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Changing Destiny (Kancolle)

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Star_Trekker said:
They did have planes ready for Graf, Trägergruppe 186, one squadron of BF-109s, and two of Stukas.
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The question is how long till the Luftwaffe claims operational needs and steal those planes, or Goering sends an angry telegram and Ultra discovers the airfield where they are stored and gets bombed to death (its a high priority for both the Royal Navy and the RAF to prevent a german carrier from becoming operational).
 
Dark Mage said:
Well, if Bismarck survives the run but is damaged, she would still need to go to St. Nazaire for repairs.

Could we see a St. Nazaire raid a year early to trap Bismarck? That would keep Bismarck in France and Tirpitz in Norway.
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And incidentally giving Campbeltown or her substitute a BB operational kill to her name.
 
Twei said:
Heirloom jewelry makes more sense to me. Heirlooms and family resemblance. Enterprise is the mother of Enterprise is the mother of Enterprise, etc...
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And then the Shipgirl incident occurs, and when you stumble onto the resulting cuddle pile looking for Enterprise they all look at you at the same time.
 
I have a point to make about the each ship being a different person, even if bearing the same name. Would the ship of Theseus be the same ship as she was when she left as she was when she returned our would she change as ever part of her was replaced. Another example would be the Cutty Sark, which burned completely but was rebuilt complelty, would pre-fire Cutty Sark be the same person as post-fire Cutty Sark.
 
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Is a human a different person? We replace every cell in our bodies over our lifetime, save for some that die and aren't replaced (neurons, for example). But we're still the same person.

So a ship that has every part replaced, is still the same spirit. No different.
 
At first I was like "is this going to be a Doolittle joke?"

I see Hornet having a good time, seeing the sights, so I think it might not

My guard was lowered, turns out it was indeed a Doolittle joke
 
BF110C4 said:
The question is how long till the Luftwaffe claims operational needs and steal those planes, or Goering sends an angry telegram and Ultra discovers the airfield where they are stored and gets bombed to death (its a high priority for both the Royal Navy and the RAF to prevent a german carrier from becoming operational).
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I don't even know how many launches the planes themselves would survive considering the Germans decided to use catapults that looked like slingshots.

That said, that Hornet is adorable.
 
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Chapter 18
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    • Chapter 18:​

    "Utah..."

    Admiral Thompson frowned, as he walked up the gangplank to the old girl. There was the sound of pounding hammers and welding as repairs were made on her old hull. Unscheduled repairs. The young Admiral looked back over his shoulder, taking care to not trip as he reached the old girl's deck. Halsey raised an eyebrow at him, Richardson had a tight frown on his face as he looked at the repairs being done. And Commander Jackson was scanning the hulking form of the demilitarized battlewagon. If he really could hear Utah...

    Well.

    It wasn't hard to see why she was being repaired.

    "Admiral?" A soft female voice spoke up, one that Thompson recognized quite well. His head twisted around, green eyes locking on to the girl. Long grey dress. Grey hair. A face that, while young, looked old all the same. USS Utah.

    "Nice to see you, Utah." Thompson whispered, the sound of the work covering his voice up from Admiral Richardson. "Sorry I haven't visited before."

    Utah shook her head, a weary smile crossing her pretty face, "No, that isn't a problem sir. I understand why you couldn't." The old girl sighed softly though, as she looked over at the other men. Halsey had locked eyes with her, but Richardson had made no sign he could see the girl. Utah turned back to the first Admiral at that, her petite shoulders shrugging slightly. "I'm not like Arizona or Enterprise. Visiting me is something that very few Admirals would ever do, and you did not need the attention."

    "Maybe," the young man hardly denied the point, even though he still shook his head. "Still though, I'm sorry for what it's worth. Now, you've made the breakthrough?"

    "Yes," and just like that, the age seemed to lift from Utah's shoulders. She stood straighter, a bright smile crossing her face, as the old battleship looked past Thompson and towards her XO. Jackson met her expression, tipping his cover down slightly as he talked with Admiral Richardson. Utah's smile widened at that, while she turned back to the time-traveler. "I'm quite happy about that, Admiral. Having Commander Jackson to talk to is...is..."

    The battleship waved her hand, words failing her. The smile she shot the Admiral was clear enough on how she felt anyway. Thompson could hardly help the smile crossing his own face. With the war ever closer, seeing the girls happy was like a balm to the soul.

    "Admiral Thompson," a voice speaking behind him had the Admiral flinching though.

    Turning around, he saw Admiral Richardson giving him a flat look. The elder man had crossed his arms, staring Thompson down with a calculating eye. Flinching again, Thompson looked to Halsey, hoping for some support. The gruff Admiral just shook his head, a hint of an amused smirk crossing his face.

    Traitor...

    Mentally grumbling at the other Admiral, Thompson returned his attention to Richardson. Well, what to do now? He didn't have the slightest clue how to explain the situation. He hadn't thought he would need to.

    Well, I...you see...it's like this... the Admiral shook his head, mentally slapping himself. Talking like that wouldn't help!

    "Yes, sir?" Instead, he settled for simple, fighting the urge to hide behind Utah. For all the good that would do.

    Richardson merely raised an eyebrow, uncrossing his arms. The older man tapped the railing by his side, an almost musical note ringing through the air. It only made Thompson flinch again.

    "Rumors, Admiral," Richardson spoke, his voice low as he looked at the men running across Utah's deck. "Ever since Admiral Halsey ordered that ghost around..."

    "Damn it," the Admiral in question grunted, holding up his hands as Richardson turned around. "I'll have that man reassigned to the middle of nowhere, James."

    The older Admiral's lip twitched, but that was it before he turned back to Thompson, "Regardless. The rumor mill would have me believed that Enterprise is haunted, and that Bill can order her around. I would have assumed it was a joke. I've heard many in my time at sea, and that is not even the wildest. However."

    "Utah did it to me." Jackson stepped forward at that, looking at Utah. A small smile crossed his gruff features as he did so, though it was only him smiling.

    Utah herself was shuffling nervously, entirely unlike her normal calm-and-collected attitude. She looked at Admiral Thompson, an apologetic expression crossing her face. She knew what she had done had done harm, then.

    Nothing for it though.

    "And Commander Jackson reported to me immediately, to confirm he had not had a woman smuggle herself aboard his ship," Richardson continued, his eyes following Jackson's, though it was clear he could not see Utah. "Or, that he was not hallucinating. As of yet, I see no evidence that he is not."

    Admiral Thompson bit his lip to keep from speaking. This wasn't Halsey. The man behind Richardson had already been approached by Enterprise first, and was at least somewhat open to the idea to start. The man loved his ship like a daughter. Though Thompson had to fight back a snort at the idea. Enterprise thought of him as a father, more than Halsey saw her as a daughter.

    Still though, he sobered quickly enough.

    Richardson had no such connection to any of the ships here. Hell, did he have that kind of connection to any ship? Thompson cursed his lack of knowledge there, clenching his fist by his side. He didn't know everything...and he really wished he did right about now. Nothing for it though. If he couldn't convince Richardson here, what could he...

    "Furthermore." Richardson broke into his thoughts, the Admiral's eyes boring directly into Thompson. Like a hot knife through butter, that stare cut right through the younger man's defenses. He had never properly experienced The Glare before...

    "Sir?" Thompson gulped, despite everything telling him not to.

    "Utah told me that if I wanted to know more, to ask you, Admiral." Jackson answered, his voice somehow making it very clear what he felt about that. Yeah, this was a long-serving engineer alright.

    And all it did was make Thompson palm his face, sighing into his hand. Well, this had gone belly up quickly. "Utah. Why?"

    The battleship in question twitched, running a hand along some of her long hair, "I didn't know he would go to Admiral Richardson sir. I had thought he would do what Admiral Halsey did, instead."

    "Well, that clearly didn't happen." Thompson grumbled, removing his hand to look at Richardson again. Squaring his shoulders, Thompson banished the worry from his mind. In for a penny, in for a pound. If he couldn't convince Richardson here, his career was over. His chance to save these girls was over. Everything was over.

    He couldn't let that happen.

    "Admiral, I will be completely honest with you. I'm sure you've heard sailors...engineers like Jackson here," Thompson waved his hand at the other man, who looked affronted at the insinuation. "They've always said that their ship is unique. I may be a carrier man, but I'm sure if you pick any two men off any two destroyers, they'd argue to hell and back their ship is unique and special. That she's better than her sister."

    Richardson nodded, his lip twitching, "Yes, I have. I commanded old Augusta for two years, Admiral Thompson. I would argue she was different from Houston or Chicago, no matter the class. Where are you going with this?"

    "Simple," the younger man brought his hand down on Utah's railing, making the battleship flinch and send him a small frown. He didn't notice though, all attention focused on Richardson. "Each ship is unique. Each and every warship ever built, has a spirit all her own. If you want to see her, you just have to...love her. Let her in."

    At least Enterprise helped confirm that theory...

    Thompson fell silent after he said his piece, warily watching Richardson to see what the other man would do. And at this point, all he got was a thoughtful expression, the elder Admiral pacing along the old deck. His footsteps were muffled by the noise of work on Utah, even when his feet carried him on planks that were cracked and ruined by age and target practice. Richardson paid that no mind, though, as he merely continued walking.

    Sweat ran down Thompson's neck, as he waited for...for something. Hell, at this point he'd take being called crazy. This silence was getting to him!

    "I won't argue your main point, Admiral Thompson," Richardson finally spoke, stopping his pacing long enough to take his glasses from his face. The Admiral rubbed them with the hem of his uniform collar, as he continued speaking. "Each and every ship is unique, I've known that from the moment I first stepped on Delaware and served as her engineer. But, the idea that they have a spirit is..."

    "Unheard of?" Thompson tried, his voice cracking slightly.

    "No," Richardson's words made the younger Admiral gape at him, as the elder man put his glasses back on his face. "No. I've heard some more superstitious men claim that their ship had a soul that watched out for them. Kept their ship intact longer than should have been possible. Warned them if there was something wrong with the boilers. Hell, I could swear that Delaware complained when we pushed her too hard."

    It was too bad that Delaware was long gone then. Maybe that was a ship that might have worked?

    "If you want me to believe that wasn't just superstition running rampant, you will have to prove it." Richardson finished, looking at Thompson with not even a hint of amusement in his face now. There was nothing but The Admiral. The man who would chew you up and spit you out without a moment's warning, if you did something to deserve it. Thompson felt like he was right back in basic, as Richardson spoke up one last time. "I don't care for the specifics. Prove it, and make it clear you are not imagining things."

    Admiral Thompson clenched his fist, despite every instinct he had screaming that Richardson was not to be messed with. This man was his most potent supporter, until and unless Halsey proved himself again. He couldn't lose Richardson's support. But...but...

    "Damn it, Admiral." Thompson got out, because really, his career was shot if he couldn't convince the man anyway. No point in holding back. "The only way to see one of these girls, is to love your ship and let them connect with you. I've always been fond of Sara. That let me see her, the one time she tried actually talking with me..."

    Not true, but this was one case where lying was the only option.

    "And now that I can see her, I can see all the other girls too. Same with Bill. He cares for Enterprise more than anyone else ever has, and that let him see her once she tried to talk to him," the Admiral frowned, his fist clenched so tightly it may draw blood. He didn't notice. "It's really that simple, but I don't know if you care enough about any of these..."

    Biting back a sigh, Thompson unclenched his fist, running his hand through his short hair instead. This wasn't easy. He was taking a hell of a risk here. But he just didn't have time to convince Richardson the old-fashioned...

    Hah, old-fashioned...it hadn't been that long.

    Regardless, there just wasn't time to convince him the way Halsey had been convinced. Richardson could only be patient for so long. It was only so long before the rumors reached another Admiral. Willson, for example. And they would not be as forgiving, especially since Thompson couldn't rely on them supporting him just because he was a fellow Admiral. Hell, some of them may be happy to see the 'damn carrier man' gone. He had to have Richardson's support.

    But damn it, it wasn't going to be that...

    "Admiral?" Utah's soft voice spoke up, as the battleship's soft footsteps walked up to his side. Thompson turned his head, green eyes locking on the old battlewagon. Utah returned the look, brushing a lock of grey hair from her face as she did so. Her smile was small, but genuine, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've done enough sir. Let me try."

    "Utah, he doesn't..." Thompson spoke up, uncaring if Richardson saw. It wasn't like he had a choice.

    But the battleship just held a finger to his lips, shaking her head, "No, sir, he doesn't. But I have some experience with trying to talk to someone who isn't attached to me. I may have been ready to give up, until Joe could hear me. But I made progress." Stepping away from Thompson, Utah squared her shoulders. Her dress shifted around her hips, as the battleship walked over to Richardson. "If I can make progress, nearly have someone who has no care for me, hear me? I can make Admiral Richardson hear me as well!"

    Utah shouted the last part, stopping right in front of Richardson. Who, for the first time, had his eyes widen slightly.

    "What..." the Admiral blinked slowly, reaching a hand up to his ear.

    "I told you," Utah sent a smile over her shoulder, winking at Thompson in a way entirely unlike what he remembered. "I almost got through to someone who had no reason to believe I was here. Admiral Richardson...he knows I should be here. Give me a day, and he will be able to see me. Just one day."

    This confidence was entirely unlike what Thompson was used to. But...if Utah thought it would work, he would be perfectly willing to let her. He didn't see any other way to convince Admiral Richardson...and if this was what it took, so be it.

    I hope she can pull it off...



    Far, far away from sunny Hawaii, dark clouds hung over choppy seas. A warship's long, slim bow cut through the swells, drenching her crew in the salty sea spray. Drenching her in the salty spray, as the spirit of the ship stood on her prow. Bright blue eyes looked out at the water, scanning in a way none of her crew could. Her eyes. Her radar. She was looking, even though it couldn't possibly help her crew.

    Still, she was the pride of the Royal Navy, and she would bloody well prove it this time. Shooting at defenseless allies...no. That would not be what HMS Hood was remembered for.

    "Why are we out here...?" Hood breathed, the taste of saltwater on her tongue as her bow cleaved through a particularly rocky swell. Hood hardly noticed, though the lingering uncomfort of her many issues remained. Not least her boilers, struggling to maintain her speed through the rough seas. "Would the Jerries really try coming out in this?"

    "Probably. You know they would use the storm as cover, almost got Glorious that way!" A cheerful voice rang in her ear.

    Hood couldn't help a smile crossing her face, as blue eyes turned away from the dark clouds and towards her consort. HMS Repulse, her older...well, sister didn't quite fit. But in lieu of having her own sisters, Hood considered the elder girl at least as close as she would ever get. Repulse was cutting through the waves just as she was, easily keeping pace with her. Their speed shouldn't have been all that different.

    But Repulse had been kept in much better shape than Hood.

    "Perhaps," Hood shrugged her uniform-clad shoulders. And snapped her hand up, as a gust of wind nearly blew her tall hat off. Shaking her head in amusement that, Hood turned to look back at her comrade and the gaggle of destroyers escorting the pair. "Still, I don't know if we can catch anything in this soup."

    Clearly, Hood couldn't see Repulse herself. But she could easily imagine the other girl shrugging as well, red hair flying out in the wind, "Eh, I'm sure if there's anything out there we'll catch them. 'sides, can't you just go to your Admiral and ask the wanker why we're out here?"

    Unable to help it, Hood giggled softly, "You know he can't hear me."

    "Well...yeah. But you could still try!" Repulse was probably pouting now, and the thought just made Hood giggle more.

    Oh, times like this she liked being able to just...relax. Not think about what she had done, in the sunny Med.

    "Well, I'll go at least try." Hood tugged her hat down, turning away from her bow.

    "Good luck!" Repulse cheekily shot back.

    Rolling her eyes, Hood stepped down from her prow. The wind and spray continued to batter away at her long hull, as the aching battlecruiser walked along her old deck. Her feet carried her surely and steadily, despite her hull rocking in the waves. She ducked around members of her crew, the young men grumbling irritably about being at general quarters in such horrible weather. Hood felt for them...she really did.

    But, she couldn't do a thing about it.

    And so, she instead ducked her head, her hat scraping along the bulkhead forming a doorway into her conning tower. Hood dodged around a harried man running out onto deck, as she mounted the stairs leading to her bridge. Long legs took the steps two at a time, as she quickly moved to her command station. Hood didn't really need to rush, honestly.

    She wanted to know why they were out here almost as much as Repulse did, however.

    "Any sign of the Jerries?" A male voice spoke up, as Hood ducked into her bridge.

    "None yet, Admiral." Another replied, the sound of a plotting table being used echoing through the bridge. The clanking of wooden figures on other wooden figures was quite distinctive.

    Hood frowned at that, as her bright blue eyes scanned her bridge. Low lights illuminated men hunched over instruments, as they worked. Her helmsman was clearly straining as he kept her on a straight and narrow path along their patrol route. Past them all though, was her current Admiral. Lancelot Holland was still somewhat unfamiliar to her, but Hood vastly preferred him to her old Admiral...the bastard who had forced her to hurt her former allies.

    Pushing those painful thoughts aside, Hood instead focused on the present. On figuring out why the bloody hell they were out in the North Sea like this.

    "Admiral...please tell me there's a reason we're out in this mess?" Hood spoke up, not really expecting an answer. And, she didn't get one. Oh, her shoulders did fall when that happened, but it wasn't something she hadn't expected.

    Her Admiral completely ignored what she had said though, instead turning to her Captain. The two men leaned their heads together, whispering something. Hood could hear it...she could hear anything on her hull, if she were so inclined. But they clearly didn't want the rest of the bridge crew to know...

    What was it?

    "You sure this will work, Admiral?" Her Captain was asking, his voice worried.

    Holland grimaced at that, brushing his hair back, "'Course not. But, bloody MI6 swears by this."

    MI6?

    Hood blinked slowly, as she heard that. The Secret Intelligence Service...what could they have to do with this?

    "Maybe, but I don't like it sir. We're relying on intel from the spooks. Not even codes!" Her Captain clearly wasn't happy, as he crossed his arms over his chest. The man stuck his jaw out, daring Holland to disagree with him.

    "And they swear that their source is one-hundred percent secure. I don't like it either, but if they say that those German battlecruisers are out here..." Holland, for his part, sighed. The man looked much older than he was, as his eyes turned to look out at the weather surrounding them. "Scharnhorst. Gneisenau. If we can catch those two, the Nazi's will be out their best ships."

    Even as he said that, Hood was gaping. The German's only battlecruisers...if she could fight them, it might be enough to erase the stain on her honor from Mers-el-Kebir. And if not, it was at least a chance...to prove she was worth it. She was the Pride of the Royal Navy. And Hood wanted a chance...no. She needed a chance to prove this. She didn't much care for where the information had come from.

    Only if it was accurate, and she would finally have the chance to prove herself as something other than a pretty show piece.
    Funny story.

    If you'll note, Glorious escaped being sunk. This is because of Blucher not sinking, making the invasion of Norway go faster...and leaving her out of position where she would have otherwise been. It has also caused a cascade of butterflies.

    Hood, historically, was sent out on October 28 (remember, we're in the 20s of October right now) 1940 to intercept Admiral Scheer. Historically, of course, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were both laid up for repairs at this point. Why? Well, the former got torped by one of Glorious' escorting DDs. The latter also got a torp shoved up her skirt, when she was sortied to draw attention away from her big sister going back for repairs.

    Clearly, neither happened here. So...

    Fun times.
     
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