Chapter 53
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Bright brown eyes stared at the ocean, their owner draped over the side of a pier. Brown curls of hair fell down towards the water, little droplets falling from the tips. A small smile and a laugh joined them. The girl's hand reached out and gently drew circles in the waves. Her bright smile was reflected back at her, even as the water distorted it. She was always more at home in, or at least around, the water. Being on land felt profoundly
unnatural. It probably always would. A drydock was one thing, actually walking around was...weird. Frightening sometimes. There was none of the cold that water gave. None of the
control that pushing her turbines gave her. She was at the mercy of whomever came across her, much as anyone else was.
And so, she stayed near the water whenever possible. A thoroughbred horse would always want to run in the fields. A destroyer would always want to be in the water. Sprinting to her next mission with wild abandon.
"To Libya I go~ To Libya I go~." She sang softly, her head nodding side to side. Her brown eyes chasing her reflection in the depths. "To Taranto I come home~ To Taranto..."
Behind- above? -her, a distinctly
male voice cleared his throat. The little destroyer tilted her head back, blinking a little at the sunlight shining down on her. When the spots cleared from her eyes, her smile widened. A more natural grin appeared. And it was all she could do to
not jump up and grab the man in a tight embrace.
"Turbine," for his part, the man clearly realized that. He brought a hand up to keep her from moving...even as he smiled himself. His lined face, now decorated by fresher scars, twisted a bit. No woman would call him
handsome after surviving two sinkings, in two different wars.
He didn't, and never seemed to, care. The Navy had always been his life, in a very real way. Now that
she was around...well. It was a bit more literal.
"You know, you can't keep running off like this." His voice attempted to be stern. Even with the natural gruffness that came from working in a sweltering engine room, it didn't quite work. The softness of his smile ruined it. "If I have to keep dragging you back, our
friend the German will get upset."
As quick as it had come, her smile faded. Turbine let out a sigh that turned into a whistle that would make her old crew jump to attention. Even her...father...Carlo twitched a little. "I don't like him."
"I think the feeling is mutual, Turbine." Carlo smiled and sat down next to the destroyer. His hands produced a piece of bread, that he broke in two and passed over to the destroyer. The engineer chuckled, when Turbine eagerly grabbed her half and stuffed it into her mouth. Chuckle or no, his eyes were still serious, however. "The Lord only knows that I don't trust him."
Turbine nodded, even though her cheeks were puffed out by the bread she was hastily chewing.
"And that's why you can't keep running off like this," Carlo continued, reaching a hand out to pat the destroyer on the head. He still remembered that fateful day, and how she had mentioned liking when he patted her boilers. As she leaned into his touch with a smile, the Italian officer sighed softly. "If you do, he'll start thinking you're going to leave. We can't do that."
The destroyer swallowed, and shrunk in on herself a little. Her feet aimlessly kicked in the air, while her head fell back down to the water. The tips of her hair swirled in the deep blue, as brown eyes stared up at her father. Her voice was tiny when she spoke up, "He scares me."
Carlo could only sigh again, and place his hand on Turbine's arm. "I know."
Nothing more needed to be said. Both of them knew what was bothering the destroyer. Turbine, behind her easy smile, was still a bit timid after her sinking. Who wouldn't be, when they were pounded into scrap by an unusually good shooting light cruiser? No destroyer came out of that easily. And the German...the German. He wasn't
normal. He wasn't
right.
His smile scares me. What does that man want with me? Why is he...
The German stared at her. When he didn't think she was looking, he grinned at something only he could see. Even when she
did look directly at him, he still smiled. A smile that was too wide and that didn't reach his eyes. The man was
creepy. He practically leered at her with every glance. Turbine didn't know what he wanted with her, either. It wasn't sexual. She knew that much.
It was something
worse. There was a light in his eyes that struck deep into her soul. The light of insanity.
"...you're not leaving me, right, father?" Turbine lifted her head up, water dripping down her face as she stared at her engineer. The closest thing to a father she had.
Carlo just smiled at her, "Never again. I promised you that I would never leave, that day. Remember?"
"...yeah." The little destroyer smiled, and pulled herself fully up. Her skirt ruffled with the movement, as she stood up and looked down on the old man. "Should we head back? I really don't want to..."
"Unfortunately, I don't think we have a choice there." Carlo climbed to his own feet, smoothing down his uniform before placing a hand on Turbine's shoulder. She appreciated the touch. "I heard the Germans are sending an
Admiral down to talk to you, now. Can't miss that, can we?" Squeezing slightly, the Italian sighed and looked up at the sky. "An Admiral...they're taking this seriously. I almost wish I had hidden that you returned."
"Would that have worked?" Turbine didn't even hesitate to lean into her engineer's side, looking up at him with wide brown eyes.
Prompting a snort from the man, "No, probably not. I was too happy to have you back, and the Navy wondered where I had hidden your flag. Couldn't very well hide
that for long.
il Capitano was apoplectic when he found out I took it."
Turbine giggled, and Carlo smiled. Successful distraction maneuver.
"Come on now, Turbine. Let's not keep our friend from the SS waiting. And I'm sure the Admiral wants to talk to you."
Distraction or not, they had a job to do. If Carlo wished he still had Turbine's flag, the heart of an Italian warship? Well, that was one thing. It was another entirely, to be willing to deal with a German without the emotional support it had provided him. In the dark days after her sinking, it was the one thing he had to remind him. To keep the girl he had seen in his mind.
He still didn't know how it had brought her back...and yet, he never complained.
"I wanted her back, so dearly..."
Turbine looked over at her engineer, confusion lining her youthful features. "Father? Is something wrong?"
Carlo was lost in his thoughts and didn't reply.
It was a dark night, on the Taranto shoreline. The new moon provided no illumination. Even the lights from the naval base were gone, as most ships had been moved to safer ground after the raid. Only starlight shone down, glittering upon the dark waters of the harbor. One man stood at a pier, empty and desolate, looking out at the waves. Clenched tightly in his hands was a single Italian flag. The battle flag of Turbine.
Carlo Lombardi didn't know why he came out to this pier, her former pier. Perhaps it was because he missed her. When the first Turbine had sunk, he hadn't felt this way. He had been more consumed with loss for his comrades than the ship.
This was different.
His fingers ran along the rough fabric of the flag, as flashes of a brown haired girl ran rampant through his mind. A teenager, covered in her own blood. Smiling at him through obvious pain. Brown eyes staring into his soul, begging him to leave her behind. He...he still saw her. In his dreams. She haunted him, in a way that he had thought reserved for his comrades from the Great War. Who would have thought a destroyer would haunt him so?
'Who would have thought that Turbine had a soul? God...'
Theological questions that could keep the Vatican running for decades, meant nothing to him. What mattered to him, was that he had a promise and no idea how to keep it. Carlo had sworn, the day that Turbine sank, that he would bring her back. How? He didn't have the slightest idea how to do it. If it was even possible. If the Navy built another Turbine, would it be the same girl? Or a new one entirely?
And he couldn't wait that long. He may not live that long.
"What am I even doing out here?" Carlo asked no one in particular, looking up at the sky now. He felt every one of his years in that moment. His shoulders bowed by age and his limbs tired. "I'm not a man of God. I haven't been to Mass in years. How am I supposed to bring her back? How can I bring her back?"
It wasn't as if he expected any sort of reply. Nothing but the wind to answer him, gently wafting off the harbor. Salt and lingering fuel oil filled his nose. Familiar. So very, painfully, familiar. He could almost imagine himself inside her engine room again. Hearing the boilers and turbines pushing her through the waves, as if she were a purebred horse. Smell the scent of sweat and oil that only a sailor knew. Listen to her crew smiling and laughing as they evaded the enemy once again.
So many memories.
So many regrets.
"Turbine, I'm sorry that I can't do anything." Sighing deeply, the engineer let his head fall back down. He stared out at the harbor once more, shaking his head ever so slowly. Nothing. "One day, I'll bring you back. That's a promise, and I intend to keep it. You hear me? Wherever you are, Turbine, I'll bring you back. I swear."
Letting his grip loosen on the flag, Carlo turned away from the harbor and began marching back to the shoreline. He would probably be assigned to another destroyer soon enough. Men like him, men who were chief engineers, were never common enough. It was only to recover from his injuries that it took this long. He'd probably be put on another Turbine-class. Or maybe Legionario, when she was completed. She wouldn't be the same. But...
With nary a sound of warning, the brush of wind turned into a gale. Carlo stumbled, and fell to his face when something slammed into his back. Cold arms wrapped around him, and rough hair pressed into his back. He could feel the poke of a nose pressed into his shoulder, and the wetness of what could only be tears falling upon his uniform. Sobs rang out over the sound of wind, painfully familiar sobs. He knew that voice. He knew that hair. And he certainly knew that nose, and the face it was attached to.
"F---father! You never gave up on me! You brought me back! I was so cold and it was so dark and I just wanted to hear your voice and I---"
Carlo gently turned around, careful not to upset the babbling girl on his back as he shifted her to his front. His eyes met red-rimmed brown, set in a pale face that was flushed pink. A little teenager, sniffling as she clutched tiny hands in his uniform. This wasn't the tough girl who had told him to leave her to die.
Perhaps, that was to be expected. Strength from adversity could flee like the wind, when the danger passed. Lord, did he know that better than most.
"Turbine? How..." Even as he asked the question, Carlo was shaking his head and holding her tightly. The 'how' didn't matter. The 'why' didn't matter. She was here now, and he had kept his promise. "That doesn't matter. Are you alright? Is anything wrong with your turbines? Or your boilers?"
Turbine hiccuped, and despite herself, smiled. "Once an engineer..."
"...always an engineer." The Italian officer finished, smiling himself. "You have no idea how I missed you, dear Turbine. I didn't know it would be so painful."
"I--I missed you too, father." Turbine didn't even care what she was calling him, and Carlo couldn't find it in himself to correct her.
Why bother? She was the closest thing to a daughter he would probably ever have. And he couldn't say no, not now, and not ever again. Not after watching her die before his very eyes. Who even could?
"I told you, Turbine. I promised I would bring you back."
"And you did."
Carlo's own smile widened, as he held the girl close to his chest, heedless of her tears soaking through his uniform. "Indeed. And I won't let you go again."
Turbine couldn't have known what was going through her engineer- her father's -head. She also couldn't care less, though it would probably make her blush had she actually
known what it was. Most, if not all, of her attention was focused on the men visible in the distance. Two Germans, in dramatically different uniforms. The familiar grey of the SS officer, who was taller than the other man. Even from this distance, Turbine could see the leer on his face. Sometimes, having the lookout in her mast was less than useful.
The leer still made her shudder and push herself deeper against her father.
As for the other man? Where the SS officer was young and blonde, this man was old and grey. Lines crisscrossed an aged face that had seen too much. He was older than Carlo, and more world-weary. Even from as far as they were, Turbine could see that. From the creases in his forehead, to the way his entire body hung down.
Yet...
"That must be the Admiral." Carlo spoke up, sending an appraising look at the man in a blue uniform. The Italian was smiling slightly, at how the shorter man stood up to the SS officer. "He seems strong."
"He does!" Turbine nodded, unable to hide a smile at how the Admiral was clearly berating the SS man who was slowly losing his leer. Sure, the man was old and tired. But his shoulders were unbowed and he was
strong.
"Let's go see what's going on, shall we?" Pushing away from her, if only a little bit, Carlo smiled at Turbine and bowed his head in the direction of the Germans. "I'm curious to meet this Admiral. You?"
Turbine nodded eagerly, feeling at least a little of her nervousness seep away. "Hm! He looks a lot nicer than the
other German. Not that it's hard to do!"
"You aren't wrong, Turbine."
With matching smiles on their faces, the Italian officer and destroyer walked up to the two Germans. The tail-end of the argument wafted over to them, carried on the wind. It seemed that the two were...arguing about Turbine. About what she was, and what she meant to the world. It was enough to make the destroyer lose her smile, and Carlo clench his fist. Though
he kept the smile, if only to keep the Germans from seeing what he felt.
"...you don't understand,
Herr Schreiber! That girl, that warship, is a sign! She is clearly a spirit, a Valkyrie of war, brought to help the
Reich triumph over our foes!
Reichsführer Himmler has stated that..."
"I don't much care what
Herr Himmler has said," the Admiral, Schreiber, held a hand up. His aged features were showing clear distaste, when they glanced at the SS officer. "Or, for that matter, whatever occult nonsense you believe. At
best the girl is an angel. I'm not even sure I'm religious enough to believe
that, some days. I
am Christian enough to consider her a miracle."
While the SS officer turned an interesting shade of puce, the Admiral turned to look at the Italians. A small smile had taken form upon his thin lips, as he sent a sharp nod at them.
"As it turns out, our guests have arrived. Do you care to introduce me to our
miracle,
Hauptsturmführer Bruder?"
The SS officer growled a little, stiffly spinning on the spot to raise an arm and point at Carlo and Turbine. "
Primo Tenente Carlo Lombardi, and
Turbine. May I introduce you to Admiral Schreiber?"
"A pleasure." Carlo completely ignored Bruder, reaching out a hand to Schreiber instead. He didn't have the slightest idea how German's saluted each other.
Schreiber didn't seem to care, merely smiling softly as he took the hand and shook it firmly. "Indeed. I've heard a fair bit about the both of you, though I'm not a fan of some of it." Here, the old man sent a stern glance at the SS officer, who was stewing silently in place. "I imagine that I'll get an earful from
Herr Himmler later, however, in this moment? I don't see a Valkyrie or whatever occult explanation they dug up from the Celts right now."
As he said that, Schreiber released Carlo's hand, and knelt down to look Turbine in the eye. The destroyer stared right back, smiling ever so slightly. Something that the German returned, gently reaching a hand out to place on her shoulder. In a way that was so very,
very familiar.
"All I see is a girl, who needs to be taken care of. Someone who is a miracle, and someone we should protect at all costs." Schreiber's voice dropped a little at the end, becoming almost melancholic. His smile was brittle. "Am I right, Turbine?"
Sending a quick glance at Carlo, and getting a nod in return, Turbine smiled at Schreiber. Wider than she had been before. "Yes sir!"
"Good girl." Stretching back up, Schreiber removed his hand and looked at Carlo and Turbine at once. "I'm sure both of you have a lot to tell me. I'd like to hear your story, and how Turbine came back like this. Perhaps, a demonstration of what she can do on the waves?" At the nods he got in reply, the Admiral sighed softly. "Whatever I see will be going back to Germany. I assure you both, that I am on your side. I don't have the same opinion of Italy that many of my countrymen do. However..."
Schreiber pulled his cap from his head, and rubbed at thinning grey hair. Mopping at sweat forming on his brow.
"I can't make any promises. I have many friends back home, from what I did with
Bismarck. I cannot guarantee that will be enough."
*insert apologies about delay here*
The simplest explanation, really, is that work has been murdering me. Holidays are not fun. Ever since the holidays, it has rarely (if ever) slowed down. This leaves me with little motivation to write when I get off, and much motivation to just relax and game on my days off. Not conducive to writing.
That said, I'm probably going to condense my focus on writing down to this, Adventurous Skies, which I do want to go back to my intended weekly updates for, the Indy rewrite...and Purple Phoenix.
The intention in doing so is simple. I want to be able to focus and make up for how work is draining me by having fics that are most important to me. My ultimate goal is to have the Indy rewrite done fairly soon (not posting it until it's 100% done), get back to my intended schedule for Arcadia, and get back into the swing of things here.
I certainly don't intend to take this long to update this again. No matter what.
