Ramble
[Verified 'Murican]
- Location
- America
3 lewd 5 meReally, speaking of buttons coming out at supersonic speeds...
What would @Battleship_Fusou think?
Changing Destiny (Kancolle)
- Thread starter Skywalker_T-65
- Start date
What would @Battleship_Fusou think?
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Yes, we need to stick to Sara.
That way you have more bullying material.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Yes, we need to stick to Sara.
That way you have more bullying material.
Yes, bully the Sky.
- Location
- Barcelona, Catalunya, EU (for now)
Heh. It doesn't help I post pics of my waifu both here and in the SB!BB thread.
But I feel I don't over post pics, so that should not be cause for annoyance.
Battleship_Fusou
(The Itty-Bitty Pretty Battleship Kitty)
- Location
- Surigao Strait
*looks to the side and blushes*
- Location
- Barcelona, Catalunya, EU (for now)
Lady, you know how to troll Sky.
Is there a full size version of that cosplay attire?
EDIT: Never mind.
Is there a full size version of that cosplay attire?
EDIT: Never mind.
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Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Where's that picture of Sara pulling an Angels with Filthy Souls reference...
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
... holy crap, there's more than one.
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
Already posted it.
Heh.
Is 4 pages back, but I'll be merciful and post it again.
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Chapter 32
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
This...this one was difficult. Very, extremely, highly...difficult. Suffice to say that writing a certain someone is not easy. Hell, I don't even know if this makes sense the way I wrote it because there is so little information on his personal life to work with. This is before he lost it at the end of the war though, so that at least wasn't an option. What I settled on from the information I could find...
Well, hopefully it worked.
Even if I feel a little sick writing it.
The sound of men bustling about a crowded hotel lobby was one that should have been quite normal. Even in wartime Europe, Germany was still a nation where men and women could go where they pleased- so long as they were of proper Aryan blood at any rate. And many of them would go to hotels.
But in this case, that was not true as one old man stared at the hand presented in front of him to shake.
"Congratulations are in order, Admiral. Bismarck is finally ready for service."
Admiral Schreiber wore a small smile as he nodded at Admiral Raeder, "Ja. She will not disappoint, I am certain of that."
"Of course. You know what failure will do, after all." Raeder's smile was every bit as thin as Schreiber's...and every bit as faked.
Both men likely knew that the other one was faking their smile. If for entirely different reasons in this case.
Schreiber didn't let his drop though, even after Raeder gave him a short nod and moved away. His superior had likely worn his false smile to emphasize to the time-traveler that failure would mean the end of the Kriegsmarine. Schreiber wore his own for a much different cause, his eyes trailing over the men gathered in the repurposed hotel lobby. Nazi uniforms from both the navy and the SS littered the area. A celebration of and for Bismarck, the pride of the Navy. One that had been planned as a stroke of propaganda to make up for the loss of Gneisenau and Admiral Lütjens to the British. A loss that had stung many in Germany and one that Schreiber had not expected.
And a loss that had made this gathering possible for another reason.
A warning. A warning that if I should fail, I will not be returning.
Death or glory.
Well, Schreiber could hardly say he wasn't expecting something like that. Failure in his own plans was never an option, and that it was an official warning now hardly changed that at all. He couldn't fail, not at his own goals or at the mission given to him by the Nazi command. To fail was to die.
He knew that better than anyone, as the sound of footsteps echoed in his ears.
"Admiral, if you would follow me please?"
Schreiber turned his head, his small smile turning distinctly brittle. He didn't recognize the man in front of him and it was entirely possible that man didn't recognize him either. But the stylized SS on his uniform lapel told the old Admiral everything he needed to know.
"Of course," Schreiber inclined his head slightly, turning fully to face the young man in an SS uniform. "I presume you have a reason for asking this?"
The SS officer's face twisted into a smile of his own, one that had Schreiber distinctly uncomfortable, "Just following my orders, Herr Admiral. Please, follow me."
Without another word, the SS officer spun on his heel and started marching towards the group of dignitaries. The sharp clack of his boots on the flooring was loud and distinctive.
It sent a chill down Schreiber's spine with each step.
This was something that he had never forgotten. The sound of boots stomping in formation down a road, men in uniforms that were tightly fit and marked them as part of a government that cared nothing for her citizens. Oh yes, it was safe to say the Admiral was quite familiar with that sound as he followed the SS officer. It didn't matter if it was the hated sound of the SS or of the Nationale Volksarmee marching through his hometown. It was always the same.
Schreiber's brittle smile was directed at men congratulating him on successfully making Bismarck and Blücher into proper warships. His own footsteps much softer than the goose-step of the SS officer. His slow breaths kept as steady as if he was with either of his warships.
All done to cover the very real nerves running through his body as he slipped through the crowd of congratulatory men, and reached a place where only a handful of older men stood. Each of them, save for one, staring at him with varying degrees of emotion. Congratulatory smiles were present, as were suspicious and jealous glances. Even similarly small and false smiles as his own were represented. All, that is, save for one man who had his back to the Admiral. Staring out at where Bismarck and Blücher sat at rest in the harbor.
"I have retrieved Admiral Schreiber as requested, sir." The SS man drew attention back to himself, as he stood at attention beside the shorter man staring at the warships.
"Then you are dismissed, Obersturmführer."
Schreiber would recognize the voice that spoke those words anywhere, even if the tone were softer and lacked the angry raging he was familiar with. For as the man turned around to face him…
The Admiral stared into the dark eyes of one of the greatest monsters in human history.
"Welcome, Admiral Schreiber. I believe this is the first time we have met?" That oily voice spoke again, lips twitching beneath a small moustache. Dark eyes boring directly into the time-traveler, observing him and looking for even the slightest hesitation.
"It is an honor to meet you...Mein Führer."
It was safe to say this was the meeting of meetings that Schreiber had long been dreading. Meeting Adolf Hitler in person, the surprisingly average looking man staring directly into his eyes. The madness that Hitler was infamous for was hardly present in the dark depths that Schreiber's own vision focused on.
No.
If anything, Hitler's eyes hid a sharp intelligence. This was a man in the prime of his career, one who had positioned himself at the head of the German state through guile and raw charisma. Not a wreck of a man hopped up on drugs and falling apart at the seams.
A man I cannot underestimate.
"Tell me Admiral."
Hitler's voice, so unlike the recording of his speeches, spoke up again. The thin tone of his voice had probably surprised many a man who met him in person.
"Do you believe that Bismarck is ready to sail?"
Schreiber squared his shoulders and tried to ignore the slight shaking in his arms, "Yes, I do. I understand that Admiral Raeder has wanted this mission to begin sooner, however, I believed it prudent to take the time to prepare Bismarck."
If there was anything he could not do in this situation, it was insult Hitler's intelligence. That way lead down a dark and painful path.
"I see." The Führer made no outward sign of how he felt about that. "You are aware of how expensive Bismarck has been for the Reich."
It wasn't worded as a question.
"I am," the time traveling Admiral softly replied. This had been what he worried about.
"Then you are aware that if this mission should fail, the Kriegsmarine has been nothing but a waste of money and resources better spent on defeating our true enemy in the East." It was only now that Hitler's voice began to change in tone. Growing ever harsher and more like the familiar sound of his speeches. "I will not stand for failure. Admiral Raeder has told me that Bismarck is the most powerful battleship in the world and I have chosen to believe him. Was he lying to me, Admiral Schreiber?"
How to answer that question?
Bismarck was far from the most powerful battleship in the world. True, Yamato and Iowa were still a ways away from completion. True, Bismarck was larger than any battleship in Europe. However, she was still not remotely the most powerful battleship on Earth. And Schreiber could never voice that knowledge out loud, or he would be shooting himself in the proverbial foot. Especially with Adolf Hitler staring at him expectantly.
"She is, Mein Führer." Schreiber lied through his teeth, nodding out at the distant form of Bismarck visible through the hotel doors. "However…"
"However?"
Hitler's single word allowed for no argument. And Schreiber knew that better than anyone.
"I believed, from my experience in Norway, that aircraft may have been a potential danger."
As he said that, Schreiber barely turned his head away from Hitler's expectant eyes. Only enough to nod at one of the men in the larger group, a rather portly man staring at the Admiral with an annoyed expression on his face. Considering who it was, that probably wasn't very surprising. Certainly not to the time-traveler who stared at the heavyset officer with a single eyebrow climbing up his face.
"Marshall Goering and the Luftwaffe have demonstrated quite conclusively the potential of air power. While the British air forces are far from the equal of our own, I believed that improving Bismarck's defenses was the prudent option to take." Schreiber turned his head back to Hitler, electing to ignore the way Goering perked up like a peacock strutting his feathers. "And that is why I made the suggestions I have. To truly have Bismarck become the most powerful of all battleships."
And to make certain she survives.
Schreiber did not voice that thought aloud, as he looked at Adolf Hitler. The leader of Germany stared right back, his only action being to raise a hand to his chin and slowly rub it in thought. Not once did his gaze move from Schreiber. Not once did Hitler give any sign of what he actually thought.
No.
The Nazi leader merely stared at the Admiral, his next words barely above a whisper. And all the more terrifying for that.
"You want me to believe that Bismarck, the pride of the Reich and a warship that cost enough money and materials to outfit a Panzer division, was vulnerable to aircraft?"
Those words would have sent lesser men stuttering to apologize and say that no, they didn't actually mean that. Attempting to suck up to Hitler and get out of any possible punishment even if it meant losing their career.
To Schreiber that was never an option. He needed to be right where he was, and nothing could change that fact. Yet, even he felt his shoulders shake and a line of sweat run down his face. He knew better than anyone what it meant, to upset Adolf Hitler.
"I-I believe that any warship can be vulnerable to aircraft, Mein Führer." Schreiber's hands clenched by his side as he internally cursed that stutter.
Apparently, even he was unable to completely quell the sense of danger that soft-spoken words from the monster in front of him brought up.
And Hitler just stared at him, silently watching the Admiral for any signs of...something. Schreiber could do nothing more than just square his shoulders and attempt to ignore the feeling of Hitler's eyes, and that of the rest of the Nazi leadership, observing him. Something easier said than done as he felt another line of sweat roll down his cheek.
I begin to understand exactly what people have said about this man.
"Herr Admiral."
The time traveler stiffened so sharply he felt his back ache, as Hitler turned away from him and walked over to the doors leading out of the hotel. And to the sight of Bismarck resting at anchor in the distance. The Führer's footsteps were sharp and steady, those of a man who knew he was in charge and had absolutely no problems with proving it. His entire body reflected this. Relaxed and completely free of any of the stress that had Schreiber standing so rigidly at attention. The man was insane, but at this moment, he showed none of that.
"Your honesty impresses me." Hitler continued, his back remaining to Schreiber as he spoke. His voice remained thin, but it had lost the soft and dangerous quality. "Admiral Raeder would have given excuses for the delay in time and told me what I wanted to hear. You, however, told me exactly what you believed."
Still, Hitler did not turn away from Bismarck. He remained in the exact same position.
"I had believed you a fool to try and delay Bismarck's mission, knowing what happened to that Jew-loving Admiral I foolishly allowed command of Gneisenau."
"I would-"
Whatever Schreiber could have said was cut off. Hitler needed to merely raise one of his hands, without doing anything further, to make the Admiral stop talking.
Out of worry more than any level of respect.
"You are likely not aware of this, Herr Admiral, but I am a man who values honesty. Too often I find my subordinates telling me what they want me to hear, instead of the truth. Admiral Raeder focused on the damage done to Hood instead of telling me he lost Gneisenau."
Hitler's hand slowly lowered, and Schreiber tensed despite himself. What now?
"As such, it is quite refreshing to have a man who knows what he is talking about and is not afraid to make his point." Hitler's shoulders squared, as he called out a single name. "Bormann!"
Schreiber couldn't stop the flinch, as the square-faced Bormann walked up to Hitler. The man held a small box in his hands that he handed over to the Führer.
It was only once this box was in hand, that Hitler turned around and faced Schreiber. A thin smile across his face. A smile that had Schreiber fighting down the urge to throw up his last meal. It was a genuine smile, if a thin and small one.
A genuine smile from Adolf Hitler.
"I had planned to award you this after the operation in Norway. Your actions with Bismarck brought up questions of your loyalty, however." Hitler walked up to Schreiber, box in hand and smile on his face. It was only when he stopped right in front of the Admiral that he continued speaking. "Questions I am pleased to see proven wrong. Admiral Gustav Schreiber, I hereby award you the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves for your service aboard Blücher."
And with those words Hitler opened the little oak box. Revealing the dark black Knight's Cross with the Oak Leaf decoration atop it. Schreiber could only reach out and take the box from the Führer's hands, despite the feelings it brought up in him. An award. A Nazi award, handed to him by Hitler himself. What was he supposed to feel about that?
What could he feel about it?
"A final word, Admiral." The Führer's voice spoke up one last time.
Schreiber looked at the leader of the Nazi Party, dark eyes once more staring into his own. The thin smile on Hitler's face turned even thinner, lips pressed tightly together underneath his distinctive moustache.
"If Bismarck fails, I will hold you personally responsible. Am I understood?"
Suddenly feeling as if the award in his hand was a rope around his neck, Admiral Schreiber nodded ever so slowly, "Yes, Mein Führer.
"Admiral, are you not well? You look sick!"
Blücher's panicked words barely registered with Schreiber as he stumbled into the Admiral's quarters aboard her hull. His pale face felt cold to the point that even her breath brushing against it sent a shiver down his spine. Schreiber could barely keep himself upright long enough to reach his temporary bed and even then he fell face-first atop it the moment he reached the cushions. The Admiral's entire body felt shaken, his nerve shot to ribbons and back. It had taken everything he had to not throw up when he had reached his loyal warship.
Hitler congratulating me. Smiling at me like an old friend.
It made him sick to his stomach to even think about it. As well it should.
"Admiral?" Blücher hesitantly walked up to her Admiral, pink hair fluttering around her face. Her violet eyes worriedly looked over the older man while her hands twisted and turned in her short golden skirt.
Schreiber slowly rolled onto his side, staring up at his cruiser with a weak smile on his aged face, "You worry, don't you Blücher?"
"Of course I do!" If it were possible to look both worried and affronted at the same time, Blücher pulled it off. Her teeth worried at her pink lips as she looked down on her Admiral. "Sir, what happened out there? I've never seen you like this before!"
A weary laugh answered that question. Admiral Schreiber fully turned over, laying on his back and turning his eyes up the ceiling of his quarters. His lined face twisted into a brittle smile that probably had Blücher even more worried about him. Not that he could really blame her in this case. He would be worried about himself if there were no context for how he was acting.
"I met the Führer, Blücher." Schreiber's voice was tired when he finally spoke again. So very tired…
"Oh."
The pink haired cruiser settled down on the bed by her Admiral's still form. Blücher's shapely stern precariously balanced on the edge as her hand left her skirt and moved to settle atop her Admiral's. Gently squeezing the larger limb in a caring way that Bismarck had never quite been able to mimic. Oh what had he done to deserve the way she cared for him?
"What did he say, Admiral?" Blücher's voice was barely above a whisper while her fingers gently rubbed along the top of Schreiber's hand.
"What did he not say," Schreiber's words were bitter as bad wine. "A warning that if we fail, I will take the blame for it. Questioning why I chose to modify Bismarck before our operation."
Blücher nodded slowly, violet eyes filled with understanding. "You know we won't let that happen Admiral. Bismarck is a bit new, but she's great. And you have me with you too! When have I ever let you down? Even a little bit?"
Even if it was only a little bit, the wide and goofy smile on her face brought peace to Schreiber's rattled soul. Blücher always did have that way around him, like a favored daughter doing her best to keep her father happy. She lived to see him smile sometimes. And she always was able to make him smile too.
Admittedly though, that may have just been his own perspective.
"Yes, Blücher, you always have been there for me." Schreiber squeezed her hand back, the brittle smile on his face strengthening if only a little. "Sometimes I do wonder what I would do without you."
Blücher just grinned at him, "Well of course you do. You would be completely lost if I wasn't here Admiral, and we both know that!"
Well, she wasn't wrong. Blücher always could raise his spirits. And Schreiber truly did love her like a daughter that he spoiled rotten and not a warship that was one of the best cruisers in the world.
"This is true." Even so, Schreiber could hardly stop a small sigh from escaping his lips. His eyes returned the ceiling, the Admiral reflecting on the real reason he was upset. "However, it wasn't the warning that left me like this."
"Then what was it?" The cruiser tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy, an image hardly helped by her searchlight-headset.
Schreiber sighed once more, "Hitler treated me as a trusted colleague. He smiled at me, and gave me an award for Norway. Can you even imagine what it feels like to have that monster congratulate me and say he values my honesty?"
The old Admiral clenched his free fist, wishing for nothing more than having punched the monster in his moustached face. Or to have pulled the trigger on his service pistol. Or pulled his Kaiserliche Marine dirk, a present from the 'Jew loving' Lütjens and thrust it into Hitler's black heart like a hero slaying a dragon. Those and many darker thoughts had gone through his mind when he was with the Nazi leader and it had taken herculean effort to not do it anyway. Ended the life of the worst man in modern history by his own hands.
"I wanted nothing more than to kill him at that moment, Blücher. I wanted to tear him apart, even though I know that it would just end with me dead and Germany no better off. I still wanted to kill that bastard with my own hands."
It had only been the worried face staring at him at this very moment and the knowledge that not only would Blücher and Bismarck suffer- along with the rest of the fleet -but that the Nazi Party would survive their leader that had stayed his hand. And the fact that, if anything, the war would become more brutal with a man like Himmler potentially in power. Could he really justify throwing his own life away like that, for something that would do no real good in the long run? Hitler had done more harm to Germany than aid in the end.
As hard as it is, I must stay the course I have chosen. I have no other choice.
"Oh Admiral…"
If Blücher cared about his words or not was an open question. Schreiber still let out a shocked gasp when he was suddenly knocked to the bed, a soft body pressed into his own. Warm and wet tears falling on his shoulder. And the smell of flowers and steel filling his nostrils, as he felt Blücher's body shake in his arms, her grip on his back so tight his spine creaked.
"Blücher?" The old man gently whispered, rubbing his hands along the lean back of the heavy cruiser.
"You shouldn't have to feel like that. Damnit all, you shouldn't have to!" Blücher's voice shook every bit as hard as her body, quaking like a tree in the wind inside Schreiber's loose hug. "Admiral, I don't care what I have to do but I'm going to help you! I'm going to make you smile again!"
Perhaps she couldn't see it, but Schreiber already felt a small twitch of his lips. "Blücher, you have already done so much for me. Surely you must know that."
"It isn't enough. I want to leave my hull and go fight them in person. That way you don't have to."
Perhaps, Schreiber reflected, Blücher was more like a cruiser than he had thought. It was very much like a cruiser to want to attack a problem head on and protect her charge. Or in this case, he ruefully acknowledged, her Admiral. Maybe even her father figure.
"You don't need to do that. This is my burden and I will bear it." Schreiber's voice had lowered in pitch, barely audible as he moved his hand to stroke the cruiser's long pink hair. "That you are here for me is more than enough, I assure you."
It was only when he spoke those words that Blücher pulled away from his shoulder. The cruiser's violet eyes were red-rimmed as they looked into his blue, searching for any sign of deception.
She wouldn't find any. Schreiber was being completely honest, and in all honesty, he had never once told a lie to Blücher. Much as he trusted Bismarck with his life, Blücher was the first to know his story and she had stuck by his side ever since. Schreiber frankly couldn't lie to her, not now and not ever. She was his most trusted confidant and friend. His adoptive daughter in all but name.
"I see," the cruiser nodded slowly. Her wary smile returned to her face, even as her arms refused to leave their grip on the tired old Admiral. "Well, it may be enough for you Admiral."
Head falling back down, Blücher let out a soft little sigh of her own as she landed atop his shoulder. Her breath ghosting across Schreiber's cheek as she held him tightly and wouldn't let go even a little bit.
"But not for me." Blücher's words were filled with Germanic conviction, the stubbornness that only a warship of the Reich could muster suffusing each individual syllable.
"Hm?"
All his loyal warship did was shake her head, her pink hair falling across his cheek. "I've already talked with Bismarck. We're going to find a way to leave our hulls if it kills us. And then we're going to take the fight right to them. I won't let anyone hurt you Admiral, no matter what I have to do to stop it! I promise that."
Blücher's overprotectiveness brought a small, sad, smile to Schreiber's face. It was all he could do to not try and correct her. Surely there was no way for them to leave their hulls? And even if they could, what could a handful of ship girls hope to do to the might of the Nazi Party? Part of him wanted to tell her that. He really, truly did with all his heart want to see Blücher happy.
And that was why he held his tongue, settling instead for softly rubbing her back as he looked up and saw Captain Lange leaning at the door into the Admiral's quarters.
"I won't say anything, Admiral."
Schreiber could see those words in his expression, even if the Captain chose- just for one time -to not try and get a rise out of his cruiser. No. Lange was entirely serious as he stared into Schreiber's blue eyes, a non-vocalized question lingering on his thinly pressed lips.
A question that the Admiral answered with a small nod of his head.
"It is time, Captain. Finish the preparations before I return to Bismarck."
Lange nodded himself, quietly shutting the door to the quarters as he left to prepare Blücher for the sortie. Something that had Schreiber looking out the small porthole of the room, the pink haired cruiser melting into his grip as she held him protectively. It was time. Time to finally put the second phase of his long plan into action.
I will become a villain to the British people if I must. I will sink old friends if I must. But I have to prove my worth to Germany. Become a hero to the German people.
Schreiber sighed heavily as the weight of his mission pressed down on his shoulders.
I must be a hero. I have no hope of succeeding if I do not.
At least developing more of Blücher's character was fun. She really is the most stubbornly overprotective ship girl I think I've ever written. And rather clingy.
But yeah.
Writing Hitler makes me feel dirty and not in the fun way.
Also, 191 pages O_O
Well, hopefully it worked.
Even if I feel a little sick writing it.
Chapter 32
The sound of men bustling about a crowded hotel lobby was one that should have been quite normal. Even in wartime Europe, Germany was still a nation where men and women could go where they pleased- so long as they were of proper Aryan blood at any rate. And many of them would go to hotels.
But in this case, that was not true as one old man stared at the hand presented in front of him to shake.
"Congratulations are in order, Admiral. Bismarck is finally ready for service."
Admiral Schreiber wore a small smile as he nodded at Admiral Raeder, "Ja. She will not disappoint, I am certain of that."
"Of course. You know what failure will do, after all." Raeder's smile was every bit as thin as Schreiber's...and every bit as faked.
Both men likely knew that the other one was faking their smile. If for entirely different reasons in this case.
Schreiber didn't let his drop though, even after Raeder gave him a short nod and moved away. His superior had likely worn his false smile to emphasize to the time-traveler that failure would mean the end of the Kriegsmarine. Schreiber wore his own for a much different cause, his eyes trailing over the men gathered in the repurposed hotel lobby. Nazi uniforms from both the navy and the SS littered the area. A celebration of and for Bismarck, the pride of the Navy. One that had been planned as a stroke of propaganda to make up for the loss of Gneisenau and Admiral Lütjens to the British. A loss that had stung many in Germany and one that Schreiber had not expected.
And a loss that had made this gathering possible for another reason.
A warning. A warning that if I should fail, I will not be returning.
Death or glory.
Well, Schreiber could hardly say he wasn't expecting something like that. Failure in his own plans was never an option, and that it was an official warning now hardly changed that at all. He couldn't fail, not at his own goals or at the mission given to him by the Nazi command. To fail was to die.
He knew that better than anyone, as the sound of footsteps echoed in his ears.
"Admiral, if you would follow me please?"
Schreiber turned his head, his small smile turning distinctly brittle. He didn't recognize the man in front of him and it was entirely possible that man didn't recognize him either. But the stylized SS on his uniform lapel told the old Admiral everything he needed to know.
"Of course," Schreiber inclined his head slightly, turning fully to face the young man in an SS uniform. "I presume you have a reason for asking this?"
The SS officer's face twisted into a smile of his own, one that had Schreiber distinctly uncomfortable, "Just following my orders, Herr Admiral. Please, follow me."
Without another word, the SS officer spun on his heel and started marching towards the group of dignitaries. The sharp clack of his boots on the flooring was loud and distinctive.
It sent a chill down Schreiber's spine with each step.
This was something that he had never forgotten. The sound of boots stomping in formation down a road, men in uniforms that were tightly fit and marked them as part of a government that cared nothing for her citizens. Oh yes, it was safe to say the Admiral was quite familiar with that sound as he followed the SS officer. It didn't matter if it was the hated sound of the SS or of the Nationale Volksarmee marching through his hometown. It was always the same.
Schreiber's brittle smile was directed at men congratulating him on successfully making Bismarck and Blücher into proper warships. His own footsteps much softer than the goose-step of the SS officer. His slow breaths kept as steady as if he was with either of his warships.
All done to cover the very real nerves running through his body as he slipped through the crowd of congratulatory men, and reached a place where only a handful of older men stood. Each of them, save for one, staring at him with varying degrees of emotion. Congratulatory smiles were present, as were suspicious and jealous glances. Even similarly small and false smiles as his own were represented. All, that is, save for one man who had his back to the Admiral. Staring out at where Bismarck and Blücher sat at rest in the harbor.
"I have retrieved Admiral Schreiber as requested, sir." The SS man drew attention back to himself, as he stood at attention beside the shorter man staring at the warships.
"Then you are dismissed, Obersturmführer."
Schreiber would recognize the voice that spoke those words anywhere, even if the tone were softer and lacked the angry raging he was familiar with. For as the man turned around to face him…
The Admiral stared into the dark eyes of one of the greatest monsters in human history.
"Welcome, Admiral Schreiber. I believe this is the first time we have met?" That oily voice spoke again, lips twitching beneath a small moustache. Dark eyes boring directly into the time-traveler, observing him and looking for even the slightest hesitation.
"It is an honor to meet you...Mein Führer."
It was safe to say this was the meeting of meetings that Schreiber had long been dreading. Meeting Adolf Hitler in person, the surprisingly average looking man staring directly into his eyes. The madness that Hitler was infamous for was hardly present in the dark depths that Schreiber's own vision focused on.
No.
If anything, Hitler's eyes hid a sharp intelligence. This was a man in the prime of his career, one who had positioned himself at the head of the German state through guile and raw charisma. Not a wreck of a man hopped up on drugs and falling apart at the seams.
A man I cannot underestimate.
"Tell me Admiral."
Hitler's voice, so unlike the recording of his speeches, spoke up again. The thin tone of his voice had probably surprised many a man who met him in person.
"Do you believe that Bismarck is ready to sail?"
Schreiber squared his shoulders and tried to ignore the slight shaking in his arms, "Yes, I do. I understand that Admiral Raeder has wanted this mission to begin sooner, however, I believed it prudent to take the time to prepare Bismarck."
If there was anything he could not do in this situation, it was insult Hitler's intelligence. That way lead down a dark and painful path.
"I see." The Führer made no outward sign of how he felt about that. "You are aware of how expensive Bismarck has been for the Reich."
It wasn't worded as a question.
"I am," the time traveling Admiral softly replied. This had been what he worried about.
"Then you are aware that if this mission should fail, the Kriegsmarine has been nothing but a waste of money and resources better spent on defeating our true enemy in the East." It was only now that Hitler's voice began to change in tone. Growing ever harsher and more like the familiar sound of his speeches. "I will not stand for failure. Admiral Raeder has told me that Bismarck is the most powerful battleship in the world and I have chosen to believe him. Was he lying to me, Admiral Schreiber?"
How to answer that question?
Bismarck was far from the most powerful battleship in the world. True, Yamato and Iowa were still a ways away from completion. True, Bismarck was larger than any battleship in Europe. However, she was still not remotely the most powerful battleship on Earth. And Schreiber could never voice that knowledge out loud, or he would be shooting himself in the proverbial foot. Especially with Adolf Hitler staring at him expectantly.
"She is, Mein Führer." Schreiber lied through his teeth, nodding out at the distant form of Bismarck visible through the hotel doors. "However…"
"However?"
Hitler's single word allowed for no argument. And Schreiber knew that better than anyone.
"I believed, from my experience in Norway, that aircraft may have been a potential danger."
As he said that, Schreiber barely turned his head away from Hitler's expectant eyes. Only enough to nod at one of the men in the larger group, a rather portly man staring at the Admiral with an annoyed expression on his face. Considering who it was, that probably wasn't very surprising. Certainly not to the time-traveler who stared at the heavyset officer with a single eyebrow climbing up his face.
"Marshall Goering and the Luftwaffe have demonstrated quite conclusively the potential of air power. While the British air forces are far from the equal of our own, I believed that improving Bismarck's defenses was the prudent option to take." Schreiber turned his head back to Hitler, electing to ignore the way Goering perked up like a peacock strutting his feathers. "And that is why I made the suggestions I have. To truly have Bismarck become the most powerful of all battleships."
And to make certain she survives.
Schreiber did not voice that thought aloud, as he looked at Adolf Hitler. The leader of Germany stared right back, his only action being to raise a hand to his chin and slowly rub it in thought. Not once did his gaze move from Schreiber. Not once did Hitler give any sign of what he actually thought.
No.
The Nazi leader merely stared at the Admiral, his next words barely above a whisper. And all the more terrifying for that.
"You want me to believe that Bismarck, the pride of the Reich and a warship that cost enough money and materials to outfit a Panzer division, was vulnerable to aircraft?"
Those words would have sent lesser men stuttering to apologize and say that no, they didn't actually mean that. Attempting to suck up to Hitler and get out of any possible punishment even if it meant losing their career.
To Schreiber that was never an option. He needed to be right where he was, and nothing could change that fact. Yet, even he felt his shoulders shake and a line of sweat run down his face. He knew better than anyone what it meant, to upset Adolf Hitler.
"I-I believe that any warship can be vulnerable to aircraft, Mein Führer." Schreiber's hands clenched by his side as he internally cursed that stutter.
Apparently, even he was unable to completely quell the sense of danger that soft-spoken words from the monster in front of him brought up.
And Hitler just stared at him, silently watching the Admiral for any signs of...something. Schreiber could do nothing more than just square his shoulders and attempt to ignore the feeling of Hitler's eyes, and that of the rest of the Nazi leadership, observing him. Something easier said than done as he felt another line of sweat roll down his cheek.
I begin to understand exactly what people have said about this man.
"Herr Admiral."
The time traveler stiffened so sharply he felt his back ache, as Hitler turned away from him and walked over to the doors leading out of the hotel. And to the sight of Bismarck resting at anchor in the distance. The Führer's footsteps were sharp and steady, those of a man who knew he was in charge and had absolutely no problems with proving it. His entire body reflected this. Relaxed and completely free of any of the stress that had Schreiber standing so rigidly at attention. The man was insane, but at this moment, he showed none of that.
"Your honesty impresses me." Hitler continued, his back remaining to Schreiber as he spoke. His voice remained thin, but it had lost the soft and dangerous quality. "Admiral Raeder would have given excuses for the delay in time and told me what I wanted to hear. You, however, told me exactly what you believed."
Still, Hitler did not turn away from Bismarck. He remained in the exact same position.
"I had believed you a fool to try and delay Bismarck's mission, knowing what happened to that Jew-loving Admiral I foolishly allowed command of Gneisenau."
"I would-"
Whatever Schreiber could have said was cut off. Hitler needed to merely raise one of his hands, without doing anything further, to make the Admiral stop talking.
Out of worry more than any level of respect.
"You are likely not aware of this, Herr Admiral, but I am a man who values honesty. Too often I find my subordinates telling me what they want me to hear, instead of the truth. Admiral Raeder focused on the damage done to Hood instead of telling me he lost Gneisenau."
Hitler's hand slowly lowered, and Schreiber tensed despite himself. What now?
"As such, it is quite refreshing to have a man who knows what he is talking about and is not afraid to make his point." Hitler's shoulders squared, as he called out a single name. "Bormann!"
Schreiber couldn't stop the flinch, as the square-faced Bormann walked up to Hitler. The man held a small box in his hands that he handed over to the Führer.
It was only once this box was in hand, that Hitler turned around and faced Schreiber. A thin smile across his face. A smile that had Schreiber fighting down the urge to throw up his last meal. It was a genuine smile, if a thin and small one.
A genuine smile from Adolf Hitler.
"I had planned to award you this after the operation in Norway. Your actions with Bismarck brought up questions of your loyalty, however." Hitler walked up to Schreiber, box in hand and smile on his face. It was only when he stopped right in front of the Admiral that he continued speaking. "Questions I am pleased to see proven wrong. Admiral Gustav Schreiber, I hereby award you the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves for your service aboard Blücher."
And with those words Hitler opened the little oak box. Revealing the dark black Knight's Cross with the Oak Leaf decoration atop it. Schreiber could only reach out and take the box from the Führer's hands, despite the feelings it brought up in him. An award. A Nazi award, handed to him by Hitler himself. What was he supposed to feel about that?
What could he feel about it?
"A final word, Admiral." The Führer's voice spoke up one last time.
Schreiber looked at the leader of the Nazi Party, dark eyes once more staring into his own. The thin smile on Hitler's face turned even thinner, lips pressed tightly together underneath his distinctive moustache.
"If Bismarck fails, I will hold you personally responsible. Am I understood?"
Suddenly feeling as if the award in his hand was a rope around his neck, Admiral Schreiber nodded ever so slowly, "Yes, Mein Führer.
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"Admiral, are you not well? You look sick!"
Blücher's panicked words barely registered with Schreiber as he stumbled into the Admiral's quarters aboard her hull. His pale face felt cold to the point that even her breath brushing against it sent a shiver down his spine. Schreiber could barely keep himself upright long enough to reach his temporary bed and even then he fell face-first atop it the moment he reached the cushions. The Admiral's entire body felt shaken, his nerve shot to ribbons and back. It had taken everything he had to not throw up when he had reached his loyal warship.
Hitler congratulating me. Smiling at me like an old friend.
It made him sick to his stomach to even think about it. As well it should.
"Admiral?" Blücher hesitantly walked up to her Admiral, pink hair fluttering around her face. Her violet eyes worriedly looked over the older man while her hands twisted and turned in her short golden skirt.
Schreiber slowly rolled onto his side, staring up at his cruiser with a weak smile on his aged face, "You worry, don't you Blücher?"
"Of course I do!" If it were possible to look both worried and affronted at the same time, Blücher pulled it off. Her teeth worried at her pink lips as she looked down on her Admiral. "Sir, what happened out there? I've never seen you like this before!"
A weary laugh answered that question. Admiral Schreiber fully turned over, laying on his back and turning his eyes up the ceiling of his quarters. His lined face twisted into a brittle smile that probably had Blücher even more worried about him. Not that he could really blame her in this case. He would be worried about himself if there were no context for how he was acting.
"I met the Führer, Blücher." Schreiber's voice was tired when he finally spoke again. So very tired…
"Oh."
The pink haired cruiser settled down on the bed by her Admiral's still form. Blücher's shapely stern precariously balanced on the edge as her hand left her skirt and moved to settle atop her Admiral's. Gently squeezing the larger limb in a caring way that Bismarck had never quite been able to mimic. Oh what had he done to deserve the way she cared for him?
"What did he say, Admiral?" Blücher's voice was barely above a whisper while her fingers gently rubbed along the top of Schreiber's hand.
"What did he not say," Schreiber's words were bitter as bad wine. "A warning that if we fail, I will take the blame for it. Questioning why I chose to modify Bismarck before our operation."
Blücher nodded slowly, violet eyes filled with understanding. "You know we won't let that happen Admiral. Bismarck is a bit new, but she's great. And you have me with you too! When have I ever let you down? Even a little bit?"
Even if it was only a little bit, the wide and goofy smile on her face brought peace to Schreiber's rattled soul. Blücher always did have that way around him, like a favored daughter doing her best to keep her father happy. She lived to see him smile sometimes. And she always was able to make him smile too.
Admittedly though, that may have just been his own perspective.
"Yes, Blücher, you always have been there for me." Schreiber squeezed her hand back, the brittle smile on his face strengthening if only a little. "Sometimes I do wonder what I would do without you."
Blücher just grinned at him, "Well of course you do. You would be completely lost if I wasn't here Admiral, and we both know that!"
Well, she wasn't wrong. Blücher always could raise his spirits. And Schreiber truly did love her like a daughter that he spoiled rotten and not a warship that was one of the best cruisers in the world.
"This is true." Even so, Schreiber could hardly stop a small sigh from escaping his lips. His eyes returned the ceiling, the Admiral reflecting on the real reason he was upset. "However, it wasn't the warning that left me like this."
"Then what was it?" The cruiser tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy, an image hardly helped by her searchlight-headset.
Schreiber sighed once more, "Hitler treated me as a trusted colleague. He smiled at me, and gave me an award for Norway. Can you even imagine what it feels like to have that monster congratulate me and say he values my honesty?"
The old Admiral clenched his free fist, wishing for nothing more than having punched the monster in his moustached face. Or to have pulled the trigger on his service pistol. Or pulled his Kaiserliche Marine dirk, a present from the 'Jew loving' Lütjens and thrust it into Hitler's black heart like a hero slaying a dragon. Those and many darker thoughts had gone through his mind when he was with the Nazi leader and it had taken herculean effort to not do it anyway. Ended the life of the worst man in modern history by his own hands.
"I wanted nothing more than to kill him at that moment, Blücher. I wanted to tear him apart, even though I know that it would just end with me dead and Germany no better off. I still wanted to kill that bastard with my own hands."
It had only been the worried face staring at him at this very moment and the knowledge that not only would Blücher and Bismarck suffer- along with the rest of the fleet -but that the Nazi Party would survive their leader that had stayed his hand. And the fact that, if anything, the war would become more brutal with a man like Himmler potentially in power. Could he really justify throwing his own life away like that, for something that would do no real good in the long run? Hitler had done more harm to Germany than aid in the end.
As hard as it is, I must stay the course I have chosen. I have no other choice.
"Oh Admiral…"
If Blücher cared about his words or not was an open question. Schreiber still let out a shocked gasp when he was suddenly knocked to the bed, a soft body pressed into his own. Warm and wet tears falling on his shoulder. And the smell of flowers and steel filling his nostrils, as he felt Blücher's body shake in his arms, her grip on his back so tight his spine creaked.
"Blücher?" The old man gently whispered, rubbing his hands along the lean back of the heavy cruiser.
"You shouldn't have to feel like that. Damnit all, you shouldn't have to!" Blücher's voice shook every bit as hard as her body, quaking like a tree in the wind inside Schreiber's loose hug. "Admiral, I don't care what I have to do but I'm going to help you! I'm going to make you smile again!"
Perhaps she couldn't see it, but Schreiber already felt a small twitch of his lips. "Blücher, you have already done so much for me. Surely you must know that."
"It isn't enough. I want to leave my hull and go fight them in person. That way you don't have to."
Perhaps, Schreiber reflected, Blücher was more like a cruiser than he had thought. It was very much like a cruiser to want to attack a problem head on and protect her charge. Or in this case, he ruefully acknowledged, her Admiral. Maybe even her father figure.
"You don't need to do that. This is my burden and I will bear it." Schreiber's voice had lowered in pitch, barely audible as he moved his hand to stroke the cruiser's long pink hair. "That you are here for me is more than enough, I assure you."
It was only when he spoke those words that Blücher pulled away from his shoulder. The cruiser's violet eyes were red-rimmed as they looked into his blue, searching for any sign of deception.
She wouldn't find any. Schreiber was being completely honest, and in all honesty, he had never once told a lie to Blücher. Much as he trusted Bismarck with his life, Blücher was the first to know his story and she had stuck by his side ever since. Schreiber frankly couldn't lie to her, not now and not ever. She was his most trusted confidant and friend. His adoptive daughter in all but name.
"I see," the cruiser nodded slowly. Her wary smile returned to her face, even as her arms refused to leave their grip on the tired old Admiral. "Well, it may be enough for you Admiral."
Head falling back down, Blücher let out a soft little sigh of her own as she landed atop his shoulder. Her breath ghosting across Schreiber's cheek as she held him tightly and wouldn't let go even a little bit.
"But not for me." Blücher's words were filled with Germanic conviction, the stubbornness that only a warship of the Reich could muster suffusing each individual syllable.
"Hm?"
All his loyal warship did was shake her head, her pink hair falling across his cheek. "I've already talked with Bismarck. We're going to find a way to leave our hulls if it kills us. And then we're going to take the fight right to them. I won't let anyone hurt you Admiral, no matter what I have to do to stop it! I promise that."
Blücher's overprotectiveness brought a small, sad, smile to Schreiber's face. It was all he could do to not try and correct her. Surely there was no way for them to leave their hulls? And even if they could, what could a handful of ship girls hope to do to the might of the Nazi Party? Part of him wanted to tell her that. He really, truly did with all his heart want to see Blücher happy.
And that was why he held his tongue, settling instead for softly rubbing her back as he looked up and saw Captain Lange leaning at the door into the Admiral's quarters.
"I won't say anything, Admiral."
Schreiber could see those words in his expression, even if the Captain chose- just for one time -to not try and get a rise out of his cruiser. No. Lange was entirely serious as he stared into Schreiber's blue eyes, a non-vocalized question lingering on his thinly pressed lips.
A question that the Admiral answered with a small nod of his head.
"It is time, Captain. Finish the preparations before I return to Bismarck."
Lange nodded himself, quietly shutting the door to the quarters as he left to prepare Blücher for the sortie. Something that had Schreiber looking out the small porthole of the room, the pink haired cruiser melting into his grip as she held him protectively. It was time. Time to finally put the second phase of his long plan into action.
I will become a villain to the British people if I must. I will sink old friends if I must. But I have to prove my worth to Germany. Become a hero to the German people.
Schreiber sighed heavily as the weight of his mission pressed down on his shoulders.
I must be a hero. I have no hope of succeeding if I do not.
At least developing more of Blücher's character was fun. She really is the most stubbornly overprotective ship girl I think I've ever written. And rather clingy.
But yeah.
Writing Hitler makes me feel dirty and not in the fun way.
Also, 191 pages O_O
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- Location
- Pacific NW
Destiny updates are always a pleasure. Nice job Sky!
MrTartan
Whiskey Enthusiast
- Location
- Earth, Sol System, Milky Way, The Universe
...Have I mentioned that I hate Nazis? All of them, without exception?
I know how Schreiber feels. Not to mention, I am very impressed with his self control.
Infront of Hitler an some of his inner circle, and he managed to not slaughter every last one of them. Can definitely say I wouldn't have restrained myself.
I know how Schreiber feels. Not to mention, I am very impressed with his self control.
Infront of Hitler an some of his inner circle, and he managed to not slaughter every last one of them. Can definitely say I wouldn't have restrained myself.
Must suck to have one of the most monstrous humans in modern history treat you like a friend. As if the two of you had several similarities. Or the two of you were not so different after all.
That is a pretty nasty feeling.
That is a pretty nasty feeling.
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
So, going by the description, I figure it was something like Hitler's picture on the cover of Time, when he was, no joke, Man of The Year. Mainly because of him getting Germany back on her own two feet after the Depression.He got the trains running on time, we just didn't know what was in the cattle cars.
Also,
P.S.
ADD-ON:
Hitler asking a frostbitten and snow ravaged soldier not to salute him, but to instead rest and recover; ca. 1941- 42
Also,
It's worse that he has to go through this kind of mess, not once, but twice. Watching his country goosestep along.
P.S.
This, right here, took the most amount of spine in the history of man. He brought himself to be able to say 'Jawohl, mein Fuhrer,' and not kill himself on the spot. Sky, have hugs. Although I can only give you one, it is an uncomfortable squeeze, so as to try to cover up the discomfort from this.
ADD-ON:
Hitler asking a frostbitten and snow ravaged soldier not to salute him, but to instead rest and recover; ca. 1941- 42
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subsider34
Forum Lurker Extraordinaire
- Location
- Houston, TX
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Well written chapter. You did an excellent job of writing Hitler as an intense, intelligent man who is somewhat biased and extremely dangerous...but not necessarily evil. Not without the foreknowledge Schreiber has anyways. It's always hard writing an appealing (well more appealing anyways) persona for extremely popular yet truly evil men and women. That goes double for historical figures we've been taught are evil from an early age.
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Because, except for that pesky RAF, the war is going great. France fell almost immediately, Poland is out, the UK is on the run almost worldwide, from Africa to Java. The war hasn't really started yet. How can you convince a crew to defect, leaving their entire lives behind, for seemingly no apparent reason?