplessly. His closest friend just smiled, her own shoulders moving up. She wasn't going to be able to help him here, knowing even less than he did.

"Honestly, I don't know Ari." Thompson sighed, running a hand through his short hair. It was a nervous tick, but the situation kinda justified it. In his mind at least. "I don't know why Admiral Kidd got assigned to you in the first place, probably just a routine change of command. Why it's happening now is something I can't say. Maybe Admiral Willson is sicker than he looks?"

There was silence at that, and honestly, the time-traveler could hardly blame Ari for that. He knew she hadn't been able to make contact yet of course. Oddly, Arizona was the only one of the 'original group' who had yet to make any progress. Thompson hadn't the slightest idea why of course. Hell, he scratched his head in confusion on more than one occasion. Ari was such a ball of sunshine, she shouldn't have any issues talking to anyone. Hadn't ever had any issues talking with him, that's for sure.

But when he brought it up to Sara, the carrier just giggled.

Ah well, something to worry about later. For now...

He understood why Ari had gone silent. For all that she hadn't made contact yet. Because every single one of these girls, in the future or the pas...present...acted the same. They all cared very deeply for those they called Admiral. Aside from a handful of exceptions like Akebono.

And if Ari was anything like the rest...

"I'm worried he is. What if he doesn't make it back home?" Ari's voice was completely subdued now, the battleship likely slumping her shoulders. It was...it was like the Ari he remembered.

And Thompson had sworn, when he first met this Ari, that he never wanted to see that girl again. She was one who was special in her own way, but he far preferred the cheery Arizona he had come to know in this time in the past.

"Don't worry Ari. I'm sure he'll be fine," Thompson could hardly promise that of course. He hung his head at the lie, in fact, though Sara at least put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. With medical technology what it was at the time... "Besides, I'm sure you'll like Admiral Kidd too. From everything I remember, he cared about you just about as much as Halsey cared...cares...about Enterprise."

"Really?" The hopeful tone was back in Arizona's voice, and it brought a smile to Thompson's face.

"Really." His own voice was sure and steady, as he smiled at Sara.

Who smiled back, even as she spoke up for the first time, "Don't worry Ari. We'll hold down the fort here until you get back, and I'm certain your Admiral will be okay in the end. Right?"

"Right!" The happy tone that Thompson was so fond of was back in the battleship's voice. Even if a little lingering darkness remained.

But the conversation would be cut short before anyone could say anything else. Cut short, in fact, by knocking on the Admiral's door.

Who could that be?

Thompson raised an eyebrow at Sara, before getting to his feet. He walked over to the door, tugging it open. A junior member of his bridge crew- an Ensign, in point of fact -stood in front of him. The young man stiffened on instinct, nodding at the Admiral. Thompson nodded himself, green eyes looking the young man up and down. He didn't seem panicked. So it wasn't something bad. In theory.

"Admiral Thompson, sir," the Ensign began speaking, his voice admirably stoic and professional.

"Yes?" Thompson replied shortly however. He wasn't really eager to deal with a crisis right now, or something like that.

"Admiral Richardson is requesting permission to board and speak with you, sir."

And that answered that question. But brought up another one. One that had Thompson sweating inside, though he remained calm and unruffled on the outside. A sharp nod, in fact, was directed at the Ensign. "He has permission. Send an escort to my cabin, if you will."

"Yes sir!" The Ensign spun on his heel, marching off to gather a Marine or two.

And for his part, Thompson just turned around, and walked back into his cabin. This was...well, either it was going to push his plans forward...

Or it would end them all.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

"Admiral Thompson."

"Admiral Richardson."

Some time later, the two Admirals stood together in Thompson's cabin. Both men were staring at the other, though Richardson was far better off than the younger man. In point of fact, Thompson was sweating on the outside as well now. Everything...everything he had worked so hard for, came down to this moment. Richardson would only have come to Sara herself, if he either had seen Utah...

...or was convinced that Thompson and Halsey were completely insane.

"And you, I assume, are Saratoga?" But the next words out of Richardson's mouth had the time-traveler deflating in relief.

For the elder man had turned his bespectacled gaze over to Sara, instead of her Admiral. And on her end, Sara flushed bright red, but nodded. A happy smile had crossed her face in fact, as the carrier brushed blue hair from her eyes.

"How did you know?" She asked curiously, green eyes following Richardson.

Who just smiled, and pointed at his head, "Utah may look young for her hair color, but at least it is a natural shade."

Sara's flush grew deeper, "Right, my hair. Admiral Thompson never commented on it so..."

At that statement, Richardson turned his gaze back on the younger Admiral, who sighed. Leave it to one of the ship girls to say something like that. Oh well, Sara meant no harm by it, and he at least had the excuse that...

"I have the spirit of my ship in front of me," Thompson shrugged, doing his best to cover his worry. "Her hair was the last thing on my mind."

Reasonable excuse that one, at least it seemed like Richardson thought so. The elder man just nodded, before moving to look at the papers scattered around Thompson's desk and bunk. His eyebrow remained firmly fixed in the 'up' position as he did so, sharp eyes reading so fast that Thompson wondered if he was just skimming. In point of fact, he probably was.

But then...

He only needed to skim, to see what those papers were. All related to how to get the girls visible, not one of his 'time traveler' bits exposed. Thompson was harried, not an idiot. Leaving something like that where the other Admiral could see?

Yeah, no.

Leaving out the other papers though? That had been intentional. To show just how much work he had made into making the girls visible, so if Richardson had indeed believed him...it would be clear he was trying to work with what he had. And if Richardson hadn't believed him, so the man could at least have something to work with to try again...with, or without, Thompson actually there to help.

"Understandable," Admiral Richardson finally spoke up again, turning back to his younger subordinate. His eyes narrowed slightly when he continued speaking, "But I have to wonder. How long have you been able to see Saratoga, and more importantly, how long have you been using these papers?"

"Since I started serving aboard her, Admiral," not technically a lie that. Thompson, in point of fact, had been able to see Sara since he started serving on her. Just...not since he was assigned to her in the past. "And I've been hoping that I could get more of the girls talking with their crews. I admit, I didn't like going behind your back like this."

"Nor should you have," Richardson's voice was chiding, in the way only an Admiral could do.

Flushing despite himself, Thompson nodded jerkily, "I know. But I wanted to have as many girls available as possible, since the more people..."

Richardson held up a hand, cutting the younger man off. He reached up and pulled his glasses off, wiping them as he regularly did. Thompson still didn't know if they needed cleaning, or if it was a habit meant to put him off guard. If the latter, it worked, since it exposed Richardson's sharp gaze completely. The man held that gaze, not once looking away, even when he put his glasses back on his nose.

No, he didn't turn away at all.

"That is why I am here, Admiral." Richardson finally spoke up again. His voice was flat and entirely devoid of any humor now. The Admiral brought a hand down on Thompson's desk, sharply. The ring of fist slapping against wood made the younger man wince, while Richardson just continued speaking, "I can hardly deny what I've seen. No, between Utah lifting Commander Jackson when I still could not see her, and Saratoga's hair? No. These girls are by no means normal. And, that means one simple fact."

"Sir?" Thompson felt a drop of sweat roll down his face. He almost certainly knew what was going to be said...Halsey had said the exact same, after all.

"This is above all of our heads, son." Richardson didn't disappoint, turning his gaze to Sara once more. His voice softened, if only slightly, when he looked at the carrier. "The implications..."

The elder Admiral sighed heavily, returning his attention to Thompson. His shoulders slumped, ever so slightly. Richardson looked...looked like an old man, out of his depth.

"Every time we build and launch a ship, we're creating a new life. Every single ship ever built has one of these girls, I assume. And that means every time we design and build a warship, we're bringing new life into the world." Richardson's voice lowered further, an ever so slight undercurrent of pain in it. His hand clenched against Thompson's desk, creaking wood echoing in the silent cabin. "And every time we sink a ship, be that in combat or in testing, we kill her. Every time we scrap one, we kill her. Do you have any idea what this will mean, when the news gets out?"

In point of fact...

"Yes, sir."

Thompson knew better than anyone. He still remembered what had happened, when ship girls first became a thing, in his past. Future. Whatever it was.

The words 'political shitstorm' were probably doing it a favor, in all honesty. Media, politicians, religious figures...everyone and their grandmother had an opinion on their new saviors. Angels some said. Others were up in arms at the idea that ships could possibly have a soul, and what that implied for everything else...human and otherwise. Yet further people started protesting at the idea that every time a ship was sunk or scrapped, an innocent life was lost.

Frankly, he expected it to be even worse when this news got out. Now that it was completely confirmed that, yes, these girls were always there? And furthermore, that they were alive? Not to mention that, even without the internet to fan the flames, he was in the 1940s. Thompson could only guess at how the beliefs of the day were going to be torn to shreds by this.

Even so...

"I can't just keep it a secret though, Admiral," Thompson continued with a small sigh. His own hands clenched by his side, as the man sent a look at Sara. The carrier, his best friend, gave him a supporting smile in return. Sending his own smile back, Thompson squared his shoulders and turned back to Richardson. "Even if I wanted to, I won't do that to these girls. All of them are so excited at the idea of being able to talk with someone...I can't take that from them."

Richardson just smiled, if only slightly, "I would be the first to agree with you, Admiral. However, the point remains."

The man picked up the paper again, waving it in Thompson's face. Richardson's own developed a fierce scowl, the man returning to his serious stance.

"We will need to use what you've developed. Convince enough people that what we are seeing is real, and then immediately bring this to Washington. Saratoga is schedule to go in for refit in January. You have until then to break through with enough ships and sailors to convince others who have no attachment..."

Richardson's eyes narrowed, as he set the paper down.

"Because you and I will be going to Washington with this."​

---

...

...

...

...

...

Hamburg, Germany, December 10th 1940

"What are we doing here, I wonder...?"

German battleship Bismarck, first of her class and indeed the first proper battleship built by German hands in decades, sat upon her deck. Her pale legs, only marginally covered by her long socks, stretched out over the side of her hull. Cold seawater brushed against both her limbs and hull, but she hardly noticed. No, all of Bismarck's attention was on the pier she was tied up alongside. And, indeed, on Blücher, tied up further along the dock.

She was in Hamburg to finish her fitting out. Bismarck knew that. But there was something else, and she wasn't sure what. Captain Lindemann had been quite silent on that fact, ever since they had returned. Not that the man could see her of course...

But still.

I am curious, about why he's acting that way. Herr Lindemann is a good Captain. But it is not like him to act like this, so why...

Bismarck let out a sigh, looking back at the pier. The only explanation she had was that they were waiting on someone. Perhaps even the Führer, come to visit her again. If that were the case, the battleship couldn't say she really looked forward to it. Her memories of the last she had seen the man were hardly fond ones.

The little man had no respect for the Navy, however he crooned about his 'most powerful battleship in the world'.

She could see that in the way he carried himself, and how he insisted on that strange salute instead of the proper salute she had seen done by older members of her crew. The one, she could only assume, came from her elder cousins in the old Kaiserliche Marine.

...

...

Yes, she may be biased. But Bismarck held no real attachment to the leader of her nation. She served Germany, not any one man. Her namesake had taught her that much, from what little she knew of the Iron Chancellor.

"Captain, is everything ready?"

Bismarck's attention was torn from her morose thoughts, and directed to her hull. The battleship pulled herself fully aboard, smoothing down her long grey jacket. At times, she almost wished she had a skirt...but then, no one could see her anyway, so did it matter?

Pushing that aside as irrelevant, the battleship's ice blue eyes- colder than the brisk sea breeze -focused instead on her Captain. The handsome Lindemann had walked out of her superstructure, a thick overcoat covering his usual uniform. Sharp eyes scanned over her hull, locking eventually on her gangplank. Bismarck followed that gaze, curiosity coming to her heart.

So they were waiting for someone then.

"Everything is ready," Lindemann's own deep voice spoke up, as the man walked to her gangplank, totally ignoring the battleship herself.

Not that she expected anything else.

"Ready for what, though?" Bismarck voiced her thoughts, even though she knew it wouldn't be answered.

And indeed, wasn't. At least, not directly.

"This is unusual, I will admit," Lindemann turned his head, looking at the younger man by his side. Her XO, Hans Oels, returned the look as Lindemann continued speaking, "An Admiral does not normally come aboard a vessel that has yet to finish fitting out. Still, if this is his choice, we will abide by it and make certain he is ready."

"She," Bismarck tiredly replied on instinct.

"Well, I'm certain we are ready," Oels also made no sign he heard the battleship, pulling down his uniform cap slightly.

Lindemann nodded, "Indeed. Now, here he comes I believe."

Turning her head away from her officers, Bismarck began to tap her foot against her deck. Her boot stomped down swiftly and repeatedly, each step echoing over the sounds of a busy harbor. Bismarck hardly noticed though, blue eyes entirely focused on the man coming up onto her hull.

A man who, honestly, was not what she expected.

He...

Where Captain Lindemann was tall and handsome, carrying the rugged edge of a Kriegsmarine Captain well, her Admiral was average height at best. A man with sharp features, lined by age. He had to be at least a decade older than her already aged Captain. That age was reflected well in his eyes too, a dark blue quite unlike her own. And unlike her cold eyes, the Admiral's were...were aged. Even more than his lined face, his eyes reflected a man who had seen much, and lived through hardship. Hardship that had turned his short hair slate grey under his cap. Hardship that had not bowed his shoulders, even as age worked on his body.

This was no ordinary man.

"Welcome aboard, Admiral Schreiber," Captain Lindemann saluted in the old-style, a salute returned by the older man.

"Thank you, Captain Lindemann," Schreiber's voice was rough as his features, not a hint of levity. "I see you have taken good care of Bismarck."

"Of course sir." Lindemann was quick to nod, a small smile crossing his face. "We have tested her and done what we can to make certain we're ready for combat. Though, I understand after the sinking of Gneisenau, we aren't likely to head to sea until the Führer is convinced we're ready."

Schreiber's mouth cracked a slight smile, "You would be correct, Captain. To that subject, I expect to be shown a full tour and meet my crew. First, however, I must drop off my luggage. If you would kindly show me to my cabin?"

"Right this way sir!"

As the men began walking into her superstructure, Bismarck shook herself. For all that Admiral Schreiber had been focused on Captain Lindemann, she...she felt like he wasn't really focused on the Captain. No, it was almost like...almost like...

Like he saw me.

She knew it was crazy. No one could ever see her. But Bismarck couldn't quite shake the feeling, that the Admiral's deep blue eyes had looked over her. And not her hull. No, it almost seemed like they had locked onto her. Which should be impossible. So why did she feel that way?

So deep in this thought was she, that Bismarck only tangentially followed her Captain as they walked towards the as-yet unused Admiral's Quarters. She only barely noticed her Captain and XO bidding the Admiral goodbyes, before moving to gather her officers. Bismarck didn't shake herself from her thoughts, until she heard a light cough. A cough that had her flinching.

The strongest battleship in Europe, flinching.

Wide blue eyes turned from her hull, to her Admiral. Meeting darker blue, as Schreiber's aged features twisted into a full, genuine smile.

"Hello, Bismarck. It's been far too long since I last saw you."
​

---

And there we are.

Arc 1 was getting the girls to see their crews. That's why I ended it, when Richardson was convinced...because continuing that plot would just be a bunch of chapters of 'girl convinces member of crew in new way'. Repetitive after a while.

Any particular girls that are important, will be touched on in Arc 2 though. Which, well...

Will be rather more political in nature. Though I fully intend to keep the girls around, especially Enterprise since her and Halsey are too fun to work with.

Also, hello Bismarck.​

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Guess what? Three story things in one night!

At any rate, this chapter is the start of Arc 2. Which, as I said before, is going to be a heavy political focus, thanks to Washington. But I will keep Little E and Halsey as a major secondary focus, to keep something more fun around. And they're fun to write too, so there's that!

Also, this is a thing now, for those wondering why I use Sara so much.​

Chapter 22:​

"You know, Sara?"

Admiral Thompson smiled at the carrier standing beside him, the two perched outside her bridge once again. Only, now, a light sea-breeze blew both their hair back. Though the short strands of the Admiral's hair could hardly compare to the streaming blue locks of the woman by his side. Nor could his smile compare to the bright one on her face.

"Yes, Admiral?" Her voice was just as bright, unequivocally happy in a way that neither of them had been in a long time.

"It's nice to be out here again, even if it won't be for very long." Thompson couldn't help his own smile widening. Oh, her attitude was infectious. It was all too rare, that either of them could just...be like this. Happy.

With all the stress that had accumulated over the months since his trip into the past, the Admiral had come to truly treasure moments like this, when he could just...be himself. They were all too rare, in all honesty. He didn't like that, but well, that was life. And at least now, for a short time, he would be able to enjoy himself. Too bad that it was just him and Sara, Arizona already gone for refit and Enterprise back at Pearl.

"We're going to be separated soon though," Sara pointed out, seemingly reading her Admiral's mind.

For his part, Thompson just nodded, though it didn't do much to dampen his smile, "I'm aware. Even if I weren't going all the way to Washington after you're in dock, I would have had to shack up with Lex until you were done."

"I should feel jealous, shouldn't I?" Sara tapped her chin, hiding a wide-grin behind her curtain of blue hair.

Thompson just rolled his eyes, "Like I'd do anything. No, I would just be waiting to come back once you got out of refit. Lex is nice and all, but you're my best friend, here."

Electing to ignore the bright flush that crossed the carrier's face, the Admiral instead looked out at the waves. He wasn't joking, really. Sara was the one he wanted to serve this damn war with. He was closer to her than anyone else, really, aside from maybe Arizona. Lex was a sweet girl, if a bit of a tease, but he had no intention of serving aboard her for any length of time longer than absolutely necessary. In that regard...

Well, going to Washington wasn't that bad.

"At any rate, I won't have to worry about that, at least not at first. God only knows how long I'll be stuck up in Washington really." The young man sighed softly, brushing back a stray bit of hair. This was going to be a test of everything he knew and had prepared for, in ways that he wasn't quite sure how to deal with. "At least I'll have Richardson and the other's word to back me up. Still not going to be fun."

And wasn't that an understatement of the century contender.

"I'm sure everything will be fine, sir," Sara was quick to protest. She always did.

"One can hope." Thompson placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. His smile remained, at the least, the Admiral squeezing gently. "And thank you, Sara."

The flush refused to fade from Sara's face, as she nodded. Though confusion was in her tone when she spoke again, "What for, sir?"

"Just being there. I've said it a lot, but that never does change. It'll be tough having you in Washington while I'm off in..."

Thompson trailed off, shaking his head in clear amusement. At first, Sara just stared at the man in confusion. Her green eyes clearly didn't know what he was thinking. But...

Then it hit her.

And she collapsed into helpless giggles, while the Admiral just sighed and squeezed her shoulder again.

"Yeah, I walked into that one." Thompson didn't have a hint of bitterness in his voice, just amused fondness. Indeed, his smile widened slightly. "Anyway...it'll be hard having you in Bremerton while I'm in D.C." At Sara's continued giggles, the Admiral did shake his head though. "And yes, that is less confusing. Not used to talking about the state and the city in the same breath."

Sara didn't comment on that, instead holding her hand to her mouth until her giggles died down. The mirth was still very clear in her dancing green eyes though, as she continued talking. "Thank you, Admiral. I hope that you'll be okay with just Admiral Richardson."

"Well, not just him." Thompson pointed out.

As he did so, his own green eyes shifted past Sara and towards the side of her hull. Difficult as the surface of the water was to see from their position- her island was quite far from the surface -Sara followed his gaze. Sailing in formation with the rest of their little taskgroup, was one unique sh...well, boat, technically. A sleek submarine, entirely unlike the more bulbous nuclear subs that Thompson was familiar with.

Technically inefficient, but there was something to be said for the more traditional hull-form of the old diesel boats.

More specifically, something to be said for USS Skipjack. A newer submarine for the time, and the first to actually make a breakthrough with her crew. Something that was...well...

I'll never hear the end of this, will I?

Submarines of the United States Navy may not have the same reputation that some of the Japanese ones did, but their definition of 'uniform' still stretched things. A lot. Even in the future, leave alone the much more conservative sensibilities of the 1940s.

"You know Admiral, I don't think even Captain Halsey has ever been that angry with someone." Sara spoke up, again, seemingly reading the older man's mind.

Thompson just nodded, "I know."

Oh, did he know...

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

Doing his utmost to not show his discomfort, Thompson shuffled in the cramped confines of Skipjack. He had never been in a submarine before, leave alone one this cramped. Even old Bowfin wasn't quite as cramped.

Of course though, it wasn't the cramped nature of the sub that had him shifting. No that was the other officer staring at him, a young girl peeking out from behind his slim body. The submariner was somewhat pale for someone who lived in Hawaii, and both shorter and slimmer than the Admiral. Living in a sub likely was the reason for that...but it didn't do much to make his incredulous glare much lighter.

Somehow, I knew this would happen when a sub made contact. But we need one of them...

"Admiral Thompson, sir," the other man finally spoke, his voice...surprisingly soft. Considering how most other officers spoke, anyway. "I was told you could explain this?"

"To an extent," Thompson replied, inwardly cringing despite himself. Destroyers and submarines...they would be the issue, wouldn't they? Even moreso than the others. "I've never actually been aboard a submarine so I wouldn't know what to expect."

"I didn't expect this." The submariner groused, twisting his body so that girl behind him could be visible. "Get out here Skip."

"Captain Hawkins!"

That voice had Thompson blinking at how young it sounded. The girl who stepped out from around the submariner- Lieutenant Hawkins, technically -was certainly not old by any definition. She looked to be in her early teens, and sounded even younger. Though...that was probably not helped by the clothing the girl was wearing. If one could call it that.

For while what Enterprise and Sara wore stretched the limits of 'uniform', Skip didn't even go that far. Her thin body, nearly flat-chested as she was, hardly helped the image. Nor, for that matter, did her wide hips.

Hips clad in a dark red swimsuit, that barely covered them.

Well, at least it's period appropriate?

Taking what he could get, Thompson hunched down, looking the short submarine in the eye. Her brown eyes widened at that, the sub self-consciously brushing at shoulder-length red hair.

"You okay?" Thompson asked softly, resisting the urge to reach a hand out. Damn it, did she have to look so young and vulnerable? He had never been comfortable with how young some of these girls really looked.

"I'm fi...fine!" Skip shook her head, and if she had hair any longer it would have been flying around and smacking someone in the face. The violent motions betrayed how she really felt though.

"No, you aren't. You're uncomfortable," the Admiral shook his head, and turned to look at her 'captain'. A single eyebrow was raised, in addition to asking, "Lieutenant, has she been like this since you started seeing her?"

"No," Hawkins answered. His voice was dryer than it had any right to be now, as the man patted the submarine on the shoulder. He was hardly old himself, but compared to the submarine?

Well.

"In fact, she normally won't stop talking. When she's not lazing about." Despite the reproach in his voice, the Lieutenant didn't look all that angry with the submarine by his side. In fact, he looked more amused. "Then, when we're off duty that's what most submariners would do."

Nodding along with that, Thompson turned back to Skip. He had a theory now...if she had no problem talking with the Lieutenant, but was all nerves around him...

"You're not comfortable talking with me because you're not used to being seen by anyone but your crew and other submarines, right? Being a sub, you're used to being the one no one looks at and if something does look at you..." Thompson trailed off, as Skip's pale face went bright red. The little submarine girl nodded in clear embarrassment, in fact.

"Yes..." Skip whispered, her voice low and soft. "If I'm seen, I'm sunk. I'm not...not really used to the idea of anyone seeing me, let alone someone who isn't in my crew."

With a comforting smile on his face, the Admiral shook his head. This time he did place a hand on the girl's slim shoulder, gently gripping it. "Well, you don't need to worry about me. I'm here to help all you girls, and I would never hurt any of you."

A bright, if very small, smile crossed the sub's face at that. It was a start at least, and hopefully, one day...Thompson would be able to see the girl that the Lieutenant saw.

Speaking of whom...

"Now, Admiral, if I may speak freely?" Hawkins cleared his throat, sending a look equally as dry as his voice had been.

"Granted," Thompson braced himself, already having an inkling of what he should expect.

Hell, he would do the same if the situation were reversed.

"Why in God's green Earth, is Skip wearing that instead of a uniform?"

And that was about what the Admiral had expected. Hawkin's voice had lost the dry tone, and taken on the angry tone only an affronted officer could really manage. Especially if that officer were affronted by a subordinates uniform. Like the fact that Skip was not wearing anything resembling one. Even for a loose submariner, who likely didn't care about uniform regulations as much as a surface officer, well...

That had to be frustrating.

Probably didn't help that the submarine was trying to hide a glare directed at her 'captain' as well.

"I assume it has something to do with her being a submarine," Thompson smoothly lied, shrugging his shoulders. "Honestly, I don't know even half of why the girls look like they do. Your guess is as good as mine."

"The Admiral's right!" Skip added hotly, only to flush when she realized how loud she had spoken. Shrinking back in on herself, the submarine shuffled her feet. And muttered, much more softly, "I have the swimsuit because trying to go underwater in a real uniform would slow me down..."

Hawkins looked between the Admiral and submarine with a suspicious glance, only sighing when he didn't get any real reaction, "Put a spare uniform on while on duty, at least. I'm not comfortable seeing someone as old as my sister wearing...that."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

"Yeah, I thought the Lieutenant might have kept arguing the point if I weren't an Admiral," Thompson sighed softly, looking at Sara as the breeze kicked back up again.

The two had turned away from the distant form of Skipjack, and instead, returned to looking out at the featureless horizon. They were far enough away from Pearl and California that there was no land in sight. Nothing but endless stretches of crystal blue water, the calm Pacific only gently rocking Sara's large hull. The sound of men going about their duties- including Thach continuing to drill his pilots and ground crew -was there of course. But otherwise, it was just the two of them.

At least, while Admiral Richardson inspected the crew. Transporting two Admirals had everyone on edge, and Thompson knew that better than anyone.

"Little E said that Captain Halsey felt the same way, at least until she got him used to her uniform," Sara smiled fondly, rolling her eyes. There was no bite to it though, the action one of a fond aunt. "I imagine the Captain still isn't happy about it."

"No, probably not," Thompson agreed with a small laugh. Leaning against the carrier, the Admiral looked out at the water. There was silence for a minute or so, the man gathering his thoughts while he felt the gentle swell of waves. And the soft heat of Sara's arm. "At any rate, let's get back inside. I need to talk over the plans with Admiral Richardson, and see if we can get you a better refit this time. I don't want you going into the war at anything but your absolute best."

"Of course, Admiral." Sara nodded, though she was hesitant to pull away from the Admiral.

Thompson didn't blame her for that, never had. The War was a subject none of them were fond of.

But it was coming, and he would be damned if Sara wasn't as ready as she possibly could be.

---

The same sun that shone down on Saratoga shone down on Pearl Harbor. The almost constant presence of the massive carrier was missed, however, leaving the harbor feeling almost...empty. For the first time in months, in fact, there was only one carrier present. USS Enterprise, currently loading aircraft for a ferrying mission to Guam. With the cancellation of the last Fleet Problem, acting as a glorified aircraft transport was what the carrier did, when not assigned to training. It was a thankless job for the crew, but one that the isolated island outposts understandably appreciated.

It did, however, annoy one Bull Halsey to no end.

"We're no damn ferry. You're no ferry." The old Admiral grumbled darkly. He was pacing along the floor of his cabin, occasionally glaring at nothing in particular.

For her part, Enterprise just smiled and held back a giggle. Her Admiral always did get like this when he was ordered to do something he didn't like. That he had become rather protective of her now, just added to that. And she did appreciate it...acting as a glorified transport did bug her somewhat.

It was hard to make Yorktown proud, when all she did was carry around planes that she couldn't even use.

"It's our orders, Admiral." Still, that didn't stop Enterprise from speaking up softly, her crimson eyes following her Admiral's pacing form. The small smile didn't leave her face as she did so, even when she continued speaking. "I thought you were happy to get out of the harbor?"

"Of course I am." Halsey didn't scoff. The man never did, honestly. But he did make it clear he didn't like being cooped up in Pearl either. "But that doesn't mean I enjoy playing transport. There are other ships that can do that."

"Like Mama Langley?" Enterprise suggested, aware that was what her mother-figure did. Langley was no longer a carrier, instead a seaplane tender or transport, depending on her designated duty.

While Halsey didn't scoff, he did turn around and raise an eyebrow at Enterprise, "Yes, like your...mother."

It was impossible really. Enterprise couldn't hold back her giggles anymore at the dry tone to her Admiral's voice, the carrier helplessly holding a hand to her mouth as her body shook with her mirth. That Admiral Halsey sighed and rubbed at his forehead just helped in that regard, making her even more amused. He never had adjusted to the idea that Langley was her mother.

Said it made no sense, being as they were entirely different ships.

Then again, part of Enterprise, the part that was currently making her giggle harder...just thought he was embarrassed considering her own inclination to consider him her father. Admiral Halsey had never commented on that, but Enterprise knew that he knew. It was why he was so protective of her, even beyond an Admiral caring for his ship.

"Leaving that aside," the Admiral coughed, getting Enterprise to stop her laughing. Though the smile refused to leave her face, even when Halsey continued speaking gruffly, "You're much more useful as a combat ship. And I'm no freighter Captain."

In point of fact, he sounded insulted at the very insinuation.

Admiral Halsey is a fighter, and I know he doesn't like running...milk runs, Admiral Thompson called it. Still, we need to work though!

Not that Enterprise liked it either, of course.

"I'm not a transport, and I know that." Enterprise spoke up herself, her voice carrying an undertone of mild annoyance. "Yorktown would never let me live this down, if she weren't doing the same."

"She'd be right not to. This is a waste of both our abilities and experience," Halsey hardly denied that point. The Admiral just returned to pacing, looking nothing more than a caged animal eager to get out and do something.

Which was, in a way, fitting. Enterprise would never call her Admiral animalistic, he just wasn't. On the other hand, he hated being cooped up. He hated being made to do something he didn't like. No matter what it was, or no matter how important it was.

And unfortunately, Enterprise herself wouldn't deny that what they were doing was important. Those bases needed the planes, and then some. They needed replacements for training accidents. They needed newer models. All of this was true, and even if neither the carrier nor her Admiral liked doing the job, they needed to do it anyway. Especially if Admiral Thompson was...well. Was right about the coming war.

"But they need the planes, Admiral." Enterprise even pointed out at as much. She did still flinch when Halsey turned an unhappy look- he couldn't glare at her, not now -in her direction. But she was getting better at squaring her shoulders, and staring right back with her otherwise unnerving red-eyed gaze. "If Admiral Thompson is right about the war..."

Halsey just held up a hand, "Yes, I know. And I do agree. We keep pushing the Japs into a corner, they'll hit back. It's what I'd do, and I don't think they're that stupid to let their country fall apart around them. Stupid enough to attack us, yes. To fall apart, no."

"And that's why we need..." Enterprise began, only for her Admiral to slap his hand on the table. Flinching again, the young carrier stared as Halsey worked himself up again.

"I know they need the planes. I know we're going to end up dragged into this goddamn war at some point. But there are other ships, and it should not be us. However convenient it is."

As he said that, Halsey thrust his square chin out at the harbor. Or, at least at the porthole looking out into the harbor.

"We should be training for the war, not doing a transport's job." The Admiral almost growled that. His displeasure with the orders from on-high was abundantly clear. And, it only grew when he walked away from his desk. When he placed a hand on Enterprise's small shoulder, the Admiral quite a bit larger than the girl. "You should have better. Goddamn, Enterprise, but you should have better. It makes my blood boil to think that the Navy is using you like this."

While the anger remained in his tone, there was a hint of...almost protectiveness in it now. Even that hint had Enterprise feeling her heart pound in her chest. No matter how many months it had been since they started talking. Or how much they bonded. The amount of love her Admiral had for her never ceased to amaze her. He cared, so much. Always had.

But it was even stronger now, that he had her as almost a daughter.

Or, at least in her mind, the closest she ever could be to his daughter.

"Admiral..." Enterprise sniffled, feeling her eyes get wet. She acted tougher than she was, honestly. She was still the same old Little E, deep down, and that had never changed.

"Chin up sailor," of course, it wouldn't be Halsey if he didn't push her to be stronger. He pulled away, nodding his head fiercely. "If we're stuck doing this job, I want to at least get some proper work done. James can always use more help in Washington, so let's get busy. The destroyers are next, finally."

"Right!"

While she still surreptitiously wiped at her eyes, Enterprise smiled at her Admiral. Halsey made a show of acting like he didn't notice, but she saw. She saw his expression soften, the Admiral's lips twitching up into a slight smile.

He cares. He's harsh about it, but Admiral Halsey truly does care about me. I can't let him down! I want to make him proud of me!

Squaring her shoulders again, Enterprise held a hand to her head.

"Everyone, we're moving on to the destroyers now!" She barked out in her best impersonation of her fa...Admiral's...tone.

If the approving nod was any indication, Halsey appreciated that.

"Whoa, Big E. What got under you?" The first other girl to respond, unsurprisingly, was California.

"We need to get the destroyers moving," Enterprise replied, her voice not once changing tone. The commanding tone was unlike her but...

I will make Admiral Halsey proud of me.

"Well, I get that. We need to get them talking. But damn girl, you're talking like Admiral Halsey!"

The shock in Cali's voice had Enterprise flushing, but with pride more than embarrassment this time. She wanted to sound like Admiral Halsey. It meant she was doing what she was doing right. Andher Admiral was the best Admiral she knew. If she was talking like him, using his tone of command, then she was doing something right!

In fact, she said as much, "That's what I was trying to do. Now, do you have any ideas for the destroyers?"

"...a couple, yeah." Cali replied, sounding like she had been sent spinning.

And even if she had, it wouldn't matter. Enterprise would make her sisters and Admiral proud. And the best way to do that, was to help Admiral Thompson convince the President that what he was saying was true. And the way to do that?

Breakthroughs. And so long as she was loading planes for Guam, Enterprise would do the utmost she could to help!

 

[theJMPer]

Friscotime
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

Heavy Cruiser San Fransisco —'Frisco' to her friends. If… she had any—braced her feet on the cold steel of her own bridge. Her fine Japanese features hovered a few inches from her Captain's all-American jawline. Her almond eyes narrowed to tightly focused slits, and her ratty, tangled black hair seemed to quiver with nervous energy.

The heavy cruiser puffed out her cheeks, with a mischievous grin. She'd tried every trick in the book to break though to her crew. Which wasn't much, really. At this point, "The Book" was really more of a pamphlet. Or… like a business card. All The Book really said was "do stuff until other stuff happens."

Frisco was sailing uncharted waters, pushing back the gloomy veil of ignorance with each step. Another ship might be a little worried, but not Frisco. She was a cruiser. If battleships were the fleet's fist, cruisers were its eyes. Searching out the unknown and making it… un-unknown was her very reason to exist.

And she had a trick up her sleeve.

Frisco's small, fully treaty-compliant bosom swelled as she sucked in a huge lungful of air. She rose on her tip-toes until she was staring her Captain square in the eyes. And then she spoke.

"NOTICE MEEEEEEEEE!" Frisco bellowed with all the thundering volume her surprisingly capacious lungs could produce. A few drops of spit flew though the air at the power of her voice, and she heard—almost felt her voice echo back to her against her own hull.

Her Captain blinked.

Frisco panted, her arms furiously waving as she signaled out "N-O-T-I-C-E-M-E" in semaphore while she gathered her strength for another scream. She was close, she could feel it in her… bones? bulkheads? Something like that.

"Notice me!" chanted Frisco, "Notice me! Notice me! Notice me! NOTICE MEEEEEEEEEE!" Her lungs utterly empty, the cruiser slumped against her captain. She closed her eyes, a smile crossing her face at the warm embrace of his uniform caressing her grimy skin.

Only the caress never came. Instead, the cruiser tensed like someone had just poured ice water over her grave. She opened her eyes just in time to see her own deck come rushing up to meet her.

"Ow!" Frisco bounced off her deck in an undignified pile of sinew, legs, and ratty hair. If she'd taken any serious damage—besides the massive hit to her pride—she couldn't tell right off the bat. She was still so grungy—she'd came to Pearl in the first place for a good through scrubbing—that she couldn't make heads or tails of what was actually busted.

Oh well… if embarrassing herself in front of her Captain was enough to break though, she'd swallow her pride with joy.

"Ta-dah!" Frisco put on her best Hollywoodland smile and rolled onto her back. If she was going to make a fool out of herself, she was going to make a fool out of herself in style. "I'm here everyone!"

Not a man on the bridge reacted. A rating jogged over to the Captain with clipboard in hand, his leg passing right though Frisco's sinewy belly like it wasn't anything more than smoke.

"Damnit." Frisco cursed to herself and sheepishly stood up. She tried to smooth out the rumples on her long-since sweat-stained uniform, but there's only so much one tired shipgirl could do. She really needed that defouling. She could feel the crud building up on her skin, slowing even her thinking to a sluggish crawl.

She narrowed her eyes at her captain, one finger thrust out at his face as a stern look crossed her own. "I'm not done with you yet!"

Her captain, predictably, didn't offer her the slightest reaction.

Frisco huffed, her arms crossing her chest as her cheeks puffed out in a pout. She was a cruiser. The eyes of the fleet, she was supposed to sneak around and turn a few random sightings into information her Admiral could use to plan an attack. That meant she should be able to think on her feet—or keel… screws… whatever. Metaphors are hard.

Well, if there was one thing she knew, it was that sitting around pouting wasn't going to get her anywhere. Frisco glanced at her watch. Not to check the time—the fouling was so dense over the glass she could barely even see the hands, let alone the hour markings—but to give her hands something to do while she thought.

Hmm… still nothing.

Frisco shoved her hands into her pockets and ducked though the bridge door. (Literally. She couldn't open it if she tried, and she had tried.) Maybe a quick walk would help clear her mind. Lord knows she could use the exercise if she wanted to keep her weight under the ever-looming treaty limit.

So Frisco walked down her hull. She walked, and there may have been some skipping to, but only because she knew nobody could see her. Skipping just wasn't appropriate for a United States Navy warship. Even if if was fun.

Then, as she skipped down her cramped passageways, Frisco had a thought. Maybe she'd been looking in the wrong place this whole time. Her captain was… her Captain, yes. He commanded her and led her into battle, but he had a hundred other things to worry over. Nine hundred and four things, if her last crew count was accurate. She could hardly blame him for not worrying over his ship when he had actual, living, breathing sailors to worry about.

But her Engineer, he looked after her, and her alone. Her captain might have led her into battle, but her Engineer patched her up, tucked her in, and read her a bedtime story. There wasn't anyone on… her… that she loved quite as much as her Engineer. And she knew just the way to her machinery spaces.

—|—|—​

Frisco found her Engineer right where she expected. Half-buried in her machinery and screaming expletives while banging about with a comically large wrench. The cruiser couldn't help but smile, she always felt so tingly and loved whenever he worked on her.

"Hey, Commander?" Frisco bit her lip and shyly toyed with the ragged end of her matted hair.

"Socket wrench!" barked the half-hidden form of her Engineer. He had a name of course, Commander Mike Burrows. But to Frisco, the man would always be her beloved Engineer.

A ragged-looking rating bolted over to a tool box and plucked a tool with shaking fingers. "Right here, sir!"

Burrows didn't even look at the tool. The instant it settled into his hand, some Engineering sixth sense went off and he all but hurled the tool at the hapless rating's head. "That's a Monkey Wrench, nugget!"

"S-sorry, sir!" The rating scrambled over to grab the correct tool

"How the hell am I supposed to get this lazy-ass bitch in the fight," thundered Burrows from underneath Frisco's turbine. The cruiser tried and failed to bottle up a sigh of contentment at his loving concern. "Without socket wenches?"

"C-coming right up sir," the Rating fished a ratcheting driver out of the toolbox and slapped it into Burrows' waiting hand.

"First the Naht-sees-" Frisco always liked the way her Engineer pronounced that word. It just felt… right. "-now the nips, and I'm stuck on a boat with a fouled bottom and-" he stopped. "Gimme a half-inch socket."

The rating's hand had barely closed around a socket when the Engineer's voice thundered up again. "I said half-inch goddammit!"

The rating couldn't let go of the socket fast enough, the little bit of polished steel smacking in to the stamped metal tool box with a loud metallic ping!

"Uh, this one right here." Frisco happily plucked the right-sized socket from its secluded corner and handed it to the rating.

"Thanks ma'am," the scruffy-haired young sailor offered her a toothy grin of thanks.

And then both of them froze. Frisco blinked, while the poor rating just fainted away in a pile of limbs and dungarees.

"Where is my damn socket!" Burrows' noticeably empty hand flexed in the air, impatiently expecting the ordered tool.

"Coming up, sir!" Frisco leaped over the rating's body and slapped the properly-sized socket into her Engineer's impatient paw.

He grunted a note that might have been either thanks or indigestion, then slid himself deeper into her machinery.

Wait.

Frisco blinked. She'd just… just spoken to two of her crew. Interacted with them. Handed them tools. She DID IT! She'd BROKEN THROUGH!

"WOOO-OW!" Frisco jumped for joy. And suddenly realized just how little headroom there was in her machinery spaces as her head smashed into a structural beam. "Owowowowowowow," Frisco clutched at her head as she collapsed into a puddle of disheveled heavy cruiser.

The next thing she knew, a heavy, grease-covered hand was gently patting her shoulder. "You okay, miss?"

Frisco nodded, and sheepishly glanced up at her Engineer. "I think so."

Burrows blinked, the muscles in his almost non-existent neck tensing like steel anchor chains. "You're a-"

"Girl?"

"I was gonna say nip."

"No!" Frisco's mood instantly shifted from unrestrained joy at finally being noticed to disappointed rage. "No! I'm… I'm Nisei! I'm-" She cursed herself for trying to explain her situation with a Japanese word. "I'm American. I was born down at Mare Island! In California!"

Burrows folded his arms and glared at her.

"Look, I'll prove it!" said Frisco. The cruiser puffed out her chest and folded her arms with a smirk of fierce determination.

"I'm waiting," Burrows tapped his fingers against his bicep.

"Oh, uh…" Frisco's bluster faded and she scuffed her toe against her own decking. "That was it."

Burrows just arched an eyebrow.

"I said 'look'," explained Frisco. "Not," the cruiser squinted her already narrow eyes until they were nothing more than slits. Her neck craned forwards and she peeled her lips back to bare her teeth, "Rook! Is verrry HONORUBU!!"

"Oh lord in heaven," Burrows' face sagged to his chest.

"SHAMEFUR DISPRAY!" snapped Frisco. She wasn't sure if this was helping, but she would put her full effort into it regardless.

"Alright, stop." Burrows slapped one giant grease-covered mitt on the cruiser's narrow shoulder. "Your accent is terrible."

"Yeah, I know." Frisco glanced at her toes, her voice slipping back to her natural Cali accent. "You believe me, though?"

"Frisco," Burrows smiled and tousled the cruiser's hair. Or at least tried to, it was so full of knots and salt-stained split-ends he had to fight just to get his hand back.

"I really need defouling," said Frisco.

"That you do," said Burrows.

"Um," Frisco clasped her hands behind her back, her torso slowly yawing from side to side as she pursed her lips nervously, "What were you going to say?"

"That I always knew you were a girl," said Burrows.

"You did?"

Burrows nodded. "You're a cranky bitch who begs for attention whenever I spend five minutes anywhere other than waist-deep in your machinery."

Frisco nodded in agreement.

"But so far," Burrows shrugged, "You've never let me down when it really mattered."

Frisco smiled from ear to ear and hurled herself at her Engineer's chest. Her sinewy arms wrapped around his barrel-chested body, her face burying itself in his thick neck. "You know just how to talk to a girl, you know that?"

"Ah! Frisco," Burrows gagged.

"Huh?"

"When was the last time you took a shower?"

"Um... why?" Frisco offered up her most innocent smile.

"You reek."

Frisco huffed. Dangit!