And chapter ahoy. Didn't get the flashback, will do that later.
Chapter 27
"Ah, Admiral! Welcome back!"
Small smile tugging at his lips, Admiral Schreiber made no moves to step aside as he walked aboard his old command.
Blücher, the youngest cruiser in the Kriegsmarine. A girl who would have been ignominiously sunk by an antique Norwegian fortress. By a torpedo older than most warships in service, fired by a reservist just as old. Not a fitting end for any warship, especially one so
young.
But Schreiber had been there, and he had saved the girl.
The girl who had ran right past the guards standing at attention for the Admiral. A girl who had flung her powerful arms right around the ageing man's middle, hugging him tightly. Even if only enough to let the old Admiral know that she had
missed him.
"It is good to see you again, dear," Schreiber whispered softly, his hand gently mussing her bright pink hair. He was experienced enough by now that only one pair of eyes noticed the movement, and they just rolled fondly in the background. "I missed you as well."
Blücher let out a happy noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr, squeezing herself against the old sailor, "I missed you a lot Admiral. Bismarck had better be treating you well, or I'll give her a piece of my mind!"
Schreiber merely shook his head, an amused chuckle escaping his lips, "I'm sure you will. But for now, we will talk later."
It wasn't really an order, more of a request that Blücher let him go so that he could talk with his old command crew. And he hadn't made it an order, because any officer would know when to not give an order...because he knew it wouldn't be followed. Blücher was no exception. She just shifted her grip, moving instead to laying her head on the Admiral's broad shoulder.
I see that she hasn't changed at all.
Smile not once leaving his face, Schreiber walked past the stoic guard and towards the one man who had his full attention. Blücher walked in lockstep with him, her own bright purple eyes looking between the Admiral and Captain curiously.
"Welcome aboard, Admiral." The latter man snapped off a salute. A proper,
Kaiserliche Marine salute at that.
"Thank you, Captain," Schreiber returned the salute...before walking forward and sticking his hand out to his fellow officer. "And I must say, I am proud of how you have taken care of
Blücher."
There was much more held in those words than it may have seemed. For as the younger man reached his own hand out to take Schreiber's, his eyes looked down on the pink-haired cruiser hanging onto the Admiral's side. The Captain's lips twitched up in an amused smirk, as he shook his head slightly.
"Yes, I have taken good care of her. Even if
Blücher is a bit...temperamental, shall we say."
"Why you..." Blücher's eyes lost their curious tone, narrowing at the Captain. A little growl rumbled in her chest when she stared at him, in fact.
"In fact, I daresay she has never behaved quite the same since you left, Admiral." The Captain continued, completely ignoring the cruiser beyond his smirk twitching further up his face. "I think she misses you."
"Ah, I'm certain she did. After all, I was her first commander." Schreiber gently squeezed the cruiser at his side, eye looking down in a warning glance at Blücher. "Now, I do believe you know why I am here, Captain Lange."
Amusement at Blücher's antics aside, Schreiber was not aboard his old command just to visit. He knew that.
She knew that. And Captain Albrecht Lange knew that, his smirk falling away like it had never even been there. The man let out a soft sigh, lifting his grey cap from his head to scratch at what little brown hair he had. But his eyes never once left the Admiral and Cruiser, all his attention focused on his superior.
"
Ja, I know. Shall we head to the meeting room then?"
Schreiber nodded, "Indeed we should."
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"I see this has not changed since I was last here."
Admiral Schreiber ran a hand along the dull and scratched wood of the meeting table that had been installed aboard Blücher during her short-lived time as flagship of the Norwegian Invasion. It had been at this table he had planned the actions that had saved the cruiser. Here, he had first begun his movements towards saving Germany. And here, he was going to continue those long-term plans.
"If it works, there is no need to replace it. It helps that Blücher is still a flagship when we're not operating with you." Captain Lange, unlike his Admiral, was sitting in the chair at the head of the table. He leaned back in it even, raising an eyebrow at the older man. "Now, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
Smile forming once more, Schreiber shook his head, "I see
you have not changed either."
"It it works..." The Captain repeated himself with a cocky smirk, his eyebrow raising higher on his forehead.
"Yes yes, I know." Shaking his head more, the old Admiral turned to look at Blücher instead of her Captain. "And I assume
you have been well, dear?"
"Of course." Blücher just grinned widely, placing a dainty hand on the white uniform top she wore. Her bulging breasts stretched the fabric enough that a younger man may have been reduced to staring at the young cruiser. An image not helped by the short golden skirt gracing her hips.
But Schreiber was an old man. Furthermore, if Bismarck was a close friend, Blücher was a daughter. A rather problematic child, but one nonetheless.
So he only smiled, returning his attention to the table in front of him, "That is very good to hear. Now, as I am sure both of you are well aware, this is not a courtesy visit."
"I assumed as much." Lange shrugged his broad shoulders.
Schreiber nodded, pulling out a packet of deployment papers and other documents from his briefcase. More importantly, he pulled out a large map of Northern Germany, the locations of every major combatant in the
Kriegsmarine listed. From proud
Scharnhorst to old
Emden. From stoic
Nurnberg to excitable
Prinz Eugen. Perhaps more pertinently, it held the deployment patterns and orders. Straight from Admiral Canaris, the intelligence officer more than willing to help Schreiber.
Even if he didn't really know
why.
Sometimes, using the motivations of these men is helpful...
Sighing softly, the old man pushed the map out fully, and beckoned over his former XO and former command. Lange let out of a sigh of his own, climbing from his seat as the pink-haired Blücher moved over to the map. Curious violet eyes looked from said map, and back to the Admiral. A question was clear on her lips, even before Blücher had opened her mouth.
A question that Schreiber was well-aware of.
"We will be heading out sooner than I had intended." The time-traveler spoke seriously, turning dull blue eyes on both his former subordinates. "I have done what I can to convince
Großadmiral Raeder to delay the operation. But as you are both aware..."
"The
Führer is never easy to convince on something." Lange spoke first, an amused smirk on his face. "Yes, you made
that very clear Admiral."
"As I well should have," Schreiber's own lips twitched despite the situation. A twitch that quickly faded, when he returned his attention to the map. "However, this does cause problems. Bismarck is not truly ready for this."
Neither Lange nor Blücher disputed that point.
"And I had hoped to delay this longer. But the best laid of plans can fail."
Blücher frowned at the way Schreiber's voice lowered at the end, reaching her hand out to tug her Admiral's arm to her. Right between her breasts in fact, the cruiser hugging the limb tightly, "Admiral, you worry too much. I would
never let you fail!"
"I never felt you would." Schreiber smiled at his former command, and didn't make any effort to remove his arm from her chest.
She had
always been like this. The moment that he had revealed how he had come to command her, Blücher had taken it upon herself to protect him. Care for him. It wasn't without reason that he considered her the daughter he had never had. Sometimes, no matter how he cared for Bismarck, the old German found himself wishing he had never left the smaller cruiser.
Bismarck was wonderful, but he missed Blücher.
"Blücher's feelings aside," on the other hand, Captain Lange was much more serious in his own way. "Is this at all like you remember?"
The one, and only, man that Schreiber had confided in. His former XO had been quick to catch onto how he talked to Blücher, and by extension, quick to see the cruiser himself. Schreiber had debated long and hard on how much to tell the younger man...but in the end?
He had told him everything. Perhaps out of a mad desire to have at least
one other man know the truth. Perhaps it had been a mistake. But Albrecht Lange had been appalled at the truth, and sworn to do everything he could to help the old Admiral. Evidently, the man had a half-Jewish wife. If such a thing could even exist, outside of the madhouse that was Nazi Germany.
"Not at all." Schreiber reached out to tap the map, where
Scharnhorst lay alone, being refit after damage incurred at sea. "
Gneisenau was not supposed to be sunk."
"Damn the British," Blücher growled lowly, clenching her Admiral's arm tighter.
Schreiber shook his head, "No, don't blame them. This is a war after all, and we will likely take more than enough British lives as well. Most certainly if the plan is to succeed."
"And you still feel this is the best option?" Lange idly commented, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the Admiral.
"For what it is worth, yes." And the Admiral just stared back, a grey eyebrow raising over the dull blue of his eye. "I truly wish there was another option, but there is
not another option. If we are to save Germany, we must do this."
Lange held his stare for a few seconds, searching the face of his former Captain and current Admiral.
"Hm. Well, I trust you, Admiral. Do we need to make adjustments because of the orders?"
Sighing softly, Schreiber nodded, "Yes. If we are fortunate about anything, it is that
Hood is probably not a factor. If we were to sink that ship, the Royal Navy would never stop hunting us."
And didn't he know
that. Sink the Bismarck...if possible, he wanted to avoid that scenario. The Royal Navy would be hunting him hard enough, sinking their pride would just make things more difficult. Especially for what he wanted to do...
"Well, that's what Prinz and I are for, Admiral." Blücher spoke up with a hint of false cheer in her voice, breaking the time-traveler from his thoughts. "To keep Bismarck safe!"
"And that, I appreciate. Still, I suggest we look over our intelligence and prepare for sortie. It could be sooner than we would like."
Blücher frowned, "Can that at least wait for a little while? I want to spend time with you Admiral. You know I miss you when you don't come by!"
In response, Schreiber moved his free hand to Blücher's head, gently rubbing her pink hair. The cruiser sighed happily, and there was no falsehood to it this time. She leaned into the touch, a small smile crossing her face as her violet eyes shut in complete and utter contentment. Schreiber's own aged features twisted into a happy smile, the soft pink locks running over his hands.
"Yes, I suppose we can. I don't know when there will be another chance like this." The old Admiral whispered, graciously ignoring the way that Blücher's grip on his arm tightened.
"I don't want you to leave...Captain Lange doesn't treat me as well as you do."
A raised eyebrow came from the Captain in question, "I take offense to that remark."
"Only because it's true." Blücher opened one lazy violet eye, sticking her little pink tongue out at the young Captain.
"You wound me, my dear." Lange held a hand to his chest, reeling back as if he had been punched.
Blücher only shut her eye, returning to letting her Admiral pat her head. As tacit a case of ignoring the Captain as there ever was.
And Admiral Schreiber?
He just felt the weight of the world leave his shoulders, if only for a moment. He loved Bismarck...but sometimes, what he truly needed, was a return to simpler times. Where he could just...relax with Blücher and Lange.
He had the feeling moments such as these would be few and far between, in the future.
"In hindsight, I wonder if we thought this through properly."
Admiral Thompson held a hand to his face, wincing at the glare reflecting off the water in front of him. Norfolk was far from a
quick day trip. It had taken a decent amount of time to reach the base, and he was honestly wondering if it wouldn't have been easier to call Stark here than go to meet him first. But complaining would do no good, and that wasn't the issue.
The
issue was the flat look he was getting when he looked out at USS
Skipjack. More appropriately, at Lieutenant Hawkins. The submarine skipper shivered slightly as he saluted the Admirals, clearly unused to the winter weather of the East Coast. Even
that was not the biggest problem.
"I don't see any woman." Admiral King's voice was filled with clear and present annoyance, his expression a full glare when he looked at Thompson.
"She isn't there." Thompson replied, inwardly cursing his luck.
Really, he should have thought that one out. Skipjack was a submarine, of
course she would want to stay inside her hull. He already knew she didn't like to expose herself at the best of times. This was hardly any different, wasn't it?
"I see," at least Stark sounded more curious than angry or annoyed. The CNO turned his eyes on Thompson just for a second, before returning to Skipjack. "I can't say I've been aboard a submarine before. Certainly not one of the new ones."
Admiral Richardson shrugged beside his superior, "I hadn't been aboard one either, until Admiral Thompson suggested I talk to as many of the ships as possible. Skipjack is..."
"Rather shy." The youngest Admiral present replied with a small sigh. "We'll have to go inside to see her. Right, Lieutenant?"
Thompson raised his voice at the end, looking directly at where Hawkins stood atop the submarine's conning tower. The younger man looked back at the Admiral, nodding his own head.
"The Admiral is right. Skip won't come up here, and believe me, I tried."
Alone among the Admirals, Stark smiled slightly, "Well, if that is what it takes. I hope you can prove what you are claiming, Admirals."
Nothing more was said, as the CNO- trailed closely by a sour King -walked down the gangplank to board Skipjack. Thompson and Richardson followed, albeit at a slower pace. Both of the Pacific Admirals shared a look, no words travelling between them. But then, no words were needed. They both knew exactly what was at stake here.
Exactly what would happen, if Skipjack couldn't make herself known.
And we're relying on a submarine
to make herself known...
Shaking his head, Thompson climbed up the conning tower, only stopping long enough to nod at Hawkins before moving inside the sub's hull. The tight confines had become more familiar than he would have thought, and made the Admiral wish they were doing this aboard Sara. Or even Utah. But in lieu of either of those options being available...Skipjack it was.
"I have a new appreciation for submariners." Admiral Stark's voice echoed up the ladder, as Thompson slowly lowered himself down into what served as the submarines CIC. A tight, confined space with barely enough room to really move around past crew stations.
"I felt the same way," Thompson replied, gingerly lowering himself to the flood as his eyes scanned for the elusive submarine. "Granted, I command the biggest ship in the Navy."
King twitched at those words, but it was quickly covered by a renewed glare, "Well, we're here. Where's this elusive woman you claim to be here?"
"Good question, Ernest," Stark nodded at his old friend, his own eyes scanning the area behind round glasses. "I don't see anyone but ourselves, here."
Indeed, even Skipjack's usual crew complement was ashore enjoying much needed shore leave. Only a handful of crew were aboard, maintaining the submarine and keeping her occupied. These men were spread throughout the sub, leaving just the Admirals and Lieutenant Hawkins standing in the CIC. No sign of...the...
"Skip, get out here," Hawkins groaned with a hint of annoyance in his voice, the man having dropped down easily behind Admiral Thompson. "I know you're there."
Thompson did as well, having seen a flash of red fabric. A flash that coalesced into an equally red-faced teenage girl, slinking into the room. Her short hair didn't do much to cover her face, anymore than her old one-piece did to cover her wide hips. The submarine hadn't put on a uniform, which really wasn't surprising. Getting a submarine into
any sort of uniform was difficult at the best of times.
Which was going to be wonderful, if the
CNO of the Navy saw her like that.
Well, better than nothing...?
Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, Thompson walked up to Skipjack, the submarine staring up at him with wide brown eyes. Even now, she was still uncomfortable at best with the Admiral. That may never change.
But they couldn't deal with her shyness right now.
"Skip, say hello to Admiral Stark and Admiral King." Thompson still gave her a gentle smile, reaching out to pat the girl on the shoulder, as he moved aside enough to let the older men into sight.
"H-hello?" Skip spoke up hesitantly, her voice shaking when she looked at the old men. "My god, the
CNO. Admiral, I'm not ready for this!"
The somewhat panicked shout would have worked better to get attention,
if either King or Stark could hear her.
But...
"I don't see, or hear anything." King's sour voice made it clear that he
couldn't hear her. The man crossed his arms over his chest, raising an annoyed eyebrow at Thompson. "Well? Anything to say to that?"
"I didn't expect it to be that easy." Thompson replied, turning just enough away from Skipjack to keep her in view, while also looking at Richardson, as of yet silent. "Admiral?"
Letting out a soft sigh, Richardson turned to his subordinate and superior, "Strictly speaking, neither of us did. I was only able to perceive Utah after she lifted Commander Jackson into the air. And I had gone aboard the old girl
expecting the fact that she may be there."
Admiral Stark nodded thoughtfully, tapping his chin gently as his foot bounced up and down, "Hm. So, would I be correct in assuming that unless Ernest or myself
believed that Skipjack could talk to us, we will not be able to hear or see her?"
While it wasn't something that Thompson wanted to admit, the time traveler nodded, "Accurate. Every case we have, other than Admiral Richardson, has come from someone who cares about their ship. I...I know it's a lot of faith. There isn't any way to realistically replicate or prove results when they rely on feelings like that."
"Beyond showing that as many cases as possible." Richardson finished, removing his glasses to rub at them gently. His voice never stopped speaking as he did so, "And it does depend, on some level, on one being open minded enough. Are you that open-minded, Harold?"
It was the first time that Richardson had used Stark's first name, and it was a sign of just how serious the man was. Even if he didn't actually show it, his stoic features the same as ever. For his part, Stark looked skeptical. His eyes trailed over Richardson, Thompson, and the spot where Skipjack
should have been. Where she was. But his eyes quickly moved on...
Clearly not able to see even an outline of the submarine.
"I would like to believe I am," the CNO spoke softly. His expression was pensive though, "But I'm not seeing anything to convince me this is not some elaborate prank or hallucination."
"Why don't you have her
pick you up then," King was rather less soft in his disbelief. He just continued to cross his arms over his chest.
And it was a snide comment, considering there just wasn't
space. Even if Skipjack could wrap her arms around someone, there wasn't...enough...
This is crazy, but...
Thompson turned to look at the submarine, lowering himself to Skipjack's level, "Skip, I'm going to ask you to do something. This won't be easy, but you need to do it."
"Anything!" The sub was quick to reply, staring up at the Admiral.
"Punch me. Right in the face."
The room went completely silent, save for the dull creaks and rattles of water brushing against Skipjack's hull. The submarine stared at Thompson with impossibly large brown eyes, unable to believe what she had been asked. Thompson stared right back, entirely serious in both words and expression. Richardson merely raised an eyebrow in the background.
Stark frowned, "You can't be serious."
"He isn't." King was quick to speak up, per usual. "Why would that have any impact..."
"
You suggested she pick me up, despite there not being enough space in here." Thompson shot back, more heat in his voice than he may have intended when he glared at the infamous Admiral. "Since I can't very well have her slam me into the bulkhead, this is the next best option. They can't touch someone who isn't at least
somewhat able to hear them. It has to be me."
Skip, for her part, squeaked out, "But I can't hit an Admiral!"
"It's an
order Skip."
Thompson never thought he would ever order a ship girl to punch him in the jaw. But desperate times...
"I'm sorry!"
Called for desperate measures. Skipjack's fist lashed out, a mean right-hook directly to the Admiral's jaw. Thompson grunted slightly, rocking back on his heels with the force of the impact. His jaw
ached with the force of a ship girl punch, the man already regretting his choice. Might have been a better idea to have her hug him...
But as he spun away form the submarine, a bruise already forming on his face, it did the job it needed to do. His hands had been by his sides. There had been no
human by his side. Thompson had been standing completely alone, and suddenly- to King and Stark -fell back, with a bruise on his jaw and his legs buckling from an impact they couldn't see. It was a bad idea. A crazy one that hadn't been thought out.
And yet...
"Admiral..." Stark coughed, forcing his voice back into some semblance of stoicism when he stared at Thompson with slightly widened eyes. "You just fell back. And have a bruise."
"I do." Thompson winced at the pulling on his jaw, "Ow..."
Skip looked up at him worryingly when the Admiral did that, "I didn't punch too hard, did I?"
"Don't worry Skip, I'm fine." The time traveler sent her a small smile, before turning back to Stark. "Well? That hurt, and I hope it's enough to at least give you an idea we aren't lying."
Stark could only frown, rubbing at his forehead in what Thompson recognized now as a sign of nerves, "I don't know, Admiral. You were clearly hit by something- or someone -I can't see. Is that Skipjack? I can't say..."
"Harold, you can't possibly..." King tried to protest, only for the CNO to send his friend a flat look that had even King slam his mouth shut.
"I never said I did believe it, not entirely. But..." sighing again, the old Admiral looked at Thompson with appraising eyes. "You've convinced me, at the least, that
something is going on here. I can't see anyone, but there is clearly
something here. I...I will take this to the Secretary. He may take it to the President. I suggest you come up with a better way than physical harm to demonstrate your point."
Turning to leave, Stark looked over his shoulder. The smallest of smiles crossed his face when he did so, the man giving one parting statement.
"I would hate to see someone dedicated enough to let a woman punch his face be drummed out of the service."
And nothing more was said, the CNO moving to climb back up the ladder. Thompson could only watch him go, idly rubbing at his sore jaw. King followed after Stark, sending his own annoyed look back even as Skipjack walked up and stared at the harsh man curiously.
It was only once both Admirals were gone, that she turned back to Thompson and Richardson, a worried look on her face.
"Did that work?" She asked, clearly concerned.
Thompson just shrugged, "Honestly, I don't know. I...
hope it did."
"As I'm sure we all do." Richardson nodded, though he sent a sidelong glance at his subordinate, "And, you had her punch you in the face. Nothing else occurred to you, Thompson?"
The young man's face flushed, putting the bruise into sharp relief, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Richardson's flat look never once went away, even as Skipjack started giggling. Hawkins' good-natured chuckles joined those of his command, while the youngest Admiral in the world just sighed, looking down at his feet. Yeah...probably not his best idea ever. But if it had worked, it wasn't stupid right? If it's stupid but it works...
Well. It's still stupid.
Damn.
"At least it go..."
Before Thompson could finish his sentence, an annoyed shout echoed down into the conning tower from the outside of Skipjack's hull.
"Where is my wallet?!"
King's distinctive voice was...distinctive in it's rage. Almost as one, all eyes turned to Skipjack, who whistled innocently, her hands behind her back.
"What?"
Yes, I had her steal King's wallet because people suggested it 
At any rate, chapter.
Blücher is fun for me to write. Granted, she was my favorite of the Hipper-class before KC/WSG was a thing- remember, I tend to prefer those ships that aren't well-known. It
does help that her WSG design is one of the better ones, IMO.
If only because Blücher a cute. And she's a great example of how the girls develop in personality and such from their interactions and time in service. When Schreiber first came back, she was somewhat like Bisko. Now?
Yeah.
I do plan on having her hang around as much as possible, because she
is my favorite cruiser.
Also...
Since I once again stayed up entirely too late working on this, my brain has lodged in my muse the idea of possibly taking the Lexie snip from after the last chapter, and making a quest out of it.
Y/N? Sky Stop With Random Ideas? Sky's Muse is High as a Kite?
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((joking aside, time for me to get some sleep. And figure out if I actually want to make Time-Traveler!Lexie!Quest))
