Chapter 59
"I feel as if the war left us behind a very long time ago, Sascha."
Günther Lütjens slid into his customary chair with a heavy sigh, his bones protesting every movement. He wasn't a young man anymore
and he had just been party to his world being turned upside down. This day had been one thing after another. Learning that Sascha was not a maid, and in fact, was his old flagship. Meeting with Winston Churchill to discuss betraying his homeland. Learning that the man who had taken his place, the most famous naval officer- perhaps rivaling even Rommel in fame -was
already subverting the war effort. It was maddening.
"To be entirely fair, Admiral, it
did." Sascha gave him a small smile, though her muscles and shoulders remained stiff. Her lingering frustration with Churchill, perhaps? "It's hardly as if we have had any way to influence it from here."
The old man could only snort at that. "That is not what I meant, though I appreciate the attempt at humor. Sascha, what is
your opinion on all of this?" Sending her a dry look, Lütjens knew what he was asking. "You know more about Gustav's plans than I ever will. What, exactly, does he intend to do with all of this? I can't help but see this as a repeat of the lies that brought Hitler to power in the first place."
Maybe it was his time in Britain, away from Germany, that let him see the Stab in the Back for what it was. A convenient rallying point for keeping Germany angry at the Entente, more than any real truth. He still loathed Versailles, as did any patriotic German, especially one in the military. Yet...
Hmph.
We let his words sway us onto a path that can only end in loss. Germany could possibly have beaten Britain and France alone. Germany has no hope of defeating Britain, Russia and America all working in concert with each other. We were all blind. Blind to follow a madman into the depths of Hell.
"...I'm sure you see my concern." Lütjens finished, tiredly reaching a hand up to rub at his face.
Sascha, to her credit, shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "I am not privy to everything the Admiral is planning, sir. Even with our unique abilities, he isn't comfortable sending everything over radio or wireless. He knows that the Gestapo watch his every step." Folding her hands behind her back, the battleship continued, nerves clear and obvious. "I am sure he is aware of the risks, however. He certainly doesn't want a repeat of what happened after the last war."
Lütjens wanted to believe those words. He truly, honestly, did. However, he could hardly help but acknowledge that Sascha had no first-hand experience with how Germany had been between the wars. She couldn't have. And for all that he acknowledged, now, that Hitler was a madman dragging Germany down with him? Removing him at the moment may not be the best plan. How would the people react if Germany were truly 'stabbed in the back' at the height of their success, when it looked like her armies were invincible?
Sighing once more, the Admiral shook his head. There was nothing he could do to influence events in Germany. What would happen, would happen. "I have to trust in your judgement, Sascha. I hope that Gustav knows what he is doing. I cannot see where he plans to end. Unless he intends to see Germany burnt to the ground before making any sort of move..."
At the way Sascha looked away from him, Lütjens slowly raised a hand to his brow and rubbed at it tiredly. Of course. He should have known the answer to his question, before he so much as asked it. There was only going to be one response. He hated the response, with everything in his being, but it was the only one that made any sense.
"...I shouldn't be surprised by that." So, acknowledging that point, the old Admiral looked at the door. And beyond it, to where the British were waiting for their next meeting, whenever that came. "Fine. Sascha, we must do
everything in our power to limit the damage. I will not see Germany destroyed to save her. There
must be a way to end this madness before it goes that far."
"Of course, Admiral!" Sascha snapped to attention, firing off a picture perfect salute. A picture perfect
Kaiserliche Marine salute. "I'll do anything I can to help you, I promise! Just say the word, and it will be done. Even if I have to fight again!"
"No need for that, dear." Lütjens smiled, before sighing softly.
Waving off the concerned look that Sascha sent his way, the Admiral leaned back in his chair and held a hand to his face. It hid things he would rather not have her see. This...he had his own reasons to not want Germany destroyed. Reasons that had nothing to do with loyalty to the nation.
My boys...my dear daughter. I don't want them to grow up in a country in ruins. I don't want them to constantly be at risk of dying, from starvation or bombs or vengeful soldiers. Even as I contemplate betraying everything I stood for, I fear more for their sake than my own. I will accept whatever my people deem necessary of me, when this war is over. I will not
allow my children to suffer. No matter what I must do. Sascha...there is one more thing I must ask of you, my dear friend.
Letting his hand fall, the old Admiral looked over at the battleship. She had dropped her own salute, yet she still stood at parade-ground attention. "Sascha, there is one request I have of you. One more important than any other."
"What is that, Admiral?" Her voice was entirely serious, not a hint of her old act in it. The immigrant maid had been replaced by the calm and collected sailor. Warship. "If it's in my power, I am glad to do it!"
"I need you to contact your sister, and Gustav. I will do what I can to help him. However," here, he stared directly into Sascha's eyes. He wanted no questions to come from what he was about to say, and he wanted everything to be very clear. "I want him to
protect my family. I do not care how he does so. If he must have another woman like you do it, I do not care." Lütjens was not a man given to exaggerations, nor to grand gestures. Even so, he
stared Sascha down. "If I am to betray my country, if I am to see it burn to end this war, I
must know my family will survive."
Something flashed behind Sascha's eyes, yet she nodded her head anyway. "Of course, Admiral. I...I would do the same for my sister."
"So I imagine." Lütjens smiled and relented from his stare. "That is all I ask of you, Sascha. You may go now...I think I'd like to rest a while."
After all, the old Admiral had the distinct feeling that the next few days, months,
years...were not going to be fun for him. He would need his rest where he could find it.
The coming days are going to be interesting. And not in a good way.
While Admiral Lütjens rested, Admiral Thompson found it impossible to do so. He paced in his room, while Utah poured over the details of how Royal Oak had woken up in Scapa. And what little that Gneis...Sascha...had been willing to share of her own experience. He wasn't entirely sure if she was reading all of that because she was curious, or if it was to let him have peace to think to himself. Either way, he was taking advantage of the spare time.
"Right. I can't confirm anything about Schreiber without talking to him myself, but there's no way that will work. Not in the middle of a war..." muttering to himself, Thompson looked down at his bed. His own notes scattered over it, his attempts at remembering the names of everyone he had worked with in the future. His past. "Damnit, I wish I could remember. I haven't had to think about things back then in
years. I didn't think I would have to."
"Are you concerned he is like
you are, Admiral?" Utah piped up, though her grey eyes remained focused on what she was reading. He forgot how good her- any of the women, really -hearing was. "I admit, it would make a certain amount of sense. I can hardly imagine why anyone
without your experience would know we exist."
Thompson sighed deeply, "Same here, Utah. It doesn't make any sense. But it
also doesn't make any sense that he wouldn't just defect if he was like me. Why bother working for Germany at all?"
"I believe we already answered that question. Just as I would do anything for my daughters, or you would do anything for any of us..." Utah trailed off, sending a significant look at the Admiral, instead of looking at her papers.
"...he'd do anything for his country and girls. Right."
Utah smiled, and returned to what she was doing. Thompson took her example and returned to his
own pacing. Alright. There was almost zero chance that Schreiber
wasn't from the future, based on the available data. He'd looked at absolutely everything they had on the man, from British intelligence to what his fellow Admiral and Sascha had said. Everything pointed to a man who knew things he shouldn't, who had been in
just the right place at
just the right times, and who had a strong desire to make peace with the West while keeping the Soviets out. No matter what it meant for Germany as a whole.
Most of it could just point to a man who saw how the cards were arranged, with the United States in the War now and was unusually lucky. If not for the singular fact that he knew about ship girls and ship spirits.
She's right, I can't see how he could have known about the girls like this, if he weren't like me. No one in my time, no one, knew about the girls until the Abyssals showed up. I don't see anything different about this world that could cause that, other than me being here and...he's been doing things before I showed up.
Letting out an explosive sigh, the Admiral did the only thing he could. Sit down and stare at Utah. "So, if Schreiber is like me, how are we going to do this? I can't stay here forever, and neither can you. How do we know he'll be able to respond while I'm still here?"
"We can't know for sure." Utah replied, pulling out a picture of Royal Oak's hull and looking at it intently. She bit her lip, shook her head, and continued speaking. "You want to be back with Saratoga, don't you?"
"...you aren't wrong." Thompson forced the flush down, while smiling a crooked smile at Utah. "And you want to be back with Jackson, I'm sure."
The battleship didn't respond to that bait, simply blushing and returning to her work. Chuckling slightly at that, Thompson fell back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Times like this, he felt like he was a cadet at the Academy again. Tasked with some absurd situation that he had to come up with a solution to. Never had something quite as outlandish as
this though. Figuring out what a German Admiral was doing in World War Two, while he was talking with USS
Utah as a woman.
Hm. Well, he couldn't stay with the British forever. He was needed back in the Pacific. Sara's refit wouldn't take that much longer and he'd be
damned if someone else took her out.
"Right. If we can't say for sure when he'll respond, we need a different plan. We should put something together for the British." Thompson spoke up, just loud enough for Utah to know he wasn't muttering to himself.
At those words, Utah actually pushed herself out, and turned her chair around to look at the Admiral. "What do you suggest, Admiral?"
"I think we need to tell Churchill
everything, and create a list of things that we can relay to Schreiber whenever Gne...Sascha can talk to him." At the dubious look he got, Thompson raised a hand and smiled. "I know, I know. I don't much want to tell Churchill what I am either, but the President gave me permission
if we found it necessary. It isn't something any of us are fond about doing, but we need Churchill onboard with what we're doing or we're just going to fail."
What was left unsaid was that any
other President would have forbidden him from saying anything. Roosevelt was the rare breed who had his secrets, yet also felt much less in the way of problems with
telling others things. He was never going to march up to Joe Stalin and tell him about the Manhattan Project- ignoring the spies, obviously -but he also shared damn near everything with Churchill. Out of necessity or trust for the post-war world. Something like this was just par for the course, really.
A small chuckle came from the battleship. "I do not doubt that, I'm simply surprised you are willing to tell him about yourself. You hate anyone knowing other than all of us."
"Because I didn't want to get tossed into a loony bin." Thompson's reply was dry and to the point. Utah laughed at it, while he chuckled softly. "At any rate, we have the letter from the President. That'll have to be enough. I just...how to put this..."
Tapping his chin, the Admiral looked at the ceiling and frowned a little. Utah knew the future, of course. He had told her everything he knew about the Pacific War, just as he had told all the other girls. Sara the first and the one who knew the
most, obviously. Yet he hadn't spoken all that much about the
European part of the war. Unless he ran into Ranger or Wasp, he hadn't really felt the need.
But...
"...I really want Churchill to know, because he'll be the one who has to work with Schreiber. He needs to know how the war went, so he can avoid the same mistakes and knows how the Germans are going to act. I can't be here to guide him along, y'know?"
Utah nodded, slowly, as she looked over her shoulder at her own research. Before turning back to the Admiral, an aura of understanding forming around her. She knew what he meant. Not surprising, considering she was a smart one.
"Just like in the Pacific, since you taught us all those new tactics. You don't want us to suffer." Utah clarified, more for her own sake than anything. Nodding to herself, the battleship continued. "Do you think Churchill will trust Schreiber more if he knows about the future, sir?"
Thompson shook his head, "Not necessarily. Churchill isn't an idiot...if he puts two and two together like I did, he may be even more suspicious about Schreiber. But!" Holding a hand up to forestall Utah's likely complaint, the Admiral continued explaining. "It's probably a good thing if he does. I'm not great at this whole 'spy' business--"
"Not at all. You can't tell a lie to save your life." Utah cut in,
giggling at the dry look she received in return.
"---but I know it isn't a good idea to trust someone just because we have one of you girls vouching for him." Thompson finished, grumbling at Utah. "And I know I'm not good at lies. Damnit."
Electing to ignore her continued giggles, Thompson hopped to his feet and started to gather up papers to use. He needed to write down everything he remembered about the European War and the German leadership. Both to have it for the meeting with Churchill, and for when he left. He had very little hope he would happen to be here when Schreiber was able to make contact, and frankly, it wouldn't matter if he
was. He knew that
Bismarck hardly had the codes to get into British radio or wireless networks. And without those, any sort of long-distance
real-time communication was impossible. Schreiber would have to be a complete and utter fool to try and broadcast over the open like that, after all.
Which left them back at square one of this conversation. If he couldn't reliably talk with Schreiber in real time, he didn't see as much reason to stay here. He could help Churchill plan things out for later, he could give his opinions on Schreiber and hope for the best. The best bet that he had in the long run, really, was just getting that information to the Prime Minister and then getting back to Sara and the Pacific.
Intellectually, I know I'm more valuable on the home front. Supplying them with everything I know, even if a lot of it is guesswork. Can't tell them how to make assault rifles or nuclear engines, beyond the very basics, after all. And there's always knowing the future. But...that is going to be less and less useful the longer the war goes on, and the more things change. Not to mention my skills are best used with Sara. I may be a novice compared to Halsey, but with my ability to work with the girls...
It hadn't been fun, already, to have to explain to Roosevelt what an 'assault rifle' was and how he could point things in the right direction but not actually design one himself. And that was just
one thing the President had tried to get him to design.
"Okay...I'll get things together for my part. Utah?" Thompson set his papers down, and walked over to the desk where the battleship sat. "You figure anything out about Oak or Sascha yet? You'd know better than me, there."
Thompson could tell someone exactly how to summon a new ship girl. That knowledge was
completely useless for figuring out how Utah had summoned
herself. It was even less helpful now that Oak, Sascha, and that rumored Italian girl were around. More data points, yet not enough hard information to work from.
"I have
some ideas." Utah replied, looking up at the Admiral. Her scarred face twisted into a thoughtful frown, beneath her long grey hair. "The nearest thing I can tell is that all of us share some
need to come back. I desperately wanted to protect my daughters. Sascha wanted to save her Admiral. Oak...I think she wanted to save her crew? She doesn't say exactly what she felt, just that she needed to be able to fight. We should ask her about that when we see her again."
"Noted." Nodding along to that, the young Admiral placed a hand on Utah's shoulder. "We'll need to talk to both of them in a bit more detail. And see if Schreiber knows anything about that Italian. For now..."
Well, for now they at least had a
plan. They would go to Churchill the next time they saw the man, and set everything up, no matter what happened. Thompson and Utah would make it where, even if they had to go back to the Pacific, the British would know what to do. Schreiber...
If Schreiber is from the future or not, he will have a proper conduit into the British government now. If he is honest about wanting to end this war as soon as possible, even if it means losing in every way, then we need to help him. Millions of lives are at stake. Not just the people in the camps, either.
I have to hope that he knows what he's doing.
As I said in Purple Phoenix, this has been a...fun time. The year as a whole, really, has been a fun time. Sorry about how long this took. I wasn't expecting it to be this difficult to rally the muse for writing, well, anything. But...well. It's how things have gone. Hopefully this chapter makes up for that, at least a little bit.
Thompson is making proper moves and has a PLAN (tm). And we'll get him back to the Pacific, soon enough, as a result. Europe will still be primarily Schreiber's story.
