Prelude to Battle: Regia Marina
There were times, if rarely, that Andrea Doria wished Italy and Britain were still allies. Not out of any fear of fighting the British, or any particular love for them. After Taranto, she had nothing but
disdain for the Royal Navy. The only regret she had, was that it prevented sharing their technology. She'd heard that the British had something called 'radar' from her Admiral and Captain. They didn't seem to know exactly what it was either, just that the
Regia Marina saved whatever they had for the more modern warships. And that it let the British see them, before she could see
them. Not a fun feeling.
Doria was used to it by now, though.
It isn't like this is anything new...
Brushing her ponytail from her face, the Italian stared out at the calm seas. Her brown eyes scanning the horizon. She...couldn't see anything. Only her own fleet, nothing more. It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it? Where were the British planes? Their ships? There was
no way they would just let the transports through. The British always knew when they ran convoys.
"Where are they?" Doria mused aloud, her voice carrying over the steady wind. She frowned lightly, turning and walking towards her lookout. The man, high in her spotting top, didn't reply. "Sometimes, I really wish that everyone could hear me. Ugh."
She didn't hesitate to walk right through the man. He shuddered in place...she didn't feel a thing. No, Doria never did. Not anymore. She was too focused on staring out in a different direction. It would be a lie to say she wasn't eager for battle. She was a battleship. It was in her
bones. And she'd never, not once, actually fought. It was a strange situation to be in.
Then again, at least I'm not Cesare. She's got a score to settle.
"Hey, Cesare!" Doria, in fact, turned her head towards that battleship. Cesare was very distinctive, with her older modernization. "You ready to hit that English battleship again?"
There was silence at first, before a soft snort came back. Doria got the impression of her cousin shrugging her shoulders.
"Ready? Yes. Eager? Not particularly. I'd rather we didn't have to fight at all, at least until we've got the convoy into port."
"Aww. Come on, Cesare, where's your spine?" Doria was mostly just ribbing the other girl. She didn't
really think that she was a coward.
"I want to get back at her. I just don't relish the idea of having to tie ourselves to the convoy." Once again, there was the impression of a shrug.
"Our refits gave us speed, after all. I want to be able to use it."
"...you raise a good point."
Really, she did. Doria's eyes drifted away from Cesare, and towards the distant merchants. This wasn't a fleet battle, it was an escort mission. They couldn't just break off from the convoy entirely, and expect the British not to take advantage. That took away
their advantage of speed. Which, she reflected, was the main advantage they had in the first place. She could feel her boilers practically itching to be let loose...and couldn't do anything about it. Well, damnit.
"I just want to get back at the English," sighing deeply, the battleship turned back to her cousin. "Taranto was the worst night of my life, and we've had no chance to fight back. Repay them for that."
Silence greeted her. A silence drawn out
juuuuusssttt long enough to worry her, looking at Cesare. Until, with a heavy sigh of her own, the battleship responded.
"Yes. I am aware." Her voice was clipped and formal. Dry and
dead.
"My sister is never sailing again."
Oops?
Doria didn't reply to that. She couldn't reply to that. Cesare was silent, and the brunette was inclined to let her be. That was a trauma that she would rather not pick at, considering the situation. Her own sister was alive and well. Cesare...Cesare had lost both of her sisters. Leo was long dead, and was never going to come back. Cavour was floating in Trieste, languishing for lack of materials. If she ever sailed again, it wouldn't be for years. There was every chance that Cesare would die before then. Doria couldn't possibly understand that feeling.
She didn't want to understand it. Never.
"So," instead, she turned her gaze towards her distant sibling. Caio had been studiously silent the entire conversation, not wanting to get involved. She always was like that. "What do
you think the British are up to, little sister?"
With a puff of smoke from her stack, Caio stiffened in place. Doria had the impression of vivid blue eyes glaring at her.
"Oh no, don't drag me into this, sis. I'm not helping you!"
"Who said anything about helping me?" Doria snorted, holding a hand over her mouth to cover her laughter. Oh dear. "I'm just wondering if you've seen anything."
Caio sniffled a bit, before replying.
"No, I haven't. I think they don't know where we are, personally. Wouldn't they have attacked us if they did?"
A valid point, to be sure. Doria had thought much the same, at first. There was something though. Something tingling at her as
wrong about the situation.
Turbine. She, and so many others, had been caught flat-footed. It was like the British always knew when and where a convoy would be.
"I'm more concerned about how they always know where we are."
"Are you sure you aren't worrying too much, sis?" Caio didn't have the experience, really. Even what little Doria had...was far more than her inexperienced sister.
With her eyes once more drifting away, Doria bit her lip. "I hope I am. I want to fight the British, but not on
their terms."
Gaze finally settling on the distant shape of Zara, the battleship shook her head. If anyone would see the British first, it would be one of the cruisers. They were the eyes of the fleet. They were the ones who would fight first. She could only hope that they saw the British...before the British saw them.
Admiral Carlo Cattaneo stood on
Zara's bridge, his eyes behind binoculars. He was scanning the horizon, a job for the lookout, out of a sense of duty. He was the squadron commander of the Second Division. He would, probably, be the first to fight. Keeping a lid on his Captains was difficult enough as it was, and he wanted to be
ready when the British showed up. For that, he needed to know as soon as they were sighted. Thus, binoculars. He would know as soon as the lookout did. Or, so he hoped, at least. It was anyone's guess.
"Admiral, you do realize there is no sign of the British, yes?"
Zara's Captain was by his side, as he should have been. The two men were given a respectful distance by the rest of the crew, as they went about their duties.
Zara, herself, steamed at the front of her division.
Pola and
Fiume were in-line behind her, with destroyers ranged around the flanks. Even further out, torpedo boats kept a wary eye on the horizon. It was a while yet, before the
Regia Aeronautica provided their promised air cover. Until then, it was up to lookouts aboard the ships to find any enemy.
It was like the Great War, in a way.
"Perhaps," Cattaneo acknowledged, without removing his eyes from the binoculars. He looked towards smoke in the distance, that marked the furthest ranging Italian ships. "I don't expect that to last. Do you?"
The Captain chuckled, "Of course not. The English never miss the chance to attack a convoy."
"Exactly."
Moving his gaze further afield, the Admiral frowned slightly. In the distance, smoke rose on the horizon that was not where it should have been. He couldn't see much else, even in the bright sunlight he was provided with. That smoke, though...
"Captain?" Holding out the binoculars, Cattaneo stared at his subordinate. "Does this look out of place to you? I believe it is."
Raising an eyebrow, the younger man took the binoculars and scanned the horizon himself. It took only a matter of seconds for him to notice what was being pointed out. Even less time to lower the binoculars, and stare at the Admiral. Both men knew what they were seeing. Something only confirmed, when the lookout
and contact from other vessels reported the same situation.
"British warships, approaching from the west!"
Cattaneo nodded his head, absorbing the information.
Here they come. How many and what they have...if they have battleships, this could be a problem.
"Continue observing the British!"
Zara's Captain was quick to command his crew, stepping aside and allowing the Admiral to move past him. "Prepare for combat! The English won't get to the Convoy. Not by getting past
us!"
Walking towards the radio, Cattaneo allowed his subordinate to do his job. It was not his place to command
Zara. He was the commander of the Second Division. The eyes of the fleet and the escort for the escorts. He needed to do two things, and neither of them were fighting the ship.
"
Andrea Doria," Cattaneo spoke without preamble, his eyes noting how the smoke on the horizon grew thicker. The British had certainly seen
him as much as he had seen them. "Second Division reports contact with Royal Navy warships. Count currently unknown, however--"
As he spoke, a report was handed to him by a harried young man. Nodding absently, the Admiral read it over. Hm.
"--two Battleships are seen in concert with the enemy fleet. Possible identification on a third. All appear to be
Queen Elizabeth-class. Do you read?"
With a crackle of static, the communications officer aboard
Doria was quick to respond.
"We copy, Zara. Orders are to engage screening forces at your discretion. Destroyers and torpedo craft are to pull back until such a time as a gap has been created in the British line. Andrea Doria, Caio Dulio and Giulio Cesare are moving to provide support. Over."
"Copy,
Andrea Doria."
With a nod at the man controlling the radio, Cattaneo changed channels. He was now connected to his direct command.
Pola and
Fiume. The destroyer leaders further out, only under his general command, their own officers largely operating on their own initiative.
"Orders from command are as follows..."
While Cattaneo gave out his orders, and the fleet began to coalesce into a proper fighting formation, a young woman stood beside him. Violet eyes looked at the Admiral, and at the crew rushing around. She bit her lip, her hands firmly placed on the medium-length skirt gracing her hips. Blonde hair fell in front of her face, covering her expression, even were anyone able to see it.
She was ready to fight. She wasn't sure that her sisters were. Or that this battle would go in their favor. She worried, more than anyone. It was in her nature as a big sister and flotilla leader. It wouldn't stop her from fighting with everything she had, when it came down to it.
For she was
Zara of the
Regia Marina, and she would never, ever turn away from her duty.
I would apologize for the lengthy hiatus...but at this point, I have to do that almost every time I update. I don't know how much words mean at this point >.>
Now that I'm out of Walmart, I should be able to write more often. This is still priority one. I just...hm. Destiny takes a lot more out of me than my other fics, because of how much I juggle and research for each chapter. In addition to this, battles are the bane of my existence. I'm much more comfortable with character work and (ironically) politicking than I am with battles. That's why I, once again, just do a prelude to it.
In the end, I don't like writing more than 3k or so for a chapter. This would be 5-6k if I wrote even half of the battle I've had percolating for months. I...considering time and how long it's been, I wanted to get something out before I work again. I work at a theater now. Which is normally much easier and less stressful...but Lion King comes out next week. Yeah.
So I, in the end, am putting this up as a counterpart to the Liz bit. Zara will be properly introduced next chapter. Expect some differences from KC!Zara since I tend towards doing my own thing. Pola will be much more different when she crops up too.
I hope to get the next one up quickly. Hope.
