Chapter 23
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
Chapter 23
Staring out at the dockyard workers swarming over her hull, Saratoga sighed softly. This was far from her first refit, but on the other hand, it was the first since she had...met her Admiral. Yes, that was true. She had never really had to worry about being apart from him, for any significant amount of time. He would spend time with the other girls, sure. Sometimes, Sara had to squash a hint of unfamiliar jealousy with how much time her Admiral spent with the others. Not so much Little E- oh, Captain Halsey would tear Admiral Thompson apart if he tried anything -but Arizona, certainly.
It was silly of her of course. Why would she need to worry? Her Admiral was her Admiral.
But still, she worried. She worried even more now, knowing that Admiral Thompson was going to be across the country from her, for who even knew how long. President Roosevelt was a navy man, through and through, no matter his civilian credentials. He had been the most active Assistant Naval Secretary there ever was. He had pushed to have the ships worked on to create jobs. If there wasany politician, any President who would listen to what the Admiral had to say, it was Roosevelt.
And still I worry. I can't help it, I've never had an Admiral so precious to me before. Not even Captain Halsey. I don't want him hurt when I'm not there to help.
Sara wasn't blind, nor deaf. And while she knew she was still learning how to be human, to some extent, she also knew. She knew that her Admiral relied on her to keep the demons away. To stand strong and do what he needed to do. And now, he was going to be so far...
"Hey, you okay?"
Speak of the devil...
"I'm fine, Admiral," Sara turned around, brushing a lock of blue hair from her face. The sound of the dock workers faded away, a small smile crossing the carrier's face when she looked at her Admiral.
For his part, Thompson returned the smile, though his was substantially more weary, "Good to know. I was worried that all this work might be hurting you." The Admiral rubbed at his face, sighing ever so softly when he did. His eyes looked the carrier up and down, the smile at least remaining in place. "I'm still not really sure how all this works, if we're being honest with each other."
"I don't think anyone is sir," the carrier walked forward, her footsteps unheard over the clang and din of work being done on her hull. She brushed against Admiral Thompson's side, smile widening at the now-familiar contact. "Least of all us. I do feel it, you know. Like an itch I can't scratch, as they chip away at my paint and rust. But it's not painful."
"And that is good to know." Thompson repeated himself, brushing his own arm against Sara's. "Very good. The last thing I want is you to be in pain while I'm not here."
That struck closer to home than Sara would have otherwise liked to admit. She shifted uncomfortably, drawing closer to the Admiral. To his warmth and steady presence, taking comfort from it.
And she had just been thinking that she was the one keeping him calm, not the other way around. How ironic.
"Hey now, what's wrong?" The young man asked, letting Sara lean against his side. Green eyes were questioning, as Thompson twisted his head to look down on the carrier. "I say something bad?"
Sara shook her head, "No, not that at all. I'm just...it's silly, really."
"Nothing is silly if it worries you." Thompson shook his own head, smile crossing his weary lips. "So spill."
A soft giggle came from the carrier girl's lips when the Admiral said that, her grip tightening on his arm. Even in serious situation, he could find some way to make her laugh. It was one reason why she was so very fond of her Admiral. Captain Halsey cared about his ships and the men underneath him, but he was always...apart. He maintained the proper distance from his subordinates, for all that he cared about them and tried to make their lives easier. That was changing with Little E, but just with her.
Admiral Thompson, on the other hand...well. He'd always been willing to drop anything to talk with her. To just spend time with her.
It was not a stretch to say Sara valued that dearly. And she knew it was only because he had lived with another her for years, working together with the other ship girls. The Admiral knew how to act with her and was able to act so calm and close, because he had done it before. Regardless though, it didn't change how much she appreciated it, especially now.
"I'm..." Sara sighed softly, burrowing deeper into Thompson's side. Her blue hair fell around both of them, entangling the two together with the wind blowing strands between them. Sighing again, the carrier looked up at her Admiral, "Like I said, it's silly. But I'm not used to you not being there. I went years, over a decade really, without worrying about that. Even Captain Halsey was just temporary...my Captains and Admirals rotated out and that was how it worked. But now that I can talk with you...I..."
"Don't want me to leave." Thompson finished, brushing a hand through Sara's long hair. The girl leaned into that touch, small smile crossing her face. Thompson just snorted softly, but didn't stop moving either, "Yeah, I can see why. I can't say I understand what it feels like to not be able to talk with anyone, and then when you get the chance...have that one person leave. But you know?"
The Admiral pulled away slightly, though not far enough that Sara couldn't still grab his arm and hold on tightly. His face, smile or no, had gone rather more serious. Green eyes stared into identical ones, the man making sure his carrier understood just how serious he was being.
"I can't always be here, Sara. When you're in refit, I would normally be reassigned. Since you and Lex are in the same division, I'd be assigned to her if I weren't going with Admiral Richardson to Washington." Thompson let his serious expression drop ever so slightly, a hint of wry amusement overtaking his face. "Between the two of us, I almost prefer going to Washington. Lex is nice and all, but she is so...teasing. I much prefer serving with you. No offense to your sister."
Sara couldn't help it. She let go of her Admiral, and held a dainty hand to her mouth, soft laughs coming from behind it. She knew her sister better than anyone, especially now that they talked to each other regularly. Lex was...well, teasing probably fit. Sara could understand why her Admiral preferred her, knowing his personality like she did.
And of course, she preferred that he stay with her anyway, so there was that.
"Still though, until you're done with your refit, I probably won't be around. I imagine I might get some shore leave once I get done in Washington, provided they don't just toss me in an institution..." The Admiral shuddered at that. He knew what institutions in the days before mental care was really understood were like. And he had no desire to end up in one of those. "Anyway, if I do get shore leave, I need to see the family. I may not be back for months, you know that, right?"
I do...I don't like it, but I do. Admiral...
A small nod came from the carrier as she began talking again, "I understand that sir. I just...don't like it. I don't want you to be away that long, since no one else here cares about me like you do. I have Ari to talk to, but her refit is almost done. Then it's just me and whoever else comes around and that's..."
Thompson finally dropped the serious expression on his face. He pulled his arm from Sara's grip, making the carrier grab at him to try and pull him back.
She didn't need to try.
Because the Admiral had only pulled his arm away to wrap it around Sara's shoulder, pulling the carrier to his side. A brilliant flush crossed Sara's face at that, and indeed, Thompson's own. But at the same time, the smile on her face had grown softer. Happier. Sara leaned into the man's side, quite content where she was. She wasn't sure if this was really proper. In fact, if Admiral Richardson saw, he would probably have some choice words for the younger Admiral.
But, honestly? The girl couldn't bring herself to care. The warmth of her Admiral's arm wrapped around her brought comfort she really needed right now. And she wasn't about to give that up, no sir.
"Don't worry about that Sara. If all goes well, more people will be able to hear you girls soon enough," Thompson squeezed her shoulder gently, allowing the girl to stay burrowed into his side.
"But I..." Comfortable or not, the blue-haired carrier still tried to speak. To protest.
She didn't really want other people to talk to her. Not in the way that Ari did, only caring about talking with Admiral Thompson. But Sara, nonetheless, cared more about talking with him than anyone else. If she had the choice between her crew and her Admiral, she knew which she would pick. Not that she didn't want to talk with other people. Just...
"And I'll be back soon enough. Relax, Sara." Thompson grinned down on her, a confident tilt to his lips. Confidence that was almost infectious, and entirely unlike him. "While I may be gone for a bit, so long as this goes like I'm hoping, I won't let them assign me to another ship. Besides, it makes sense to keep us together since we're so familiar with each other by now. Right?"
Sara smiled softly, "Right."
Falling silent at that, the two looked out at the workers running across her hull. It was only a matter of time until Admiral Thompson had to leave...
But at least Sara knew. Knew that he would come back.
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"Saying goodbye always is painful."
Admiral Thompson pulled his cover down, covering his wet eyes. The clang and clatter of men laboring away on Saratoga faded behind him, replaced by the roar of an antique- to him at least -car motor. He sat in the back of an officer's staff car, Admiral Richardson his only companion. The older man had given him the chance to go see Sara one last time before they left, and for that, Thompson could never thank him quite enough.
For all his confidence around Sara, he truly didn't know if he would ever see her again.
"I imagine that is more true now than before," Richardson spoke, his gruff voice contrasting with the look on his face. The usual 'Admiral expression' as Thompson had heard ship girls call it, was missing. Instead, there was just a regular older man sitting with him. "I know that it was hard seeing Delaware for the last time, and that was without knowing what is really aboard these ships."
Thompson nodded, not disputing the point, "Exactly. And Sara...I don't blame her, really. I wouldn't want to be apart from the one person who cared enough about me to actually see me. And talk to me."
Though, that isn't entirely true.
"Indeed," Richardson nodded himself, expression dropping at least somewhat back into it's usual form as he did so. The man pulled papers from the briefcase by his side, leafing through them while he continued to speak, his eyes roaming over the pages. "Nonetheless, there is no time to waste on what-ifs. We must be as prepared as possible for this, you understand that, correct?"
"Of course, Admiral." The younger man agreed, his own briefcase unopened by his side.
Thompson had gone over these papers so many times, he had them memorized. The work he had done with Halsey and Sara was extensive, and as well-prepped as he could possibly hope to be, going into this.
And it still may not be enough.
"Now, the important thing to remember is that we have no hard evidence," Richardson continued, holding up a photograph of Saratoga. That picture had been an attempt to see if the ship girls could appear on film, and while Thompson could see Sara...his subordinates could not. It was almost like a ghost picture, in a way. "We have no way of proving, without relying on visiting a ship, that we are saying the truth." Putting the picture away, Richardson narrowed his eyes, his glasses doing little to hide the intensity of the expression. "Which means, we must hope that Admiral King is willing to listen and visit a warship."
"Or the President," Thompson pointed out. In any other situation, the idea of going straight to the President of the United States with something like this would be ludicrous. Why would the President care?
But Franklin Delano Roosevelt was not the average President. If any one man in the Oval Office would care enough about the Navy to potentially see a ship girl, it was that man.
Richardson just nodded again, "Or the President indeed. Now, is there any ship you would suggest we visit, Admiral?"
Any ship indeed. Thompson had familiarized himself with naval deployments, and had come down to just one option. An old warhorse, older than even Arizona. One that had enough history to her name, even now, that Roosevelt may be willing to agree to visit her. If he believed anything at all, about what the two Admirals had to say. Because...
What better ship to have the President visit in 1941, than a battleship?
"USS New York."
The sounds of dockyard workers were the same, no matter where one was in the world. In the United Kingdom, there was a bit more smoke and yelling than others. In Japan, it may be more regimented and formal. In the United States, speed was the name of the game. In Germany?
Efficiency.
Or so, Bismarck liked to tell herself. Workers clamored around her hull and those of the cruisers and destroyers nearby. Hamburg was a busy port, during peace or war. That the greatest War known to man raged across Europe right now, helped in forcing the men to work themselves even faster and harder than usual. Germany faced no continental foes, for the moment. But the constant fear of English attacks kept the men working round the clock, to finish the pride of the Kriegsmarine as quickly as possible.
The loss of Gneisenau had made the need ever greater. The Führer had been greatly angered by Admiral Lütjens failure, and had forced the yard workers to get Bismarck done as quickly as possible.
And for all of that...
It wasn't what had her attention.
"Admiral, you can...that can't be true. It...Germany would never..." The blonde battleship held a hand to her heart, staring at the old man across from her with wide blue eyes. Admiral Schreiber returned the expression, though his was far more tired. The aged man looked even older than his already long years, slumped shouldered and tired.
"I truly wish it were not the truth, Bismarck," Schreiber whispered. His voice, once happy at the sight of her, was worn-down. Exhausted. Weak.
"But it can't be," Bismarck continued to protest. She loved Germany. She loved the nation that had built her, and would serve it to her dying breath. She couldn't comprehend that the nation she so loved, could be so...horrible.
Evil.
Her Admiral just shook his head sadly, "Bismarck, if there is one thing I learned long ago, it was that no matter how much we Germans may wish this didn't happen, it did. Germany was the cause of one of the worst events in human history, and there is nothing changing that."
The old man climbed to his feet, walking over to the end of his cabin. Blue eyes looked out at the harbor, at the men working to finish fitting out the mighty battleship. Schreiber sighed softly, shaking his head, but not turning around.
"The Holocaust, as it has become known. That word, has so many connotations for Germans. Our greatest shame. Our greatest failure." Only as he said that, did Schreiber turn around. For all the weariness in his expression, there was now an undisguised disgust and anger as well. An expression Bismarck might have feared being directed at her...
Were it directed at her.
"We, the German people, allowed the rise of the Nazi Party. Many of my brothers and sisters, though in the past from my perspective, knew about this. But it was something we put from our minds. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," The old Admiral listed off, his voice growing more bitter with each statement. "And because we let it happen, Germany was forever scarred and we still struggle to make up for what happened. Do you understand, Bismarck? Why I wish for nothing more than to stop this madness?"
Bismarck, however much she desperately wanted to believe that her Admiral was lying to her...couldn't. She shook her head, the unfamiliar feeling of tears falling from her eyes making the battleship rub at her face. She...couldn't believe it. And yet, she knew he wasn't lying. Her Admiral, her precious Admiral, had never lied to her. Not once. He hadn't even twisted the truth. He had told her, without any prompting, exactly why he could see her. Talk to her.
A man from the future...it seemed too impossible to believe, but yet, it was the truth.
And now, he was telling her that the Germany she loved and served happily, was a nation doomed to ruin. A society marching in lockstep to become the most reviled state in modern human history. And there was nothing she could hope to do about it. The 'little man with the funny mustache' was the progenitor of a mass murder the likes of which Europe had never seen.
What was she supposed to feel?
"I...I wish I could do something to help you, Admiral," Bismarck finally got out. Her strong voice, once a source of pride, was now weak and cracked. "But I'm just a battleship...no one else can even see me."
At that, Admiral Schreiber shook his head again. The old man moved from the window, his steps sure and steady despite his age. He walked right to Bismarck, leaning down to place a hand on her shoulder. Schreiber looked directly in her eyes, squeezing Bismarck's shoulder softly. Almost fatherly.
"You are helping me immensely, just by being here, my old friend." Schreiber smiled gently, sitting down next to the battleship. "Believe me, while I am fond of Blücher, it is nice to have you once again."
Face flushing slightly, Bismarck nodded with a small smile of her own, "Thank you, Admiral."
"No, thank you." Smile remaining in place, the Admiral released his grip on Bismarck's shoulder, looking down at his feet. "Even so, I sometimes wonder. If I am doing the right thing, in trying to help Germany. Does such a nation deserve help? The Germany I serve, is not the Germany I know. Nor is it the Germany I grew up in. And yet, here I am. An Admiral in the Kriegsmarine, in command of the pride of her fleet."
Sighing, Schreiber clenched his hands by his sides. He turned his head to look at Bismarck, worry lines drawing his aged face even tighter.
"Germany, the Federal Republic I served, only existed because the Third Reich was burnt to the ground. Torn asunder, forced to endure occupation by both the West and the Communists. The unconditional surrender of the Nazis allowed for a proper democracy to come into being, one that I was proud to serve. And that could stand in the heart of Europe, a nation reborn and free from the shadows of her past."
Bismarck felt something stir in her chest, when her Admiral talked of the Federal Republic. A sense of pride that she had lost, when thinking of the Germany she served. A sense that yes, Germany was doing wrong. But her nation was not evil. Her people were not monsters. Germany could, and had, proven over and over that when given the chance...she could be a force for good in the world.
The young battleship wanted, so desperately, to be able to say that.
But...
"Admiral, you said that Germany was burnt to the ground." Bismarck pointed out, worry tinging her voice. No matter the horrors of the Third Reich, was it...truly worth it? "How many died? How did Germany...?"
Schreiber looked directly into Bismarck's eyes, not flinching. Not moving back an inch. Dark blue stared into ice blue, silence in the room.
At least, until the Admiral let out a world-weary sigh.
"Somewhere between six to seven million Germans will die, if the War goes as I remember," Schreiber turned away, his eyes looking at his lined hands. Hands that clenched in the fabric of his uniform, nearly tearing it were it not for Bismarck's hand landing on his own. The Admiral smiled at her, but it didn't last. The expression faded, in place of a pale and sick expression. "Eleven million will die in the camps. The Soviets will lose over twenty million."
Bismarck flinched back, her own pale face becoming whiter than the snow lining her deck. Her eyes were impossibly wide, and why shouldn't they be? That was...impossible. Millions...she couldn't even comprehend how so many could die, in so little time. How? How could the war possibly get that violent and...no. She knew why. Her Admiral had told her.
The Nazis and Communists alike, would stop at nothing to kill each other. Add in the Nazi policies in relation to undesirables and...it made the battleship sick. If she were capable of eating, she would likely be throwing up.
It was so horrible to imagine.
"Now you see my dilemma," Schreiber laughed humorlessly, the sound broken. His eyes turned to look at her once again, pain clear as day in those blue pools. "I know the future. I know that, for Germany to become the Germany I remember and the Germany I know she can be? I have to accept that Germany must be burnt to the ground, cleansed of the Nazi Party and it's terrible legacy. And yet, that means I must allow untold millions to die? Untold numbers of cities and villages be destroyed?"
The Admiral's shoulders slumped, his face falling into his hands. Bismarck hesitantly reached out, and wrapped her arms around the man. He was...he was almost like a father to her. Or, at the very least, a fond uncle. And she hated seeing him like this.
But she couldn't very well blame him. How painful must it be, to know what was coming? Know that he couldn't possibly stop millions upon millions of deaths and so much destruction? If Germany was to become the Germany it could be, did it truly require so much death? So much ruin?
"Is there anything we can do, Admiral? Perhaps remove the Führer and end the War before that comes to pass?" Bismarck suggested, desperate for a way to help her Admiral. Even as she cursed that she couldn't do anything.
Schreiber sighed into his hands, "I have asked myself that question many times Bismarck and..."
Bismarck could only listen, as her Admiral told her what he had come to believe...
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