In 1945, as the war was drawing to a close, the Allies lost one of their best battlefleets. Or did they? As a new war rages on, history catches up and a new course is charted for a war-weary nation.
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Come and Take It: A Alternate History Kancolle Story
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Prologue
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
June 8, 1945
Location: Middle of the East China Sea
Commander Gregory Smith shifted in his seat nervously. It wasn't every day that a Fleet Admiral personally requested your transfer, and it was even rarer to get transferred to the First Fleet, one of the Navy's finest battle squadrons.
"She should be coming in view off our port side, Sir!" the pilot yelled back.
Commander Smith turned around in his seat to look out the small window. Beyond the spinning blades of one of the helicopter's rotors, he could see the white froth of a ship's wake.
"Lone Star, this is Eagle Six coming in at heading one-six-nine, elevation two-two-zero. Requesting clearance to land," the copilot reported into his radio. There was a brief pause before a muffled reply responded.
"Clear for Priority Landing on Zone 1, Charlie," he said to the pilot, "Looks like we kept them waiting."
Outside, the dark ship started to light up as running lights and spotlights started to come on. As the aircraft came closer, the final lights turned on, illuminating the ship's name spelled out in large white letters on her stern: TEXAS. The railing on the fantail passed under the window, and Commander Smith stared down the barrels of an anti-aircraft gun mount as the helicopter slowed to a stop and then started to descend. With a squeak from the landing gear, they landed on the deck and the engines spooled down. Smith began to unbuckle from the seat, but the pilot stopped him.
"I wouldn't do that yet Sir," he said, "Just give it another minute."
With a giant clunk, the aircraft started slowly moving down into the ship. The commander winced as bright light flooded the fuselage from outside. With another giant clunk, all movement stopped besides the slow roll of the ship. All three occupants stood and walked back to the rear hatch. The copilot unlocked the hatch and pulled a lever to start the hatch slowly falling to the ground.
The two airmen turned to Smith, "Welcome board USS Texas, Commander. The best dame in the fleet."
"I should hope so," someone said.
All three turned around to see an older man in a white uniform. The pilots snapped to, saluting the officer.
"Admiral Davis, sir!", they cried in unison, as the admiral returned the salute.
"Charlie, Jethro", he said, nodding at the two in turn, "Not too much trouble getting back I assume?"
"No sir, smooth sailing all the way from the Ticonderoga," the pilot responded.
"Glad to hear it, dismissed," the Admiral stated before turning to the commander, "You're Commander Gregory Smith, Class of 1934. Served aboard the battleships Pennsylvania, Nevada, Iowa and Arizona, carriers Saratoga, Enterprise, Hornet, and Essex, and the cruiser Northampton. I've heard great things about you, Smith. Let's hope you can live up to your reputation."
The Admiral turned and walked out of the helicopter, leaving Smith to grab his bag and follow shortly behind. Outside the hanger, the corridor was strangely quiet compared to the hive of activity that was the chamber they just left. It wasn't until they turned a corner did the hall get busy. Sailors packed into the space, going about their business, all of them standing aside as the Admiral carved a wake through the crowd.
"This here is Broadway, the starboard side main passageway going from the hangars up to Turret One," Admiral Davis explained over the noise, "There's an almost identical passageway on the port side we call Bourbon Street. These two passageways are crucial to the ship's combat performance and out of battle access. Both sides' secondary battery guns are accessed from these passageways, as is the mess hall, library, workshop, quartermaster, citadel, and all five main battery turrets. We go one deck below and we're inside the citadel, one deck above and we're in Officer's Country. Crew quarters are located forward and aft, on this deck, Deck Two below, and Deck Four above in limited amounts around Officer's Country. Make no mistake, Texas is one thousand, three-hundred feet long and carries nearly five thousand six hundred officers and enlisted in her hull. Space is a luxury we rarely have on board."
Davis stopped in front of a set of doors, and pressed a button.
"Built into the ship from the start was a lift system designed to help expedite crew movements out of battle. This system reduces the congestion around deck access points while allowing access to four points on Decks One through Four, and two points up to Deck Seven. During combat, these lifts are all shut down and sealed off at the nearest stop in order to ensure the entire system is watertight in case of a hull breach. This system also helps serve an additional purpose decreasing resupply time in port or while underway."
A bell chimed as the door opened showing a large steel box with a sailor inside at a control panel. The two officers entered the lift and the doors clanged shut behind them.
"Deck Six, forward," Davis told the seaman before turning back to Smith, "Main Bridge is located on Deck Six, with Radar Plot on Deck Seven. Decks Two and Three are where the Main CIC, Primary and Secondary Battery Individual Fire Control, the Medical complex, and Primary Damage Control are located. Texas was designed primarily as a fleet command vessel, and a battleship secondarily. She possesses extensive command, communications, tactical, and fire control suites allowing her to act as a mobile command center and a central fire control point."
The lift stops and the door opens up onto a smaller, less crowded corridor. Smith and Davis exited the lift and the Admiral started going left, down the hall, Smith following.
"Your office, and at sea cabin is down this way, Commander," he told Smith, "Cabins and Offices are provided on this deck for Commanding Officers, Executive Officers and Myself. What would've been our in-port cabins in Officer's Country are guest quarters and an officer's lounge. The two things I forgot when designing her."
The Admiral chuckled, "Well, here we are, Commander."
The Admiral opened up a door labeled "EXECUTIVE OFFICER". Inside was a decently sized combined office and cabin, enough for a medium sized bed, an ornate wooden desk and chair, a separate bathroom, and a closet.
"It's not much," Davis said, "But it's better than comparable quarters on the Nevada or Pennsylvania. Back when I was captain of the Arizona, quarters this size were usually for the Admirals. Anyways, get settled in. Report to the bridge at 0630 tomorrow."
"But sir, shouldn't I report in to the Captain?", Smith asked, "I believe that is standard protocol when you come on board."
"I command Texas as well as the fleet. I used to have a Captain on as CO by the name of Evans. He was, sadly, killed two years ago. I requested another officer as a replacement, but due to the intensity of our Pacific and European campaigns that year, never actually received a new Captain for Texas. Get some rest, we're tracking the last remnants of the Japs' surface battlefleet. Estimates say we'll be within combat range by morning," Davis said before leaving, allowing Commander Smith to start unpacking.
Location: Middle of the East China Sea
Commander Gregory Smith shifted in his seat nervously. It wasn't every day that a Fleet Admiral personally requested your transfer, and it was even rarer to get transferred to the First Fleet, one of the Navy's finest battle squadrons.
"She should be coming in view off our port side, Sir!" the pilot yelled back.
Commander Smith turned around in his seat to look out the small window. Beyond the spinning blades of one of the helicopter's rotors, he could see the white froth of a ship's wake.
"Lone Star, this is Eagle Six coming in at heading one-six-nine, elevation two-two-zero. Requesting clearance to land," the copilot reported into his radio. There was a brief pause before a muffled reply responded.
"Clear for Priority Landing on Zone 1, Charlie," he said to the pilot, "Looks like we kept them waiting."
Outside, the dark ship started to light up as running lights and spotlights started to come on. As the aircraft came closer, the final lights turned on, illuminating the ship's name spelled out in large white letters on her stern: TEXAS. The railing on the fantail passed under the window, and Commander Smith stared down the barrels of an anti-aircraft gun mount as the helicopter slowed to a stop and then started to descend. With a squeak from the landing gear, they landed on the deck and the engines spooled down. Smith began to unbuckle from the seat, but the pilot stopped him.
"I wouldn't do that yet Sir," he said, "Just give it another minute."
With a giant clunk, the aircraft started slowly moving down into the ship. The commander winced as bright light flooded the fuselage from outside. With another giant clunk, all movement stopped besides the slow roll of the ship. All three occupants stood and walked back to the rear hatch. The copilot unlocked the hatch and pulled a lever to start the hatch slowly falling to the ground.
The two airmen turned to Smith, "Welcome board USS Texas, Commander. The best dame in the fleet."
"I should hope so," someone said.
All three turned around to see an older man in a white uniform. The pilots snapped to, saluting the officer.
"Admiral Davis, sir!", they cried in unison, as the admiral returned the salute.
"Charlie, Jethro", he said, nodding at the two in turn, "Not too much trouble getting back I assume?"
"No sir, smooth sailing all the way from the Ticonderoga," the pilot responded.
"Glad to hear it, dismissed," the Admiral stated before turning to the commander, "You're Commander Gregory Smith, Class of 1934. Served aboard the battleships Pennsylvania, Nevada, Iowa and Arizona, carriers Saratoga, Enterprise, Hornet, and Essex, and the cruiser Northampton. I've heard great things about you, Smith. Let's hope you can live up to your reputation."
The Admiral turned and walked out of the helicopter, leaving Smith to grab his bag and follow shortly behind. Outside the hanger, the corridor was strangely quiet compared to the hive of activity that was the chamber they just left. It wasn't until they turned a corner did the hall get busy. Sailors packed into the space, going about their business, all of them standing aside as the Admiral carved a wake through the crowd.
"This here is Broadway, the starboard side main passageway going from the hangars up to Turret One," Admiral Davis explained over the noise, "There's an almost identical passageway on the port side we call Bourbon Street. These two passageways are crucial to the ship's combat performance and out of battle access. Both sides' secondary battery guns are accessed from these passageways, as is the mess hall, library, workshop, quartermaster, citadel, and all five main battery turrets. We go one deck below and we're inside the citadel, one deck above and we're in Officer's Country. Crew quarters are located forward and aft, on this deck, Deck Two below, and Deck Four above in limited amounts around Officer's Country. Make no mistake, Texas is one thousand, three-hundred feet long and carries nearly five thousand six hundred officers and enlisted in her hull. Space is a luxury we rarely have on board."
Davis stopped in front of a set of doors, and pressed a button.
"Built into the ship from the start was a lift system designed to help expedite crew movements out of battle. This system reduces the congestion around deck access points while allowing access to four points on Decks One through Four, and two points up to Deck Seven. During combat, these lifts are all shut down and sealed off at the nearest stop in order to ensure the entire system is watertight in case of a hull breach. This system also helps serve an additional purpose decreasing resupply time in port or while underway."
A bell chimed as the door opened showing a large steel box with a sailor inside at a control panel. The two officers entered the lift and the doors clanged shut behind them.
"Deck Six, forward," Davis told the seaman before turning back to Smith, "Main Bridge is located on Deck Six, with Radar Plot on Deck Seven. Decks Two and Three are where the Main CIC, Primary and Secondary Battery Individual Fire Control, the Medical complex, and Primary Damage Control are located. Texas was designed primarily as a fleet command vessel, and a battleship secondarily. She possesses extensive command, communications, tactical, and fire control suites allowing her to act as a mobile command center and a central fire control point."
The lift stops and the door opens up onto a smaller, less crowded corridor. Smith and Davis exited the lift and the Admiral started going left, down the hall, Smith following.
"Your office, and at sea cabin is down this way, Commander," he told Smith, "Cabins and Offices are provided on this deck for Commanding Officers, Executive Officers and Myself. What would've been our in-port cabins in Officer's Country are guest quarters and an officer's lounge. The two things I forgot when designing her."
The Admiral chuckled, "Well, here we are, Commander."
The Admiral opened up a door labeled "EXECUTIVE OFFICER". Inside was a decently sized combined office and cabin, enough for a medium sized bed, an ornate wooden desk and chair, a separate bathroom, and a closet.
"It's not much," Davis said, "But it's better than comparable quarters on the Nevada or Pennsylvania. Back when I was captain of the Arizona, quarters this size were usually for the Admirals. Anyways, get settled in. Report to the bridge at 0630 tomorrow."
"But sir, shouldn't I report in to the Captain?", Smith asked, "I believe that is standard protocol when you come on board."
"I command Texas as well as the fleet. I used to have a Captain on as CO by the name of Evans. He was, sadly, killed two years ago. I requested another officer as a replacement, but due to the intensity of our Pacific and European campaigns that year, never actually received a new Captain for Texas. Get some rest, we're tracking the last remnants of the Japs' surface battlefleet. Estimates say we'll be within combat range by morning," Davis said before leaving, allowing Commander Smith to start unpacking.
Prologue Part 2
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
Alarms blared as Smith jumped out of bed.
"All Hands, set Condition One, Battle Stations!", the intercom yelled.
The commander looked at the clock: 23:57, only two hours since he had arrived on board. Smith grabbed his jacket and hat and ran towards the bridge. The bridge was massive and quite open, unusual for a battleship. Smith stopped in the doorway, looking past the helmsman to the pouring rain slapping the windows just as a massive wave drenched the bow of the ship in foam.
"Commander," the Admiral said as the deckplates shuddered underneath them.
"Sir?", the Commander said, "What's going on?"
"We received a distress call from the USS Medera. She and a convoy of three other ships carrying reinforcements for the Marines on Okinawa when a rogue storm appeared, capsizing their escorts. The rest of the fleet is converging on our position, ETA is forty minutes," Davis said, "We're the closest ship to the Marines, we should make visual contact in fifteen minutes. Due to the storm, we can't do much except provide escort. Especially if they capsize. We have one of the fleet's advanced recon cruisers, the Tambor, submerged up ahead, keeping us apprised of the situation. The winds are making our radar arrays nearly useless, so we're forced to rely on our own eyes and the sonar array for now."
"Sir, what are your orders?", Smith asked.
"Stay here on the bridge, you have the conn," the Admiral said as he walked over to another part of the bridge and looked at a panel with several glowing lights on an outline of the ship, "I've got to head down to DamCon. We took a few torpedoes the other day, and I'm worried about the concrete patches holding together in this weather."
The ship lurched and dropped out from under the bridge crew, forcing everyone to grab on to the nearest thing that was bolted down.
"I see, sir," Smith said as he held onto a chair, "I have the conn."
The Admiral nodded and walked out of the hatch into the corridor beyond just as the ship rose rapidly on a large wave.
"Helm, maintain course, set speed to one half," Smith ordered, "If there's not already lookouts posted, let's get some out there. I want sonar updates every minute until we find the convoy. Get all exterior lights on. I know it's a risk, but we must make ourselves as visible as possible."
Texas reached the crest of the wave and fell down the other side, burying her nose into the next as water covered her deck and spray engulfed her forward turrets and bridge.
"Conn, Radio," one of the seamen along the rear wall of the bridge reported, "A new message from the Tambor, sir. They've found the convoy, approximately 25 miles northwest of our position. The storm seems to be calming enough to where they're no longer in serious danger of capsizing, but they are still requesting our escort."
"Thank you," Smith said, "Relay that message to the Admiral if you can. Helm, adjust course to bearing 063, bring engines up to full."
"Aye, sir," the helmsman replied as he spun the wheel quickly to bring the ship about as the engines buried deep in the hull started to roar with the power of electric current. Ten minutes slowly passed with nothing but the sound of rain slapping against the glass, the squeak of the window wipers and the hull below their feet shuddering and groaning over each wave. Then, a small red light could barely be made out through the downpour.
"Conn, Radio", a sailor called, "I have the Medera on the horn, they said and I quote 'It's like Jesus himself raised Noah's Ark to come and save us.'"
Smith chuckled, "Helm, coordinate with Sonar, get us in an escorting formation. Radio, contact the Tambor, let them know we've arrived and apprise the fleet of our present coordinates. We'll slow to five knots and ride the storm out."
The hum of the engines died down as the ship glided through the convoy to the front. As Texas cruised past the last transport, more running lights appeared through the mist.
"Conn, Sonar. Got six, wait, seven new contacts just coming into range, plus the three already in visual range. Their formation is standard for Squadron Two."
"Admiral on deck!"
The Admiral walked back into the bridge, "As you were. Commander, status?"
"We've rendezvoused with the convoy, Sir," Smith stated, "We've detected possibly Squadron 2 on sonar, with three ships in visual range."
"Have we contacted them yet?", Davis asked.
"No sir," Smith replied, "I was about to send a message through the signal lamps. For all we know, this could be part of the Japanese fleet you've been hunting."
"We've, Commander," Admiral Davis corrected, not even looking up from the clipboard he was reading, "You're a part of this crew and my fleet now. Though I agree, we don't know who's out there."
Davis turned towards Smith, "Send standard challenge with the lamp, reply should be 'A bottle of rum and a good cannon' if it's Renegade Squadron. Once you confirm their identity, get them to form up around the convoy. Our own squadron along with the Defiant's shouldn't be far behind."
Outside on the walkway behind the bridge, the wind ripped and tore at Commander Smith and two signalmen.
Rain soaking through his coat, Smith yelled over the storm, "Alright, we have our orders! Challenge and response to the ship off port side, bearing 75 degrees."
On and off flashed the signal lamp, the seamen expertly moving the shutters to spell out the message. It was not long before the ship replied.
"Sir, reply to our challenge, it's Renegade!", the seaman shouted, "They're requesting orders, Sir!"
"Tell them to form up along the right flank of the convoy! After they're in position, break radio silence and report to Admiral Davis! After that, pack up and get back inside, the storm seems to be getting worse again!"
Smith headed back inside just as the battleship crashed through another wave. Knocked to the deck by the sudden jolt, Smith got to his feet just as another wave crashed into Texas' side. Quickly grabbing the railing, the Commander held on for dear life as the water lifted him off the deck before quickly receding, leaving him hanging off the walkway.
"I got you Commander!" a voice yelled as a hand grabbed hold of Smith, just as his hands slipped from around the rough, twisted metal, a spasm of pain going through his left palm. The hand was quickly joined by another and a groan as he was yanked back over the railing.
Smith straightened his uniform, smearing blood all over it, before looking up to see Admiral Davis, "Thank you sir."
"Jefferies and Berman were not so lucky I'm afraid," Davis said, looking behind the commander, "Has the message been sent, Commander?"
"Yes sir. It's USS Renegade. I had ordered them to form up on the right flank of the convoy before the wave hit. I'm not sure if they even got any part of it out," Smith said as the two officers walked back into the bridge.
"Captain Spriggs is a competent officer, Commander," Admiral Davis stated, "I won't worry about their position. Radio, break silence and contact Blackbeard. I want full status updates on the entire squadron in fifteen minutes."
"Aye sir," the radioman responded before turning back to his set. Davis nodded and walked over to the bridge windows just as the battleship dug her nose into the waves once more. As the minute ticked by, more and more running lights appeared around the convoy. Smith stood by the Admiral and watched as two sets of them came closer until the dark outlines of two cruisers were visible.
"Our escorts, cruisers Hawaii and Dallas," he said, "Good ships, great crews. Just wish we still had Tempest along with them."
"Sir?", Smith asked.
"Tempest was a super-heavy cruiser, first of a four strong class. The other three still serve in the fleet, but Tempest took a couple of Long Lances last year. Actually saved our hides," Davis chuckled wearily, "Pained me to watch her get towed back to Pearl. What was left of her crew transferred out to Halsey's fleet, split up into three destroyers and a destroyer escort. Then Samar happened."
The Admiral seemed to age significantly for a few seconds as he paused. Before he could speak again, the ship lurched forward and to the left suddenly, throwing the crew sideways, before falling like a rock. Davis staggered to his feet, blood trickling down from a cut over his right eyebrow to find a massive wave right in front of the ship. Smith got up as time seemed to slow. Almost like it was a smokescreen, the wave enveloped the bow and whatever motion the vessel possessed vanished. The deck below their feet seemed to ripple as the water engulfed the rest of the ship in front of the bridge windows. It was unsure which gave way first, the two inch thick glass or the seals keeping them in place. Time stopped again, and Smith took in one last breath before being consumed by the water.
"All Hands, set Condition One, Battle Stations!", the intercom yelled.
The commander looked at the clock: 23:57, only two hours since he had arrived on board. Smith grabbed his jacket and hat and ran towards the bridge. The bridge was massive and quite open, unusual for a battleship. Smith stopped in the doorway, looking past the helmsman to the pouring rain slapping the windows just as a massive wave drenched the bow of the ship in foam.
"Commander," the Admiral said as the deckplates shuddered underneath them.
"Sir?", the Commander said, "What's going on?"
"We received a distress call from the USS Medera. She and a convoy of three other ships carrying reinforcements for the Marines on Okinawa when a rogue storm appeared, capsizing their escorts. The rest of the fleet is converging on our position, ETA is forty minutes," Davis said, "We're the closest ship to the Marines, we should make visual contact in fifteen minutes. Due to the storm, we can't do much except provide escort. Especially if they capsize. We have one of the fleet's advanced recon cruisers, the Tambor, submerged up ahead, keeping us apprised of the situation. The winds are making our radar arrays nearly useless, so we're forced to rely on our own eyes and the sonar array for now."
"Sir, what are your orders?", Smith asked.
"Stay here on the bridge, you have the conn," the Admiral said as he walked over to another part of the bridge and looked at a panel with several glowing lights on an outline of the ship, "I've got to head down to DamCon. We took a few torpedoes the other day, and I'm worried about the concrete patches holding together in this weather."
The ship lurched and dropped out from under the bridge crew, forcing everyone to grab on to the nearest thing that was bolted down.
"I see, sir," Smith said as he held onto a chair, "I have the conn."
The Admiral nodded and walked out of the hatch into the corridor beyond just as the ship rose rapidly on a large wave.
"Helm, maintain course, set speed to one half," Smith ordered, "If there's not already lookouts posted, let's get some out there. I want sonar updates every minute until we find the convoy. Get all exterior lights on. I know it's a risk, but we must make ourselves as visible as possible."
Texas reached the crest of the wave and fell down the other side, burying her nose into the next as water covered her deck and spray engulfed her forward turrets and bridge.
"Conn, Radio," one of the seamen along the rear wall of the bridge reported, "A new message from the Tambor, sir. They've found the convoy, approximately 25 miles northwest of our position. The storm seems to be calming enough to where they're no longer in serious danger of capsizing, but they are still requesting our escort."
"Thank you," Smith said, "Relay that message to the Admiral if you can. Helm, adjust course to bearing 063, bring engines up to full."
"Aye, sir," the helmsman replied as he spun the wheel quickly to bring the ship about as the engines buried deep in the hull started to roar with the power of electric current. Ten minutes slowly passed with nothing but the sound of rain slapping against the glass, the squeak of the window wipers and the hull below their feet shuddering and groaning over each wave. Then, a small red light could barely be made out through the downpour.
"Conn, Radio", a sailor called, "I have the Medera on the horn, they said and I quote 'It's like Jesus himself raised Noah's Ark to come and save us.'"
Smith chuckled, "Helm, coordinate with Sonar, get us in an escorting formation. Radio, contact the Tambor, let them know we've arrived and apprise the fleet of our present coordinates. We'll slow to five knots and ride the storm out."
The hum of the engines died down as the ship glided through the convoy to the front. As Texas cruised past the last transport, more running lights appeared through the mist.
"Conn, Sonar. Got six, wait, seven new contacts just coming into range, plus the three already in visual range. Their formation is standard for Squadron Two."
"Admiral on deck!"
The Admiral walked back into the bridge, "As you were. Commander, status?"
"We've rendezvoused with the convoy, Sir," Smith stated, "We've detected possibly Squadron 2 on sonar, with three ships in visual range."
"Have we contacted them yet?", Davis asked.
"No sir," Smith replied, "I was about to send a message through the signal lamps. For all we know, this could be part of the Japanese fleet you've been hunting."
"We've, Commander," Admiral Davis corrected, not even looking up from the clipboard he was reading, "You're a part of this crew and my fleet now. Though I agree, we don't know who's out there."
Davis turned towards Smith, "Send standard challenge with the lamp, reply should be 'A bottle of rum and a good cannon' if it's Renegade Squadron. Once you confirm their identity, get them to form up around the convoy. Our own squadron along with the Defiant's shouldn't be far behind."
Outside on the walkway behind the bridge, the wind ripped and tore at Commander Smith and two signalmen.
Rain soaking through his coat, Smith yelled over the storm, "Alright, we have our orders! Challenge and response to the ship off port side, bearing 75 degrees."
On and off flashed the signal lamp, the seamen expertly moving the shutters to spell out the message. It was not long before the ship replied.
"Sir, reply to our challenge, it's Renegade!", the seaman shouted, "They're requesting orders, Sir!"
"Tell them to form up along the right flank of the convoy! After they're in position, break radio silence and report to Admiral Davis! After that, pack up and get back inside, the storm seems to be getting worse again!"
Smith headed back inside just as the battleship crashed through another wave. Knocked to the deck by the sudden jolt, Smith got to his feet just as another wave crashed into Texas' side. Quickly grabbing the railing, the Commander held on for dear life as the water lifted him off the deck before quickly receding, leaving him hanging off the walkway.
"I got you Commander!" a voice yelled as a hand grabbed hold of Smith, just as his hands slipped from around the rough, twisted metal, a spasm of pain going through his left palm. The hand was quickly joined by another and a groan as he was yanked back over the railing.
Smith straightened his uniform, smearing blood all over it, before looking up to see Admiral Davis, "Thank you sir."
"Jefferies and Berman were not so lucky I'm afraid," Davis said, looking behind the commander, "Has the message been sent, Commander?"
"Yes sir. It's USS Renegade. I had ordered them to form up on the right flank of the convoy before the wave hit. I'm not sure if they even got any part of it out," Smith said as the two officers walked back into the bridge.
"Captain Spriggs is a competent officer, Commander," Admiral Davis stated, "I won't worry about their position. Radio, break silence and contact Blackbeard. I want full status updates on the entire squadron in fifteen minutes."
"Aye sir," the radioman responded before turning back to his set. Davis nodded and walked over to the bridge windows just as the battleship dug her nose into the waves once more. As the minute ticked by, more and more running lights appeared around the convoy. Smith stood by the Admiral and watched as two sets of them came closer until the dark outlines of two cruisers were visible.
"Our escorts, cruisers Hawaii and Dallas," he said, "Good ships, great crews. Just wish we still had Tempest along with them."
"Sir?", Smith asked.
"Tempest was a super-heavy cruiser, first of a four strong class. The other three still serve in the fleet, but Tempest took a couple of Long Lances last year. Actually saved our hides," Davis chuckled wearily, "Pained me to watch her get towed back to Pearl. What was left of her crew transferred out to Halsey's fleet, split up into three destroyers and a destroyer escort. Then Samar happened."
The Admiral seemed to age significantly for a few seconds as he paused. Before he could speak again, the ship lurched forward and to the left suddenly, throwing the crew sideways, before falling like a rock. Davis staggered to his feet, blood trickling down from a cut over his right eyebrow to find a massive wave right in front of the ship. Smith got up as time seemed to slow. Almost like it was a smokescreen, the wave enveloped the bow and whatever motion the vessel possessed vanished. The deck below their feet seemed to ripple as the water engulfed the rest of the ship in front of the bridge windows. It was unsure which gave way first, the two inch thick glass or the seals keeping them in place. Time stopped again, and Smith took in one last breath before being consumed by the water.
Last edited:
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
Thank you! Yes, I plan on giving a detailed account of the fleet in one of the next few installments. I will also give detailed accounts of the various ships when they first appear once the story kicks off.
Arrival
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
March 18, 2018
Location: South China Sea
Yorktown class carrier, Enterprise, twitched her finger on the trigger of her Springfield. It had only been two weeks since she had arrived, and getting used to the current state of the world and her country was a bit much. She glanced at her escorts and fought the urge to turn her weapon on them. She had seen the end of the war. Japan was a broken, defeated enemy, but sailing with some of their most infamous ships was… unsettling to say the least.
"Kaga to Enterprise," a voice said in her ear causing Enterprise to jump, "Prepare for CAP handoff."
Enterprise touched the wireless comm in her ear, even for a newfangled piece of technology it was pretty useful, "Enterprise to Kaga, ready for handoff, launching now."
The wind picked up as Enterprise turned into it, soon becoming a howling rush instead of a gentle breeze. As her aircraft raised up from her hanger, she could see the deckhands struggling against the wind on her flight deck below.
She turned around and walked back into her bridge, once again with her hand to her ear, "Enterprise to Kaga. Unable to launch, wind has picked up severely over here. Might be a storm brewing."
Through the comms, Enterprise could feel the disappointment in the Japanese carrier's reply, "Understood."
After glancing at her radar screen, which only showed her escorts and the two other carriers with her, the Yorktown class headed down to the flight deck to help secure her aircraft.
As the water drained out of the bridge, Admiral Davis got back up to the thundering storm outside at full force, blowing through the shattered bridge windows. Looking down at his uniform, now soaking wet and stained with blood, he found himself surprisingly uninjured.
"Smith, status report!," He yelled over the storm.
No reply came. Davis turned to look behind him. Smith was slumped up against the helm, shards of glass embedded into his face and chest, with water-diluted blood slowly dripping onto the deck plates.
"Close the blast shields!", Davis yelled, "And get a medical team up here now!"
As the massive armor plates rolled into place over the broken windows, a sailor, one of the radarmen, rushed into the bridge.
"Sir, we picked up something," he reported.
Enterprise was right. The dark clouds on the horizon swirled menacingly as the winds blew faster across her hull. A yell went up through the deck gang, catching the carrier's attention. Quickly finishing tying down the Devastator she was working on, Enterprise stood up and turned towards the rest of the deck gang to find out what they were yelling about. From the darkness under the clouds, a bright yellow line shone out.
"What the?", Enterprise said before the drone of aircraft caught her attention. Looking up, she saw a squadron of bright white Zeros roaring towards the storm.
"Enterprise to Kaga, what the hell are you doing? Your squadron will get torn up in there!", she yelled.
There was nothing but static.
"Damn new technology, I knew it was too good," Enterprise said before taking out the earpiece. Enterprise glanced at the storm again, only to see the yellow line diminishing, like a giant eye closing, and that's when all hell broke loose.
Location: South China Sea
Yorktown class carrier, Enterprise, twitched her finger on the trigger of her Springfield. It had only been two weeks since she had arrived, and getting used to the current state of the world and her country was a bit much. She glanced at her escorts and fought the urge to turn her weapon on them. She had seen the end of the war. Japan was a broken, defeated enemy, but sailing with some of their most infamous ships was… unsettling to say the least.
"Kaga to Enterprise," a voice said in her ear causing Enterprise to jump, "Prepare for CAP handoff."
Enterprise touched the wireless comm in her ear, even for a newfangled piece of technology it was pretty useful, "Enterprise to Kaga, ready for handoff, launching now."
The wind picked up as Enterprise turned into it, soon becoming a howling rush instead of a gentle breeze. As her aircraft raised up from her hanger, she could see the deckhands struggling against the wind on her flight deck below.
She turned around and walked back into her bridge, once again with her hand to her ear, "Enterprise to Kaga. Unable to launch, wind has picked up severely over here. Might be a storm brewing."
Through the comms, Enterprise could feel the disappointment in the Japanese carrier's reply, "Understood."
After glancing at her radar screen, which only showed her escorts and the two other carriers with her, the Yorktown class headed down to the flight deck to help secure her aircraft.
As the water drained out of the bridge, Admiral Davis got back up to the thundering storm outside at full force, blowing through the shattered bridge windows. Looking down at his uniform, now soaking wet and stained with blood, he found himself surprisingly uninjured.
"Smith, status report!," He yelled over the storm.
No reply came. Davis turned to look behind him. Smith was slumped up against the helm, shards of glass embedded into his face and chest, with water-diluted blood slowly dripping onto the deck plates.
"Close the blast shields!", Davis yelled, "And get a medical team up here now!"
As the massive armor plates rolled into place over the broken windows, a sailor, one of the radarmen, rushed into the bridge.
"Sir, we picked up something," he reported.
Enterprise was right. The dark clouds on the horizon swirled menacingly as the winds blew faster across her hull. A yell went up through the deck gang, catching the carrier's attention. Quickly finishing tying down the Devastator she was working on, Enterprise stood up and turned towards the rest of the deck gang to find out what they were yelling about. From the darkness under the clouds, a bright yellow line shone out.
"What the?", Enterprise said before the drone of aircraft caught her attention. Looking up, she saw a squadron of bright white Zeros roaring towards the storm.
"Enterprise to Kaga, what the hell are you doing? Your squadron will get torn up in there!", she yelled.
There was nothing but static.
"Damn new technology, I knew it was too good," Enterprise said before taking out the earpiece. Enterprise glanced at the storm again, only to see the yellow line diminishing, like a giant eye closing, and that's when all hell broke loose.
Last edited:
Welcoming Commitee
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
Tracers streaked through the air, tearing into the Zeros, which scattered like flies. Flak burst all around them, following each fighter's path. One of the flak bursts caught up to a Zero, the tracer cutting straight through its wing, sending it burning and tumbling towards the sea in a fiery arc, before another flak burst hit it directly turning the Japanese aircraft into fragments. Enterprise sprinted for her bridge, yelling for her deck crew to scramble anything they could. As she reached the hatch into the island, the general quarters klaxon finally started to blare. Sailors and officers stood aside as the carrier barreled up stairs and through corridors to the bridge. Enterprise slowed to a walk as she passed through the hatch. Her captain popped off a salute that she returned as she approached.
"Radar, report!," She ordered.
"They just appeared ma'am," her captain said, "Estimated at least a hundred, maybe two hundred ships in some sort of arrowhead formation."
The pair walked over to the plotting table on the bridge where a sketch of the formation lay.
"It's unusual," the captain said, "A line of lighter ships as the front edge of the formation behind which are clusters, heavier ships surrounded by four or six lighter ones."
He pointed at the angled line, tracing its arrow shape before moving towards a few of the clusters.
"All surrounding these two massive radar returns here."
The captain gestured to two nearly identically sized outlines, far larger than any of the others.
"We've also picked up two other sets of returns. A small line of ships, about six or seven behind the first large return. And this cluster set behind the arrowhead formation, about forty or fifty ships. So far, nothing is anywhere close to what is in the Abyssal dossiers we received from the Kaga, but we're having a bit of an issue translating them so work on that front is going slow," he finished.
"Thanks, George," Enterprise said, taking the paper from him. Something about that large return looked familiar. Then she remembered.
Pearl.
Coral Sea.
The Solomons.
Santa Cruz.
Never actually in visual range, just a blip on her radar, but no doubt this could be her. The carrier walked out of her bridge to the walkway beyond. What seemed like Kaga's entire airwing thundered overhead, only to get torn to shreds by the flak with some debris landing on Enterprise's deck. With the beefy roar of their engines, A squadron of Wildcats finally launched off the Yorktown class, deftly avoiding the flak barrage and flying towards the storm. A thunderclap drew Enterprise's attention to the storm itself, where the dark outlines of ships were visible, backlit by lightning.
"Oh god," she said as she saw one particular outline. The large, wide hull on top of which sat a proverbial fortress out of which stretched two large funnels and one large main tower all surrounded by smaller towers, various antennas and radar arrays. Fire bloomed from beneath the clouds obscuring the ships. Seconds later, geysers erupted all around the carrier as well as a loud *clang* as a shell bounced off her flight deck, taking a Devastator with it on the way out, exploding barely fifteen yards off her stern.
"Shit!" Enterprise exclaimed. a sentiment shared by the Japanese carrier, Shokaku just two miles away.
After seeing Kaga's squadron get torn up by flak out of nowhere, she had scrambled all her fighters, fearing an Abyssal ambush. Then her new radar, fitted by the Americans when they met Enterprise, picked them up. Shokaku nearly crashed into Kaga as she lost her concentration. She knew exactly who this was. As Kaga's brash admonishment came over the wireless, she turned away from the storm. She had to get out of the range of those guns before they nearly sunk her again. Kaga wouldn't understand the necessity, they never met in the old war. She looked over to Enterprise, the large American, her former rival, was receiving the brunt of the fire as shells splashed around her.
Then, a broadcast in the clear, "USS Enterprise to USS Texas, stand down!"
"Radar, report!," She ordered.
"They just appeared ma'am," her captain said, "Estimated at least a hundred, maybe two hundred ships in some sort of arrowhead formation."
The pair walked over to the plotting table on the bridge where a sketch of the formation lay.
"It's unusual," the captain said, "A line of lighter ships as the front edge of the formation behind which are clusters, heavier ships surrounded by four or six lighter ones."
He pointed at the angled line, tracing its arrow shape before moving towards a few of the clusters.
"All surrounding these two massive radar returns here."
The captain gestured to two nearly identically sized outlines, far larger than any of the others.
"We've also picked up two other sets of returns. A small line of ships, about six or seven behind the first large return. And this cluster set behind the arrowhead formation, about forty or fifty ships. So far, nothing is anywhere close to what is in the Abyssal dossiers we received from the Kaga, but we're having a bit of an issue translating them so work on that front is going slow," he finished.
"Thanks, George," Enterprise said, taking the paper from him. Something about that large return looked familiar. Then she remembered.
Pearl.
Coral Sea.
The Solomons.
Santa Cruz.
Never actually in visual range, just a blip on her radar, but no doubt this could be her. The carrier walked out of her bridge to the walkway beyond. What seemed like Kaga's entire airwing thundered overhead, only to get torn to shreds by the flak with some debris landing on Enterprise's deck. With the beefy roar of their engines, A squadron of Wildcats finally launched off the Yorktown class, deftly avoiding the flak barrage and flying towards the storm. A thunderclap drew Enterprise's attention to the storm itself, where the dark outlines of ships were visible, backlit by lightning.
"Oh god," she said as she saw one particular outline. The large, wide hull on top of which sat a proverbial fortress out of which stretched two large funnels and one large main tower all surrounded by smaller towers, various antennas and radar arrays. Fire bloomed from beneath the clouds obscuring the ships. Seconds later, geysers erupted all around the carrier as well as a loud *clang* as a shell bounced off her flight deck, taking a Devastator with it on the way out, exploding barely fifteen yards off her stern.
"Shit!" Enterprise exclaimed. a sentiment shared by the Japanese carrier, Shokaku just two miles away.
After seeing Kaga's squadron get torn up by flak out of nowhere, she had scrambled all her fighters, fearing an Abyssal ambush. Then her new radar, fitted by the Americans when they met Enterprise, picked them up. Shokaku nearly crashed into Kaga as she lost her concentration. She knew exactly who this was. As Kaga's brash admonishment came over the wireless, she turned away from the storm. She had to get out of the range of those guns before they nearly sunk her again. Kaga wouldn't understand the necessity, they never met in the old war. She looked over to Enterprise, the large American, her former rival, was receiving the brunt of the fire as shells splashed around her.
Then, a broadcast in the clear, "USS Enterprise to USS Texas, stand down!"
Cold Reception
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
"I repeat, USS Texas stand down," Enterprise yelled into her radio set, "We're friendlies!"
The flak stopped almost immediately.
The reply was curt, "Enterprise, standby."
Two destroyers, Gearing class, poked out of the storm for a moment before ducking back in. A few moments passed before another message was transmitted.
"Texas to Enterprise, this is Admiral Davis. I want to speak to your commanding officer. There's a few questions I'd like to ask of him."
They'd seen the JMSDF ships. A pit formed in Enterprise's stomach as she picked up the receiver.
Clearing her throat, she spoke, "Sir, that's going to take a little while to explain. I am the commanding officer. One question for you before I answer any more questions, what year is it?"
There was a pause, "What kind of question is that? The year is 1945!"
Enterprise almost had a heart attack after hearing that. Not only was one of the most elite forces from the Second World War now not even 2 miles away from her, but they thought it was still going on! This would be bloody if she didn't figure out how to diffuse the situation.
"Well sir, I'm not sure how to say this," Enterprise took a breath, "But that was a little over seventy years ago, sir. This is the year two-thousand eighteen. I'm sure it's a shock sir, I can explain better if I can come aboard."
No reply came. Enterprise glanced over towards her escort, who finally managed to put herself into a proper position for anti-air defense. What a strange concept, an American carrier being escorted by the largest battleship of her former enemy. Yamato stood on one of her bridge wings looking towards the carrier, who gave a shrug in return. Then she gasped. Enterprise turned back towards the storm, which had, by no one's surprise, vanished. Pitch black smoke boiled out of dozens of funnels as the entire fleet was revealed. In the lead was the flagship, her hull draped in a dress of blue with the imposing fortress above a stark grey. Various other ships were also covered in various colors and camouflages breaking up the uniformity most of the fleet had. The two destroyers from earlier, numbers 926 and 891, sailed towards Enterprise, their guns trained on the Japanese battleship beside her. The signal lamp on the Gearing class numbered 891 flashed rapidly while the other, 926, laid a thick smokescreen between Enterprise and the rest of her task force.
USS ENTERPRISE 6, USS MCBAIN 891. REVERSE COURSE AND MAINTAIN. PREPARE FOR TRANSFER. ACKNOWLEDGE.
Enterprise responded with a flurry of flashes from her own signal lamps.
ACKNOWLEDGED MCBAIN. PERMISSION TO BRING ALONG GUEST?
As the massive carrier listed over into a hard turn, the two Gearings formed up on her flanks.
YOU MAY BRING ONE. MCBAIN 891
Enterprise breathed a sigh of relief. This would be easier to explain with another one there. A few minutes later, Yamato came on board, her hull vanishing. Thankfully, she had changed into a JMSDF uniform. How tactful.
"I am honored to accompany you, Enterprise-sama," the battleship said, surprising Enterprise with her grasp of English before turning to look at the massive fortress bristling with guns they were approaching, "You may not know this, but I too met this fleet. Although the circumstance was…"
She paused, seemingly searching for the correct word.
"Unfortunate."
Enterprise was intrigued, but that would have to wait. As Enterprise drew close alongside one of the escorting cruisers, an Alaska class, the characteristic whirring sound of a helicopter was heard overhead. It was very aggressive looking as it set down right in the middle of her forward elevator, twin main rotors spinning like crazy. The two walked towards it, holding their covers on as they drew nearer. The hatch at the rear opened up and an officer quickly stepped out, popping a salute as they walked up.
"Ladies, I'm Lieutenant Commander Connors!" he yelled over the sound of the aircraft's engines, "Here to get you safely over to the lady waiting over there!" The officer gestured off to the right. "I suggest you climb in, we don't want to keep the Admiral waiting!"
Yamato and Enterprise looked at each other before the carrier gestured for Yamato to go ahead. The two settled into their seats as the helicopter lifted off the deck.
"When we arrive on board," Connors said, "There is little time to waste. As you know, we are at war with the Japanese Empire."
Yamato and Enterprise shared a concerned look.
"This is a temporary ceasefire for the Admiral to figure out what the hell is going on here. And just why you are sailing with a Japanese squadron, all of which were supposed to have been sunk at least three months ago if not longer," he continued, then turned towards Yamato, "Frankly, I don't know who you are, or what you are doing here. I can not guarantee that the crew will react well to your presence."
The rest of the flight went by in silence until the aircraft touched down with a squeak of its landing gear. As the hatch opened up, Connors turned towards the two.
"Welcome aboard battleship Texas," he said, "The Admiral is waiting on the foredeck."
The officer stepped off the hatch onto the polished wood deck, with both Enterprise and Yamato close behind. As soon as the Japanese battleship's foot touched the wood, Enterprise could feel a shift in the machinery buried below deck, she was watching. Silence. Enterprise turned back towards Connors, the tension was palatable. All the sailors and officers previously working around the landing zone were just staring at Yamato.
"All right, nothing to see here!" Connors yelled, "Back to your duties."
A few grumbles were heard, but the crew went back to work. One of the two large hatches in the deck slid open and the large crane on deck pulled a plane out from the pit the hatch covered, swung over and set it onto one of the two aircraft catapults lining the sides of the fantail. A pair of sailors wheeled a cart carrying drop tanks past her. Yamato was amazed at everything she was seeing. There was so much to take in.
"Hey, Jap!", a voice called, "You're about to get left behind!"
This shook Yamato out of her stupor, and she hurried to catch up to Enterprise and Connors. They were standing beside one of the two massive turrets that dominated the rear of the ship, Connors was explaining something to the carrier, who looked interested. As Yamato stepped off the wood to the bare metal beneath it, she could hear what they were saying.
"...this means that she can stay in combat far longer than the standard ship of the line, and with the big 25s here," the officer gestured to the gun behind him, "Any minute Tex is in actual combat is deadly."
"So, why wasn't that incorporated into more of the fleet," Enterprise asked.
"Tonnage," he replied, "It's heavier than standard equipment, which means a larger hull to handle the weight. With the dependence on the Canal to keep the fleet connected to the shipyards on the East Coast, they couldn't afford to increase hull capacity. That's why the fleet remained here in the Pacific for most of the war so far. The majority of our heavies would crack Panama open like an eggshell."
"My apologies for keeping you waiting," Yamato started, "I w-"
"She speaks!", Connors exclaimed, grinning wide, "Nearly perfect English too. A bit unexpected, but that does make me a bit unneeded. Alright, let's get on with it."
They walked past the two turrets, their large forms casting shadows over the trio. The sheer size of these weapons made Yamato a bit uncomfortable, she'd seen this ship from miles away back then, and now, seeing the weapons up close? To think this was the ship that defeated her larger sister, and while heavily damaged at the same time. Yamato shuddered. They passed a group of anti aircraft guns, something that even caught Enterprise's eye. A large two gun mount flanked by two mounts that looked like an 8-barreled version of the famous 40mm Bofors, all of the muzzles covered in powder burns.
"We'll have to go up a deck here," Connors said, "Don't want to risk you two falling overboard as we pass the 8s. A bit cramped around those mounts."
Yamato turned away from the Bofors mount to almost run her face into the black muzzle of a naval rifle. Stepping back, she saw that it was only slightly bigger than her own 155 mm turret. Walking over to the stairs up to the deck above, Yamato couldn't help but stare into those rifles, knowing that this wasn't the only turret carrying these on board.
"This will be slightly less cramped going forward," Connors explained as they reached the next deck, "We will still have to pass a few of the 8 inch mounts on this deck too, but luckily there's only two of them."
After a few minutes of squeezing by sailors, guns, boats, and turrets, they passed under the bridge. Yamato could clearly see the scars of countless battles here. Pock marks in the steel, small burns here and there missed by the painters, weld lines on the beams and plating on the underside of the bridge and in the deck below their feet. The trio climbed down another set of stairs in the shadows of the three large forward turrets. An officer in white was standing near the forward most turret.
"Admiral Davis," Connors said as they walked up.
The Admiral turned around, his piercing blue eyes scanning the three.
"Thank you Connors," he said bluntly, "Dismissed."
The Officer saluted him, which Davis returned before turning toward Enterprise and Yamato.
With the three turrets and their gold tipped guns behind him, he presented a most imposing presence as he asked them, "Now, just who the hell are you, and what in the name of SecNav is going on?"
The flak stopped almost immediately.
The reply was curt, "Enterprise, standby."
Two destroyers, Gearing class, poked out of the storm for a moment before ducking back in. A few moments passed before another message was transmitted.
"Texas to Enterprise, this is Admiral Davis. I want to speak to your commanding officer. There's a few questions I'd like to ask of him."
They'd seen the JMSDF ships. A pit formed in Enterprise's stomach as she picked up the receiver.
Clearing her throat, she spoke, "Sir, that's going to take a little while to explain. I am the commanding officer. One question for you before I answer any more questions, what year is it?"
There was a pause, "What kind of question is that? The year is 1945!"
Enterprise almost had a heart attack after hearing that. Not only was one of the most elite forces from the Second World War now not even 2 miles away from her, but they thought it was still going on! This would be bloody if she didn't figure out how to diffuse the situation.
"Well sir, I'm not sure how to say this," Enterprise took a breath, "But that was a little over seventy years ago, sir. This is the year two-thousand eighteen. I'm sure it's a shock sir, I can explain better if I can come aboard."
No reply came. Enterprise glanced over towards her escort, who finally managed to put herself into a proper position for anti-air defense. What a strange concept, an American carrier being escorted by the largest battleship of her former enemy. Yamato stood on one of her bridge wings looking towards the carrier, who gave a shrug in return. Then she gasped. Enterprise turned back towards the storm, which had, by no one's surprise, vanished. Pitch black smoke boiled out of dozens of funnels as the entire fleet was revealed. In the lead was the flagship, her hull draped in a dress of blue with the imposing fortress above a stark grey. Various other ships were also covered in various colors and camouflages breaking up the uniformity most of the fleet had. The two destroyers from earlier, numbers 926 and 891, sailed towards Enterprise, their guns trained on the Japanese battleship beside her. The signal lamp on the Gearing class numbered 891 flashed rapidly while the other, 926, laid a thick smokescreen between Enterprise and the rest of her task force.
USS ENTERPRISE 6, USS MCBAIN 891. REVERSE COURSE AND MAINTAIN. PREPARE FOR TRANSFER. ACKNOWLEDGE.
Enterprise responded with a flurry of flashes from her own signal lamps.
ACKNOWLEDGED MCBAIN. PERMISSION TO BRING ALONG GUEST?
As the massive carrier listed over into a hard turn, the two Gearings formed up on her flanks.
YOU MAY BRING ONE. MCBAIN 891
Enterprise breathed a sigh of relief. This would be easier to explain with another one there. A few minutes later, Yamato came on board, her hull vanishing. Thankfully, she had changed into a JMSDF uniform. How tactful.
"I am honored to accompany you, Enterprise-sama," the battleship said, surprising Enterprise with her grasp of English before turning to look at the massive fortress bristling with guns they were approaching, "You may not know this, but I too met this fleet. Although the circumstance was…"
She paused, seemingly searching for the correct word.
"Unfortunate."
Enterprise was intrigued, but that would have to wait. As Enterprise drew close alongside one of the escorting cruisers, an Alaska class, the characteristic whirring sound of a helicopter was heard overhead. It was very aggressive looking as it set down right in the middle of her forward elevator, twin main rotors spinning like crazy. The two walked towards it, holding their covers on as they drew nearer. The hatch at the rear opened up and an officer quickly stepped out, popping a salute as they walked up.
"Ladies, I'm Lieutenant Commander Connors!" he yelled over the sound of the aircraft's engines, "Here to get you safely over to the lady waiting over there!" The officer gestured off to the right. "I suggest you climb in, we don't want to keep the Admiral waiting!"
Yamato and Enterprise looked at each other before the carrier gestured for Yamato to go ahead. The two settled into their seats as the helicopter lifted off the deck.
"When we arrive on board," Connors said, "There is little time to waste. As you know, we are at war with the Japanese Empire."
Yamato and Enterprise shared a concerned look.
"This is a temporary ceasefire for the Admiral to figure out what the hell is going on here. And just why you are sailing with a Japanese squadron, all of which were supposed to have been sunk at least three months ago if not longer," he continued, then turned towards Yamato, "Frankly, I don't know who you are, or what you are doing here. I can not guarantee that the crew will react well to your presence."
The rest of the flight went by in silence until the aircraft touched down with a squeak of its landing gear. As the hatch opened up, Connors turned towards the two.
"Welcome aboard battleship Texas," he said, "The Admiral is waiting on the foredeck."
The officer stepped off the hatch onto the polished wood deck, with both Enterprise and Yamato close behind. As soon as the Japanese battleship's foot touched the wood, Enterprise could feel a shift in the machinery buried below deck, she was watching. Silence. Enterprise turned back towards Connors, the tension was palatable. All the sailors and officers previously working around the landing zone were just staring at Yamato.
"All right, nothing to see here!" Connors yelled, "Back to your duties."
A few grumbles were heard, but the crew went back to work. One of the two large hatches in the deck slid open and the large crane on deck pulled a plane out from the pit the hatch covered, swung over and set it onto one of the two aircraft catapults lining the sides of the fantail. A pair of sailors wheeled a cart carrying drop tanks past her. Yamato was amazed at everything she was seeing. There was so much to take in.
"Hey, Jap!", a voice called, "You're about to get left behind!"
This shook Yamato out of her stupor, and she hurried to catch up to Enterprise and Connors. They were standing beside one of the two massive turrets that dominated the rear of the ship, Connors was explaining something to the carrier, who looked interested. As Yamato stepped off the wood to the bare metal beneath it, she could hear what they were saying.
"...this means that she can stay in combat far longer than the standard ship of the line, and with the big 25s here," the officer gestured to the gun behind him, "Any minute Tex is in actual combat is deadly."
"So, why wasn't that incorporated into more of the fleet," Enterprise asked.
"Tonnage," he replied, "It's heavier than standard equipment, which means a larger hull to handle the weight. With the dependence on the Canal to keep the fleet connected to the shipyards on the East Coast, they couldn't afford to increase hull capacity. That's why the fleet remained here in the Pacific for most of the war so far. The majority of our heavies would crack Panama open like an eggshell."
"My apologies for keeping you waiting," Yamato started, "I w-"
"She speaks!", Connors exclaimed, grinning wide, "Nearly perfect English too. A bit unexpected, but that does make me a bit unneeded. Alright, let's get on with it."
They walked past the two turrets, their large forms casting shadows over the trio. The sheer size of these weapons made Yamato a bit uncomfortable, she'd seen this ship from miles away back then, and now, seeing the weapons up close? To think this was the ship that defeated her larger sister, and while heavily damaged at the same time. Yamato shuddered. They passed a group of anti aircraft guns, something that even caught Enterprise's eye. A large two gun mount flanked by two mounts that looked like an 8-barreled version of the famous 40mm Bofors, all of the muzzles covered in powder burns.
"We'll have to go up a deck here," Connors said, "Don't want to risk you two falling overboard as we pass the 8s. A bit cramped around those mounts."
Yamato turned away from the Bofors mount to almost run her face into the black muzzle of a naval rifle. Stepping back, she saw that it was only slightly bigger than her own 155 mm turret. Walking over to the stairs up to the deck above, Yamato couldn't help but stare into those rifles, knowing that this wasn't the only turret carrying these on board.
"This will be slightly less cramped going forward," Connors explained as they reached the next deck, "We will still have to pass a few of the 8 inch mounts on this deck too, but luckily there's only two of them."
After a few minutes of squeezing by sailors, guns, boats, and turrets, they passed under the bridge. Yamato could clearly see the scars of countless battles here. Pock marks in the steel, small burns here and there missed by the painters, weld lines on the beams and plating on the underside of the bridge and in the deck below their feet. The trio climbed down another set of stairs in the shadows of the three large forward turrets. An officer in white was standing near the forward most turret.
"Admiral Davis," Connors said as they walked up.
The Admiral turned around, his piercing blue eyes scanning the three.
"Thank you Connors," he said bluntly, "Dismissed."
The Officer saluted him, which Davis returned before turning toward Enterprise and Yamato.
With the three turrets and their gold tipped guns behind him, he presented a most imposing presence as he asked them, "Now, just who the hell are you, and what in the name of SecNav is going on?"
War Dossier: USS Texas
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
USS Texas, flagship of the First Fleet, Hull Designation BBC-1(Battleship, Command)
Commanding Officer: Fleet Admiral Davis, USNA Class of 1912 (Formerly Captain Johnathan Evans, USNA Class of 1926, Deceased)
Executive Officer: Commander Gregory Smith, USNA Class of 1934 (Deceased)
Second Officer: Lt. Commander Connors, USNA Class of 1939(Currently Serving as Acting Executive Officer)
Dimensions:
Length: 1300 feet (396 meters) waterline, 1358 feet (413 meters) overall
Width: 200 feet (60 meters)
Draft: 48 feet 7 inches (14.8 meters) normal, 51 feet 4 inches (15.6 meters) maximum
Displacement: 232,863 tons normal, 244,646 tons maximum
Armament:
Main Battery: 15 25"/ 55 Mk5 Rifles in 5 3-gun Mk4 turret mounts, mounted A-B-X+Y-Z, B X and Y turrets superfiring
Secondary Battery: 30 8"/55 Mk16(Prototype) in 10 3-gun turrets
Anti- Aircraft Battery: Multiple 40mm octuple Bofors Mk7 mounts, Many 3"/ 50 Mk 33 mounts, 20mm/70 Mk4 twin mounts
Armor:
Belt Armor: 26"-12"
Torpedo Belt: 9" main belt behind multiple 2" intermediate bulkheads
Deck: 8" main under 2" decapping deck, 1.5" on extremities
Speed: 33 knots, 8 shafts
Range: 15500 nautical miles at 12 knots
Crew: 5, 593(250 Commissioned Officers, 5343 Enlisted Officers and Crew)
Description:
First of seven ship strong class meant to form the backbone of a new US Navy to meet the increasingly militant build up by the Japanese after the failure of the Washington Naval Treaty in 1924. Part of Admiral Davis' massive rearmament project, Big Stick(so named after the famous Teddy Roosevelt saying "Speak softly and carry a big stick"), Texas was laid down in 1935 as a replacement for the aging New York class superdreadnought of the same name(This ship would be renamed USS Alamo and serve as a training ship until 1942 when she was recalled for active service, renamed back to USS Texas shortly after and has lived as a museum from 1946 till the modern day). Texas was designed to be a front line command ship first and foremost, giving her extensive command facilities buried into her hull, several of which required great amount of room for little weight gained. Her weaponry, and the extents of such is a effect of this design principle. Completed in 1940, Texas was formally commissioned on a chilly day in January, 1941. Served with distinction during the Pacific War, with a short romp in the Northern Atlantic in 1942, although was unable to see the war through to the end as she and her fleet vanished mere weeks before the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as well as the subsequent surrender of the Imperial Japanese Government. Her loss as well as the loss of the rest of the 177 ships in the First Fleet was mourned by the nation and its allies, and the fleet quickly fell into obscurity as the smaller Iowa class(the largest surviving US battleships at the end of the war) took center stage. It is said that no picture was ever taken of this American titan, or at least no picture that Allied Command knew about. This has lead to many rumors and myths appearing around the ship as no living individual knows what the ship actually looked like. With the reappearance of the ship, her sister(to be chronicled another time), and the rest of the First Fleet, all these rumors and myths are seen to be disproven after her arrival in Japan. Because of the recent events, Congress has been set into a frenzy as the deadlocked legislature struggles to figure out exactly what this means for the country going forward.
Commanding Officer: Fleet Admiral Davis, USNA Class of 1912 (Formerly Captain Johnathan Evans, USNA Class of 1926, Deceased)
Executive Officer: Commander Gregory Smith, USNA Class of 1934 (Deceased)
Second Officer: Lt. Commander Connors, USNA Class of 1939(Currently Serving as Acting Executive Officer)
Dimensions:
Length: 1300 feet (396 meters) waterline, 1358 feet (413 meters) overall
Width: 200 feet (60 meters)
Draft: 48 feet 7 inches (14.8 meters) normal, 51 feet 4 inches (15.6 meters) maximum
Displacement: 232,863 tons normal, 244,646 tons maximum
Armament:
Main Battery: 15 25"/ 55 Mk5 Rifles in 5 3-gun Mk4 turret mounts, mounted A-B-X+Y-Z, B X and Y turrets superfiring
Secondary Battery: 30 8"/55 Mk16(Prototype) in 10 3-gun turrets
Anti- Aircraft Battery: Multiple 40mm octuple Bofors Mk7 mounts, Many 3"/ 50 Mk 33 mounts, 20mm/70 Mk4 twin mounts
Armor:
Belt Armor: 26"-12"
Torpedo Belt: 9" main belt behind multiple 2" intermediate bulkheads
Deck: 8" main under 2" decapping deck, 1.5" on extremities
Speed: 33 knots, 8 shafts
Range: 15500 nautical miles at 12 knots
Crew: 5, 593(250 Commissioned Officers, 5343 Enlisted Officers and Crew)
Description:
First of seven ship strong class meant to form the backbone of a new US Navy to meet the increasingly militant build up by the Japanese after the failure of the Washington Naval Treaty in 1924. Part of Admiral Davis' massive rearmament project, Big Stick(so named after the famous Teddy Roosevelt saying "Speak softly and carry a big stick"), Texas was laid down in 1935 as a replacement for the aging New York class superdreadnought of the same name(This ship would be renamed USS Alamo and serve as a training ship until 1942 when she was recalled for active service, renamed back to USS Texas shortly after and has lived as a museum from 1946 till the modern day). Texas was designed to be a front line command ship first and foremost, giving her extensive command facilities buried into her hull, several of which required great amount of room for little weight gained. Her weaponry, and the extents of such is a effect of this design principle. Completed in 1940, Texas was formally commissioned on a chilly day in January, 1941. Served with distinction during the Pacific War, with a short romp in the Northern Atlantic in 1942, although was unable to see the war through to the end as she and her fleet vanished mere weeks before the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as well as the subsequent surrender of the Imperial Japanese Government. Her loss as well as the loss of the rest of the 177 ships in the First Fleet was mourned by the nation and its allies, and the fleet quickly fell into obscurity as the smaller Iowa class(the largest surviving US battleships at the end of the war) took center stage. It is said that no picture was ever taken of this American titan, or at least no picture that Allied Command knew about. This has lead to many rumors and myths appearing around the ship as no living individual knows what the ship actually looked like. With the reappearance of the ship, her sister(to be chronicled another time), and the rest of the First Fleet, all these rumors and myths are seen to be disproven after her arrival in Japan. Because of the recent events, Congress has been set into a frenzy as the deadlocked legislature struggles to figure out exactly what this means for the country going forward.
I find the fact that there were no pictures of the Texas unlikely. There would have been many pictures of the ship as it was being built based on its size. Also, there would have been some sort of silhouette identification for the ship. Also, 25" for a main battery is a bit overkill. A more realistic number would be 18". Like the story though. Good work so far!
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
Regarding the photographs, I agree that there would have been pictures taken of Tex. As I'm meaning that the article was written in the modern day(in universe), it was more of legend instead of hard facts that no pictures were taken. The story will definitely be looking more into this later on as we find out exactly what happened after the Fleet disappeared from 1945. The overkill bore size of the main battery was specifically chosen in universe because it was just that, overkill. Tex was meant to counter any surface ship the Japanese could ever build, and she does suffer a bit from this decision. Mostly regarding maintenance. Thank you for the great feedback and I'm glad you are enjoyingg the story so far.
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Trophy Shelf
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
"Now, just who the hell are you, and what in the name of SecNav is going on?"
"Sir, my name is USS Enterprise," Enterprise started, "I-"
Yamato spoke up, stepping in front of the carrier, "Sir, it is an honor to meet you again. I'm sure you don't recognize me, so allow me to introduce myself. My name is Yamato, you came on board three years ago during the revolt."
Surprise quickly flashed across the Admiral's face before it hardened back up.
"How do you know about that operation?", he asked, eyes narrowing, "No official report was made."
"I was there, Admiral," Yamato replied, "Even when my Admiral gave his heartfelt apology for Nagumo's destruction of the Arizona. He and I both know how much you loved your first command. It is shameful to see her as she is today, a memorial to the destruction my country wrought that day."
Davis' demeanor changed slightly. Yamato had struck a nerve.
"You have no idea what you're getting into there," he growled.
As if to accent that statement, the deck below rumbled menacingly.
The gun barrels behind the Admiral seemed to gleam with malice as he continued, "Take a look at the deck."
Both Enterprise and Yamato looked down at their feet and to the grey, riveted metal beneath.
"There used to be teak covering these plates."
Yamato turned around to see an arc stretching across the deck, defining where the wood ended and the metal began.
"What wonders these guns can do."
Upon closer inspection, Yamato realized that the boundary wasn't as clearly cut as she originally thought, rather it was ragged as each plank was beaten, cracked and splintered by war. The message was clear.
"My apologies," she said, "I didn't know it was a sensitive topic. I will refrain from mentioning it again."
"Admiral," Enterprise interjected, trying to salvage the conversation, "If you would, allow me to fill you in on the current situation."
As Enterprise talked to Admiral Davis, Yamato noticed something on the side of the second main battery turret. Walking past the first turret, she could make out an array of several shiny objects covered in shadow mounted on the forward angled armor plate forward of one of the sighting telescopes. She climbed the dented, warped staircase to the next deck up and approached the turret. Yamato could see them better now, and she stopped in her tracks. Rows upon rows of Imperial Chrysanthemums, of all sizes, displayed as a symbol of pride. Stepping closer, she could see names painted on underneath each one. Harekaze, Haragumo, Shikashima, Zao, Kii, Tosa. There were at least two, no, three dozen of them, with one in particular dominating the rest, the one in the center, and the biggest of all. It looked like it had been ripped straight off the ship itself, and then Yamato read the name.
Yokozuna.
Yamato recoiled in horror at that name, remembering the events and the bloodshed that ship had wrought. Even though she had faced her own sister in battle, Yamato was in utter disgust to see a part of her on board. Just then, she felt like someone was watching her. She turned around to find nothing but a deserted deck, not a single soul in sight besides the Admiral and Enterprise.
"I see you discovered my trophies," a voice whispered out of the ether, "They all spoke highly of you, Hotel. She still does."
"USS Texas," Yamato replied, firmly, "This is unexpected."
"Sir, my name is USS Enterprise," Enterprise started, "I-"
Yamato spoke up, stepping in front of the carrier, "Sir, it is an honor to meet you again. I'm sure you don't recognize me, so allow me to introduce myself. My name is Yamato, you came on board three years ago during the revolt."
Surprise quickly flashed across the Admiral's face before it hardened back up.
"How do you know about that operation?", he asked, eyes narrowing, "No official report was made."
"I was there, Admiral," Yamato replied, "Even when my Admiral gave his heartfelt apology for Nagumo's destruction of the Arizona. He and I both know how much you loved your first command. It is shameful to see her as she is today, a memorial to the destruction my country wrought that day."
Davis' demeanor changed slightly. Yamato had struck a nerve.
"You have no idea what you're getting into there," he growled.
As if to accent that statement, the deck below rumbled menacingly.
The gun barrels behind the Admiral seemed to gleam with malice as he continued, "Take a look at the deck."
Both Enterprise and Yamato looked down at their feet and to the grey, riveted metal beneath.
"There used to be teak covering these plates."
Yamato turned around to see an arc stretching across the deck, defining where the wood ended and the metal began.
"What wonders these guns can do."
Upon closer inspection, Yamato realized that the boundary wasn't as clearly cut as she originally thought, rather it was ragged as each plank was beaten, cracked and splintered by war. The message was clear.
"My apologies," she said, "I didn't know it was a sensitive topic. I will refrain from mentioning it again."
"Admiral," Enterprise interjected, trying to salvage the conversation, "If you would, allow me to fill you in on the current situation."
As Enterprise talked to Admiral Davis, Yamato noticed something on the side of the second main battery turret. Walking past the first turret, she could make out an array of several shiny objects covered in shadow mounted on the forward angled armor plate forward of one of the sighting telescopes. She climbed the dented, warped staircase to the next deck up and approached the turret. Yamato could see them better now, and she stopped in her tracks. Rows upon rows of Imperial Chrysanthemums, of all sizes, displayed as a symbol of pride. Stepping closer, she could see names painted on underneath each one. Harekaze, Haragumo, Shikashima, Zao, Kii, Tosa. There were at least two, no, three dozen of them, with one in particular dominating the rest, the one in the center, and the biggest of all. It looked like it had been ripped straight off the ship itself, and then Yamato read the name.
Yokozuna.
Yamato recoiled in horror at that name, remembering the events and the bloodshed that ship had wrought. Even though she had faced her own sister in battle, Yamato was in utter disgust to see a part of her on board. Just then, she felt like someone was watching her. She turned around to find nothing but a deserted deck, not a single soul in sight besides the Admiral and Enterprise.
"I see you discovered my trophies," a voice whispered out of the ether, "They all spoke highly of you, Hotel. She still does."
"USS Texas," Yamato replied, firmly, "This is unexpected."
Did the Japanese Empire had a civil war? Yamato mentioned a revolt and having to fight her sister.
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
Technically yes, but no. I'd say more like a failed coup given the rest of the context there. I'll go into more detail when the Yokozuna takes center stage.
Invitation
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
"About as unexpected as seeing you again" ,the voice said, "You should be dead, by my rifles if need be."
"Seems to me like you shouldn't be here either," she replied, "The United States Navy declared you and the rest of your fleet lost decades ago, yet here you are."
There was a pause.
"Yamato, you have no idea how much I'm restraining myself from knocking you on your ass right now," the voice growled, "But... you've proven your point."
She followed the sound of boots walking across the deck over to the other side of the turret.
"We're both here for a reason, whatever that may be. This war between our two countries, it pales in the face of what I'm hearing from Enterprise. Good thing I brought everyone. They're itching for a fight," the voice said.
Yamato could see what she meant. Destroyers, cruisers and battleships lay spread out in front of her in a grand show of might. The three closest battleships stood out in contrast to the more uniform shapes of the rest.
"Ohio, Kentucky, Vermont. Hell, even Defiant and Reliant. They're good ships, but they pale in comparison to these three. You already know Yokozuna."
The hulking dark grey shape of the fifth Yamato class battleship towered over the escorting American cruisers like a bizarre dream. Adding to that effect was the American anti-aircraft and secondary guns littering the deck and superstructure as well as an American flag fluttering high on her mast.
"When the Admiral heard it was your sister, we thought she'd be like you. We weren't expecting that fourth turret," the voice sighed, "But that didn't stop us as you well know. Actually, it was easier than stealing Avenger from Wilhelmshaven, thanks to your help of course."
Yamato looked over to what could only be the ship in question. Once again festooned with American secondary gun turrets and anti-aircraft mounts, the mean low lines of a German H-class battleship looked right at home between a pair of Fletcher class destroyers.
"It was a miracle that we managed to slip the prize crew on board before they finished mounting her weaponry. Had the Germans deployed early with that type of firepower at their disposal, it would've been a disaster. Thank God we had Renegade ready to put her down."
The third ship was characteristic of the early interwar American Standard designs. A large flat decked hull with an aggressively pointed prow on top of which towered three massive funnels and a tall forward tower. If that wasn't imposing enough, the funnels and tower were flanked by four massive turrets with six guns each, mounted in pairs, like a large triple turret. A stark white sheen coated everything besides the gun barrels and funnel tops which were a dark black.
"She saved our asses too many times to count after her predecessor went down. Seemed fitting that the Admiral would give her name to her replacement in memoriam of the actions of the first. Damn lucky though. Had the original gone up sooner, we may have never evacuated the crew in time."
"Why are you telling me all this?", Yamato asked, "This is surprising for a ship that was just at war with my country."
"Two reasons," the voice said, "First, I trust you. We fought side by side three years ago, shedding blood together against that rogue warlord. You have more than earned my respect for that and what you went through on that idiotic suicide mission your commanders put you on. Second, I don't think even Enterprise could truly understand what I have been through, but you. You can understand at least the family side of things. Now, let's get on with operations. I have a feeling our arrival has not gone unnoticed."
Before Yamato could reply, the thunder of plane engines was heard overhead. Wildcats, Corsairs, Hellcats, fighters, bombers, all in the hundreds. Among the sea of blue were a few B-17s and three larger six engined bombers, all glittering in polished aluminum.
"Impressive aren't they?", someone said behind Yamato.
She turned around to see Enterprise and the Admiral standing there.
"That would be an understatement, sir", she replied.
"Gather your taskforce," the Admiral said, "As insane as this has all been, I can say y'all are probably a bit hungry from, what was it?"
Davis looked at Enterprise, "Three weeks of operations? Time you all had a proper meal. Like my mother used to say, 'nothin' beats good ol' fashioned Texas-size meals to get a conversation flowing.' Dinner's in an hour, my private mess. Deck Six, Frame 119 aft."
"Seems to me like you shouldn't be here either," she replied, "The United States Navy declared you and the rest of your fleet lost decades ago, yet here you are."
There was a pause.
"Yamato, you have no idea how much I'm restraining myself from knocking you on your ass right now," the voice growled, "But... you've proven your point."
She followed the sound of boots walking across the deck over to the other side of the turret.
"We're both here for a reason, whatever that may be. This war between our two countries, it pales in the face of what I'm hearing from Enterprise. Good thing I brought everyone. They're itching for a fight," the voice said.
Yamato could see what she meant. Destroyers, cruisers and battleships lay spread out in front of her in a grand show of might. The three closest battleships stood out in contrast to the more uniform shapes of the rest.
"Ohio, Kentucky, Vermont. Hell, even Defiant and Reliant. They're good ships, but they pale in comparison to these three. You already know Yokozuna."
The hulking dark grey shape of the fifth Yamato class battleship towered over the escorting American cruisers like a bizarre dream. Adding to that effect was the American anti-aircraft and secondary guns littering the deck and superstructure as well as an American flag fluttering high on her mast.
"When the Admiral heard it was your sister, we thought she'd be like you. We weren't expecting that fourth turret," the voice sighed, "But that didn't stop us as you well know. Actually, it was easier than stealing Avenger from Wilhelmshaven, thanks to your help of course."
Yamato looked over to what could only be the ship in question. Once again festooned with American secondary gun turrets and anti-aircraft mounts, the mean low lines of a German H-class battleship looked right at home between a pair of Fletcher class destroyers.
"It was a miracle that we managed to slip the prize crew on board before they finished mounting her weaponry. Had the Germans deployed early with that type of firepower at their disposal, it would've been a disaster. Thank God we had Renegade ready to put her down."
The third ship was characteristic of the early interwar American Standard designs. A large flat decked hull with an aggressively pointed prow on top of which towered three massive funnels and a tall forward tower. If that wasn't imposing enough, the funnels and tower were flanked by four massive turrets with six guns each, mounted in pairs, like a large triple turret. A stark white sheen coated everything besides the gun barrels and funnel tops which were a dark black.
"She saved our asses too many times to count after her predecessor went down. Seemed fitting that the Admiral would give her name to her replacement in memoriam of the actions of the first. Damn lucky though. Had the original gone up sooner, we may have never evacuated the crew in time."
"Why are you telling me all this?", Yamato asked, "This is surprising for a ship that was just at war with my country."
"Two reasons," the voice said, "First, I trust you. We fought side by side three years ago, shedding blood together against that rogue warlord. You have more than earned my respect for that and what you went through on that idiotic suicide mission your commanders put you on. Second, I don't think even Enterprise could truly understand what I have been through, but you. You can understand at least the family side of things. Now, let's get on with operations. I have a feeling our arrival has not gone unnoticed."
Before Yamato could reply, the thunder of plane engines was heard overhead. Wildcats, Corsairs, Hellcats, fighters, bombers, all in the hundreds. Among the sea of blue were a few B-17s and three larger six engined bombers, all glittering in polished aluminum.
"Impressive aren't they?", someone said behind Yamato.
She turned around to see Enterprise and the Admiral standing there.
"That would be an understatement, sir", she replied.
"Gather your taskforce," the Admiral said, "As insane as this has all been, I can say y'all are probably a bit hungry from, what was it?"
Davis looked at Enterprise, "Three weeks of operations? Time you all had a proper meal. Like my mother used to say, 'nothin' beats good ol' fashioned Texas-size meals to get a conversation flowing.' Dinner's in an hour, my private mess. Deck Six, Frame 119 aft."
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Wary Welcome
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
Yamato stepped off the helicopter onto Shokaku's deck. Enterprise had elected to stay behind with the American admiral, however it was felt that the battleship's presence was unnecessary. As soon as she was clear of the massive rotors, the aircraft roared off and quickly left gun range to the fleet which stood off her task force by at least ten miles. Ignoring the dozens of messages entering her radio room, Yamato walked over to where the demure silver-haired woman who's deck she was on stood.
"It's her, isn't it," she said, "How bad is it?"
Yamato took a breath, "Yes, it's her. It's a bit tense, but she acknowledges that her war is over, or at least doesn't matter right now. I am unsure about the rest of her fleet. From the general atmosphere over there, it seems like they'd rather fight than work with us. We've also received an invitation for dinner from her Admiral. I'm making the call here, only those of us who actually encountered her will be attending."
"That means Kaga will be covering CAP with Kirishima and DesDiv6 as escorts at the minimum," Shokaku responded, "She won't be happy about that."
"Texas still might harbor ill-feelings against us, and most definitely does against her," Yamato continued "It will be much easier without one of the two carriers from Pearl she didn't encounter during the war there to incite her."
"But she's our flagship, she'll want to be there," Shokaku countered.
"I know, which is why you need to explain it to her," the battleship explained, "Kaga tends to listen to you more than anyone else besides Akagi when in command positions."
Just as she was about to reply, the crack of a gunshot rang out across the water. Both ships quickly turned around to see a white puff of smoke trailing past the side of the big battleship dominating the horizon. A second erupted from one of the large turrets lining her side as something was dropped from the deck, its white color a stark contrast to the dark blue steel. A third puff came into existence as the sound from the second one reached the pair.
"I understand why I was hurried off by the Americans now," Yamato said.
Shokaku looked up at her quizzically as another white object fell into the sea.
"They're paying respects to their dead, who I assume were killed recently," the battleship explained as a third, and seemingly final object fell, "They're far from home, with no way to return. Even Enterprise lost the steel hulls that were escorting her across to us along the way. Their bodies would be a burden."
Off Shokaku's side, the towering pagoda that was Kongou swiftly fell out of line and ran parallel to the American fleet, giving them a salute from her own guns. Across the formation, Yamato could see Kirishima following suit.
"Shokaku, get in contact with Kaga," she ordered, "We'll be detaching along with Kongou, Maya, and Harekaze. The rest will stay in formation with her paralleling the Americans with at least 20 kilometers between the two fleets. Less chance we have of provoking the Ghost Fleet the better."
"What if she questions the order?", the carrier asked, "You know how those First Carrier Division girls are."
"Counter it with the fact that I'm exercising my right as Yamato, Japan personified," the big warship stated.
"Understood Yamato-san," Shokaku said.
Kaga, like Shokaku predicted, was less than pleased. Arguing back and forth over the wireless and eventually in person as the detachment gathered on her flight deck for transport, Kaga was relentless, until Yamato told her exactly who she was going to board if she came. Minutes later, a big American bomber came to a screeching halt on Kaga's deck, the two engines roaring impatiently as they boarded. The aircraft rolled to the rear of Kaga's runway as the group was getting settled in their seats. Soon enough they were airborne.
"Sorry Ma'am!", one of the crew shouted over the engines, "We're having to take a detour! The flag's aircraft are only meant for moving one or two people. Thankfully, Liberty's got a few larger capacity birds!"
"Liberty?", Kongou asked, "That's an interesting name."
"We'll see soon enough," Yamato replied, leaning forward, "Please remember to speak in their tongue while aboard."
Yamato turned her attention to the officer, speaking in English, " Thank you for letting us know, Captain. How will this affect our arrival time?"
The officer smiled, "Not at all Ma'am! We were to pick up someone from Liberty anyways!"
He yelled over his shoulder, "Hey Charlie, Jethro, why don't you two give them the orbit before landing! Liberty's always a sight to see lit up at night!"
Yamato could barely hear the pilot's affirmative before settling back into her seat. A few minutes passed before light flooded the windows. Shokaku looked out and gasped. The rest followed suit. Yamato leaned back to look out her window, and was terrified. Down on the ocean below, spread out like an aircraft squadron were six carriers. She recognized five of them immediately. Two Essex, two Serkets, and a Midway. The sixth was why she feared American industry. In the center, a behemoth lumbered. A dark grey hull, long, low and fat, sliced through the waves angrily as the brightly lit flight deck and hangers stacked on top swarmed with ants, bees, and wasps, ready for war. It was around this monster the plane circled.
"Is that..?", Maya asked.
"Yes," Yamato said, "A second Texas."
The plane banked sharply and aligned itself to land. Seconds later, Yamato and her party were treated to a sharp jolt and a quick slow down as the plane landed. The engines died down to a rumble as the aircraft rolled off the landing zone and onto an elevator which took them down into the brightly lit hangar. After the plane had stopped moving, the party was allowed to disembark. Shokaku was amazed .The hangar was cavernous, easily the same height as both of Kaga's combined. Fighters, bombers, and spare parts hung from the ceiling or rested in racks on both sides of the ship. Every so often, she would see one of the racks quickly lower to the deck to load or unload a plane then quickly raise back up. Trucks, forklifts and tractors moved quickly around the space, weaving through and around squadrons and support structures.
"Wait here," the officer said.
Below her feet, the deck gave a sharp jolt as a loud bang echoed into the cavern from the flight deck above. Not even a minute later, calls of "STAND CLEAR'' echoed through the hanger as a large section of the ceiling started to lower. The thunder of engines drowned out the hangar noise as the elevator came down. A blast of wind and sea spray hit them as a tall blue fin came into view, followed by a large silver fuselage. The elevator set down with a clunk as the plane's six engines stopped, leaving behind a massive silence only punctuated by the dripping of water off its riveted body. A small truck quickly arrived and started to push the airplane back towards the group as the large wingspan slowly started to fold in on itself, the blue painted raised wingtips nearly touching the inboardmost engine housing. Someone tapped Shokaku on her shoulder.
"Is it just me, or did those engines sound just like those fighter craft from that movie we watched before the mission?", Kongou asked.
"Which ones?", Maya asked, "The Rebel ones or the Empire's?"
"I don't know!" ,Kongou snapped, "I was too busy thinking about Teitoku! It was the ones that chased the freighter in that one scene with the asteroid field and those destroyers."
"Oh, the TIE Fighters?" ,Shokaku replied, "Yeah, I had the same feeling."
The group stepped aside as the plane rolled past, its many tires squeaking on the metal. Painted on the side of the nose was a massive eagle, wings and talons stretched wide in front of a burnt, torn and holed American flag surrounded by the words "Liberty and Justice". As the plane came to a stop, three large sets of doors opened up on its belly and men swarmed in with carts and tools. A hatch near the underslung nose turret popped open and the plane's crew dropped out.
The officer from before walked over to the crew and started talking to one of the several green clad figures. After a few moments, he and the crew member started to walk over.
The crew member turned around towards the plane for a second, "Adams, make sure they check that pump again. Elevators still feel sluggish, might be more shrapnel in the lines."
"Aye, Ma'am!", one of the crew members responded.
As the pair grew closer to Shokaku and the others, the crew member took off the brown leather cap they wore, releasing long dark brown hair to drape around her shoulders.
"Ladies, this is Sticks. She'll be your pilot over to the flagship."
"So you're the ones that caused so much chatter on the radio? Can't say I'm impressed," she said, looking them over, "But if the Admiral sees fit to allow you on board his precious battleship, I see no point in arguing. Let's get moving, our bird should be ready by now."
The group wound its way through the hangar, dodging aircraft and personnel alike. On another elevator sat a dark blue Catalina, the two pilots from earlier leaning against it, having a smoke.
"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?", Sticks yelled, startling the two.
"Oh, uh, Major," one of them started, "We were just , uh…"
"Don't you dare start that horseshit with me, Lieutenant! Smoking in a damned hanger? Not even twenty feet away from a fucking fuel hose?" she continued, gesturing at the hose in question, still slightly glistening with wet fuel, "Are you two out of your goddamned minds?"
The group all looked at each other as the Major tore into the two pilots. The berating continued for a few minutes as the two pilots babbled, trying to come up with an excuse. Eventually, the two managed to get away from the Major.
"Fucking flagship idiots," she said as the two pilots vanished into the rest of the hanger and a group of MPs showed up, having heard the tirade. After conversing with the major, they set off in pursuit of the pair while the Major turned back to the group.
"Sorry," she said halfheartedly, "Damned battleship jockeys don't know how to act in a real hangar. Come on now, we're running late as it is!"
Everyone climbed into the flying boat and got themselves seated in the cramped fuselage.
"I thought these things fit ten!" Maya shouted as the engines started to build to a rumble.
"They can," Sticks responded over the intercom with a laugh, "Never said that they would be comfortable, or in the same part of the plane!"
The Catalina jolted under their seats and the light coming through the glass nose turned to the black of night.
"Everyone buckled back there?" ,the Major asked, "In just a few moments, we'll be turned around and put in position for launch. Hold on."
The intercom clicked off and everyone looked at each other worriedly until Shokaku broke the silence.
"Launched?" ,she asked.
The plane lurched to the side.
"Surely, they can't be serious," Kongou scoffed, "This thing wouldn't…"
Kongou was interrupted by a loud clunk coming from the front of the plane, followed by the engines spinning up to a deafening roar.
"Sticks to Control, engines spun up and controls set for takeoff. Set Launch One for takeoff weight of Three Two Five Hundred. Clear for launch."
A few moments later, the Catalina jerked into motion. The rubber tires sung across the wood planking, gathering in intensity and pitch as the world outside the windows began to blur. Suddenly, just as the tire song was reaching its peak, the plane dropped out from under the group for a moment. Nothing but the roar of the engines filled the cabin.
"Sticks to Liberty," the voice echoed from the cockpit, "Clear of the pattern, proceeding to Lone Star. Engine Two is running a bit hot, advise someone write that down for a look when we get home."
A few minutes later, the Catalina touched down in the water with all the subtlety of a whale.
"Is it over?" Maya asked, her knuckles white as they gripped her seat.
The Major appeared from the cockpit, her movements seemingly barely affected by the bobbing of the aircraft over the waves.
"I would suggest y'all stay seated," she said as she popped open the left side hatch, "Things might get a little wet."
"Don't worry," she smirked, "This happens all the time. It's part of the fun!"
The Major climbed out of the hatch, laughing. Seconds later, the group could hear boot steps on the top of the fuselage. They all looked at each other, wondering what was going on. The footsteps finally stopped over Kongou's head and silence returned for a moment. A loud bang jolted the fast battleship out of her seat, which would have been amusing to the others if the same hadn't nearly happened to them. The footsteps started towards the nose of the craft for a few seconds before the Catalina stopped bobbing altogether. Waves tickled the bottom of the open hatch and a small pool of water had started to form as the Major climbed back inside, closing the hatch's glass canopy before sitting down in one of the open chairs.
"Well, that's over with," she said, annoyed, "Crane operators can't hook a Cat even if their lives depended on it."
The plane started to sway a little bit as it started to move sideways. Seconds later, the plane hit something with a lurch and the hatch once again swung open. A sailor popped his head in, hand firmly placed on top of his white fabric cap, and grinned, "Ladies, Major, welcome aboard."
"It's her, isn't it," she said, "How bad is it?"
Yamato took a breath, "Yes, it's her. It's a bit tense, but she acknowledges that her war is over, or at least doesn't matter right now. I am unsure about the rest of her fleet. From the general atmosphere over there, it seems like they'd rather fight than work with us. We've also received an invitation for dinner from her Admiral. I'm making the call here, only those of us who actually encountered her will be attending."
"That means Kaga will be covering CAP with Kirishima and DesDiv6 as escorts at the minimum," Shokaku responded, "She won't be happy about that."
"Texas still might harbor ill-feelings against us, and most definitely does against her," Yamato continued "It will be much easier without one of the two carriers from Pearl she didn't encounter during the war there to incite her."
"But she's our flagship, she'll want to be there," Shokaku countered.
"I know, which is why you need to explain it to her," the battleship explained, "Kaga tends to listen to you more than anyone else besides Akagi when in command positions."
Just as she was about to reply, the crack of a gunshot rang out across the water. Both ships quickly turned around to see a white puff of smoke trailing past the side of the big battleship dominating the horizon. A second erupted from one of the large turrets lining her side as something was dropped from the deck, its white color a stark contrast to the dark blue steel. A third puff came into existence as the sound from the second one reached the pair.
"I understand why I was hurried off by the Americans now," Yamato said.
Shokaku looked up at her quizzically as another white object fell into the sea.
"They're paying respects to their dead, who I assume were killed recently," the battleship explained as a third, and seemingly final object fell, "They're far from home, with no way to return. Even Enterprise lost the steel hulls that were escorting her across to us along the way. Their bodies would be a burden."
Off Shokaku's side, the towering pagoda that was Kongou swiftly fell out of line and ran parallel to the American fleet, giving them a salute from her own guns. Across the formation, Yamato could see Kirishima following suit.
"Shokaku, get in contact with Kaga," she ordered, "We'll be detaching along with Kongou, Maya, and Harekaze. The rest will stay in formation with her paralleling the Americans with at least 20 kilometers between the two fleets. Less chance we have of provoking the Ghost Fleet the better."
"What if she questions the order?", the carrier asked, "You know how those First Carrier Division girls are."
"Counter it with the fact that I'm exercising my right as Yamato, Japan personified," the big warship stated.
"Understood Yamato-san," Shokaku said.
Kaga, like Shokaku predicted, was less than pleased. Arguing back and forth over the wireless and eventually in person as the detachment gathered on her flight deck for transport, Kaga was relentless, until Yamato told her exactly who she was going to board if she came. Minutes later, a big American bomber came to a screeching halt on Kaga's deck, the two engines roaring impatiently as they boarded. The aircraft rolled to the rear of Kaga's runway as the group was getting settled in their seats. Soon enough they were airborne.
"Sorry Ma'am!", one of the crew shouted over the engines, "We're having to take a detour! The flag's aircraft are only meant for moving one or two people. Thankfully, Liberty's got a few larger capacity birds!"
"Liberty?", Kongou asked, "That's an interesting name."
"We'll see soon enough," Yamato replied, leaning forward, "Please remember to speak in their tongue while aboard."
Yamato turned her attention to the officer, speaking in English, " Thank you for letting us know, Captain. How will this affect our arrival time?"
The officer smiled, "Not at all Ma'am! We were to pick up someone from Liberty anyways!"
He yelled over his shoulder, "Hey Charlie, Jethro, why don't you two give them the orbit before landing! Liberty's always a sight to see lit up at night!"
Yamato could barely hear the pilot's affirmative before settling back into her seat. A few minutes passed before light flooded the windows. Shokaku looked out and gasped. The rest followed suit. Yamato leaned back to look out her window, and was terrified. Down on the ocean below, spread out like an aircraft squadron were six carriers. She recognized five of them immediately. Two Essex, two Serkets, and a Midway. The sixth was why she feared American industry. In the center, a behemoth lumbered. A dark grey hull, long, low and fat, sliced through the waves angrily as the brightly lit flight deck and hangers stacked on top swarmed with ants, bees, and wasps, ready for war. It was around this monster the plane circled.
"Is that..?", Maya asked.
"Yes," Yamato said, "A second Texas."
The plane banked sharply and aligned itself to land. Seconds later, Yamato and her party were treated to a sharp jolt and a quick slow down as the plane landed. The engines died down to a rumble as the aircraft rolled off the landing zone and onto an elevator which took them down into the brightly lit hangar. After the plane had stopped moving, the party was allowed to disembark. Shokaku was amazed .The hangar was cavernous, easily the same height as both of Kaga's combined. Fighters, bombers, and spare parts hung from the ceiling or rested in racks on both sides of the ship. Every so often, she would see one of the racks quickly lower to the deck to load or unload a plane then quickly raise back up. Trucks, forklifts and tractors moved quickly around the space, weaving through and around squadrons and support structures.
"Wait here," the officer said.
Below her feet, the deck gave a sharp jolt as a loud bang echoed into the cavern from the flight deck above. Not even a minute later, calls of "STAND CLEAR'' echoed through the hanger as a large section of the ceiling started to lower. The thunder of engines drowned out the hangar noise as the elevator came down. A blast of wind and sea spray hit them as a tall blue fin came into view, followed by a large silver fuselage. The elevator set down with a clunk as the plane's six engines stopped, leaving behind a massive silence only punctuated by the dripping of water off its riveted body. A small truck quickly arrived and started to push the airplane back towards the group as the large wingspan slowly started to fold in on itself, the blue painted raised wingtips nearly touching the inboardmost engine housing. Someone tapped Shokaku on her shoulder.
"Is it just me, or did those engines sound just like those fighter craft from that movie we watched before the mission?", Kongou asked.
"Which ones?", Maya asked, "The Rebel ones or the Empire's?"
"I don't know!" ,Kongou snapped, "I was too busy thinking about Teitoku! It was the ones that chased the freighter in that one scene with the asteroid field and those destroyers."
"Oh, the TIE Fighters?" ,Shokaku replied, "Yeah, I had the same feeling."
The group stepped aside as the plane rolled past, its many tires squeaking on the metal. Painted on the side of the nose was a massive eagle, wings and talons stretched wide in front of a burnt, torn and holed American flag surrounded by the words "Liberty and Justice". As the plane came to a stop, three large sets of doors opened up on its belly and men swarmed in with carts and tools. A hatch near the underslung nose turret popped open and the plane's crew dropped out.
The officer from before walked over to the crew and started talking to one of the several green clad figures. After a few moments, he and the crew member started to walk over.
The crew member turned around towards the plane for a second, "Adams, make sure they check that pump again. Elevators still feel sluggish, might be more shrapnel in the lines."
"Aye, Ma'am!", one of the crew members responded.
As the pair grew closer to Shokaku and the others, the crew member took off the brown leather cap they wore, releasing long dark brown hair to drape around her shoulders.
"Ladies, this is Sticks. She'll be your pilot over to the flagship."
"So you're the ones that caused so much chatter on the radio? Can't say I'm impressed," she said, looking them over, "But if the Admiral sees fit to allow you on board his precious battleship, I see no point in arguing. Let's get moving, our bird should be ready by now."
The group wound its way through the hangar, dodging aircraft and personnel alike. On another elevator sat a dark blue Catalina, the two pilots from earlier leaning against it, having a smoke.
"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?", Sticks yelled, startling the two.
"Oh, uh, Major," one of them started, "We were just , uh…"
"Don't you dare start that horseshit with me, Lieutenant! Smoking in a damned hanger? Not even twenty feet away from a fucking fuel hose?" she continued, gesturing at the hose in question, still slightly glistening with wet fuel, "Are you two out of your goddamned minds?"
The group all looked at each other as the Major tore into the two pilots. The berating continued for a few minutes as the two pilots babbled, trying to come up with an excuse. Eventually, the two managed to get away from the Major.
"Fucking flagship idiots," she said as the two pilots vanished into the rest of the hanger and a group of MPs showed up, having heard the tirade. After conversing with the major, they set off in pursuit of the pair while the Major turned back to the group.
"Sorry," she said halfheartedly, "Damned battleship jockeys don't know how to act in a real hangar. Come on now, we're running late as it is!"
Everyone climbed into the flying boat and got themselves seated in the cramped fuselage.
"I thought these things fit ten!" Maya shouted as the engines started to build to a rumble.
"They can," Sticks responded over the intercom with a laugh, "Never said that they would be comfortable, or in the same part of the plane!"
The Catalina jolted under their seats and the light coming through the glass nose turned to the black of night.
"Everyone buckled back there?" ,the Major asked, "In just a few moments, we'll be turned around and put in position for launch. Hold on."
The intercom clicked off and everyone looked at each other worriedly until Shokaku broke the silence.
"Launched?" ,she asked.
The plane lurched to the side.
"Surely, they can't be serious," Kongou scoffed, "This thing wouldn't…"
Kongou was interrupted by a loud clunk coming from the front of the plane, followed by the engines spinning up to a deafening roar.
"Sticks to Control, engines spun up and controls set for takeoff. Set Launch One for takeoff weight of Three Two Five Hundred. Clear for launch."
A few moments later, the Catalina jerked into motion. The rubber tires sung across the wood planking, gathering in intensity and pitch as the world outside the windows began to blur. Suddenly, just as the tire song was reaching its peak, the plane dropped out from under the group for a moment. Nothing but the roar of the engines filled the cabin.
"Sticks to Liberty," the voice echoed from the cockpit, "Clear of the pattern, proceeding to Lone Star. Engine Two is running a bit hot, advise someone write that down for a look when we get home."
A few minutes later, the Catalina touched down in the water with all the subtlety of a whale.
"Is it over?" Maya asked, her knuckles white as they gripped her seat.
The Major appeared from the cockpit, her movements seemingly barely affected by the bobbing of the aircraft over the waves.
"I would suggest y'all stay seated," she said as she popped open the left side hatch, "Things might get a little wet."
"Don't worry," she smirked, "This happens all the time. It's part of the fun!"
The Major climbed out of the hatch, laughing. Seconds later, the group could hear boot steps on the top of the fuselage. They all looked at each other, wondering what was going on. The footsteps finally stopped over Kongou's head and silence returned for a moment. A loud bang jolted the fast battleship out of her seat, which would have been amusing to the others if the same hadn't nearly happened to them. The footsteps started towards the nose of the craft for a few seconds before the Catalina stopped bobbing altogether. Waves tickled the bottom of the open hatch and a small pool of water had started to form as the Major climbed back inside, closing the hatch's glass canopy before sitting down in one of the open chairs.
"Well, that's over with," she said, annoyed, "Crane operators can't hook a Cat even if their lives depended on it."
The plane started to sway a little bit as it started to move sideways. Seconds later, the plane hit something with a lurch and the hatch once again swung open. A sailor popped his head in, hand firmly placed on top of his white fabric cap, and grinned, "Ladies, Major, welcome aboard."
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
Hey all, apologies about the long hiatus. Life caught up with me and didn't really get around to writing again until a few days ago. New chapter "Wary Welcome" and updated/revised Chapters "Prologue pt. 2" and "Invitation".
Last edited:
Spherical_Light
Likely Illuminating a room near you
- Location
- NW US
This is interesting, yeah, life gets to us all these days, sometimes its hard to get back to writing in midst of all that goes on.
Look forward to more.
Look forward to more.
Interlude 1
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
The State of Humanity, First steps into the Abyssal War, 2012 A.D.
Report Compiled by Cambridge University Historical Department, United Earth, 2148 AD
After what is now termed "The Battle for the Oceans", literally just a six-week long opening salvo of the war to come, Humanity was crippled. In those six weeks, the navies of the world were nearly eliminated, with the US Navy retaining the largest remaining steel hulled fleet with a grand total of possibly 50 vessels still in various states of operation across the globe. This culling of man's navies also extended to the merchant fleets, of which it is assumed that all the vessels not in port were lost with all hands. Air travel over the oceans increased in order to attempt to counter the loss of shipping, but as more and more aircraft were lost in the following months, it was clear that Earth's oceans were no longer safe. This loss affected the Old World significantly more than the New as the loss of overseas trade threatened to cause another Great Depression in Europe. To counter these effects in the Western Hemisphere, the United States and other American countries banded together to form a American Federation, a treaty organization built specifically for overall defense and economic prosperity for the Americas. This significantly helped to improve relations and establish connections between countries, especially in the Latin America region. Barely a year after the oceans turned to blood, the coastlines of North and Central America were bristling with guns, some even dating back to the Second World War, as the US and other countries broke out their stockpiles, reserves, and god knows what else, to secure territorial waters. China, Japan, and other countries in Australasia, however, were not so lucky.
As each part of the world became more and more isolated during the initial breakdown of communication lines(it is assumed by historians and scientists that the various undersea cables were harvested for materials by the Abyss, and what we now term as Abyssal Spooky Scary Bullsh*t or ASSB(s), was responsible for the degrading transmissions via satellites among other things.), the delicate balance in the seas around Asia shattered. Three months after the start of the war, all Abyssal presence around Japan vanished. The cause of this was soon discovered as the battered Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force cautiously plied the open waters around the home islands. Much to their horror, China was gone. The reports and logs of JS Kongou from that period tell of a coastline that was dead, looking more like the surface of Earth's moon than an industrial nation. Entire cities lay in rubble in the middle of vast grey plains pockmarked with craters, and the land itself was harder than concrete. Records retrieved from the ruins of Shanghai in a later expedition show that in response to the destruction of the carrier Liaoning, the People's Liberation Army Navy went on a short, but highly aggressive warpath that saw the near total destruction of said force, and retaliation in kind from the Abyssals. It is estimated that more ordinance fell on Chinese land than the entire island hopping campaign in the Second World War, rendering a massive dead zone all the way down the coastline with a minimum width of dozens of miles. It is unknown just how many people managed to make it far enough into the interior of China, but historians believe not many were able to make it out of the disaster zone in time. To the date of this document, prepared nearly a century after the war's end, the Chinese coast has proven inhospitable besides for the parts closer to Korea which had the benefit of the latter's protection in those early days.
This brings us to the Koreas, or rather now, Korea. As China died a horrible death in flames, so did the dictatorship comprising the former country of North Korea. Taking advantage of the situation, crazed dictator Kim Jong Un pushed through the Korean Demilitarized Zone reigniting the Korean War, which had been in a ceasefire since 1953. Shortly after the start of the invasion, Japan managed to reestablish communications with South Korea and offered to help fight back the emboldened North. Pushing aside decades of tense relations, South Korea accepted, resulting in the North's advance halting on the outskirts of Seoul then reversing as supply lines collapsed and the aid promised by the failing Chinese government were redeployed elsewhere. The renewed war lasted 6 months as forces composed of South Korean, Japanese, and the remaining American forces in the region pushed towards Pyongyang and the border, while also inserting forces behind enemy lines to sever communications between armies, and more importantly to the various nuclear sites scattered around the countryside. The renewed conflict lasted the better part of a year, eventually concluding with the utter dissolution of the North Korean state. Reconstruction, and integration efforts on the Korean Peninsula would last for the remainder of the war and beyond, leaving Japan and the Americans stationed there to defend against the tides.
The Malaysian and Australian regions fared a bit better than those up north. Like the Americas, most countries in the region banded together in an economic and military pact in order to ensure their continued existence. Those countries that didn't join said pact also benefited from the arrangement for the most part, but several smaller countries ended up collapsing as government funds ran dry.
The European theatre of the war is always an interesting subject. After the total breakdown of intercontinental communications and trade, Europe was in a rather precarious state. With their biggest trading partner, the United States, cut off, economies tanked, nearly driving the continent into a second Great Depression, and what better way to stop an economic depression than mobilizing for war. As with the North Koreans, an increasingly militant Russia decided to push their luck, quickly invading half of Ukraine and starting a military campaign into the Middle East. Unfortunately, things went better for Russia than it did for North Korea, and the Russians would gain the eastern half of Ukraine, plus the entirety of Kazakhstan, and Uzbekistan until the Third World War. Overall, this seizure of sovereign countries by the Russian Federation helped to stabilize and strengthen Europe's economies as powers such as France, the UK and Germany put their industries to work in an attempt to build up enough land forces that could potentially counter the Russians if they decided to get greedy again. These heightened tensions in Europe would continue to build throughout the war, eventually sparking the Third World War mere months after the Abyss was finally defeated.
Regarding military power in the beginning stages of the Abyssal War, it has already been stated just how badly the maritime world was culled, but not in detail. Several countries, like Russia, China, and Italy, had their navies wiped out entirely as the seas fell to the enemy. Other countries were more lucky. It has already been stated that roughly 50 vessels of the United States Navy survived the first six weeks, but what was not mentioned was the actual force numbers. Of the roughly 300 warships in commission, only 3 carriers, 22 destroyers, 12 frigates, 1 LHD, 12 submarines, and the USS Constitution remained afloat or in some sort of serviceable condition worldwide. Estimates initially place 30-40 more US Naval vessels in service, but said ships are logistics and support craft not designed for front line combat and as such, have not been included in the initial figures. Ships that were under construction at the start of the Abyssal War as well as ships placed in the reserve fleets were left off this list.
Definitive List of Active Warships after the Battle for the Oceans, 2012
United States
USS Nimitz CVN-68
USS Ronald Reagan CVN-76
USS Dwight D. Eisenhower CVN-69
USS Arleigh Burke DDG-51
USS John Paul Jones DDG-53
USS Stout DDG-55
USS Mitscher DDG-57
USS Fitzgerald DDG-62
USS Benfold DDG-65
USS Cole DDG-67
USS The Sullivans DDG-68
USS Ross DDG-71
USS Mahan DDG-72
USS Donald Cook DDG-75
USS Higgins DDG-76
USS Porter DDG-78
USS Roosevelt DDG-80
USS Winston S. Churchill DDG-81
USS Preble DDG-88
USS Forrest Sherman DDG-98
USS Farragut DDG-99
USS Kidd DDG-100
USS Gridley DDG-101
USS Truxtun DDG-103
USS Dewey DDG-105
USS McClusky FFG-41
USS Thach FFG-43
USS Vandegrift FFG-48
USS Taylor FFG-50
USS Carr FFG-52
USS Hawes FFG-53
USS Ford FFG-54
USS Simpson FFG-56
USS Rueben James FFG-57
USS Samuel B. Roberts FFG-58
USS Kauffman FFG-59
USS Ingraham FFG-61
USS Seawolf SSN-21
USS Connecticut SSN-22
USS Providence SSN-719
USS Key West SSN-722
USS Helena SSN-725
USS Ohio SSGN-726
USS Michigan SSGN-727
USS Topeka SSN-754
USS Virginia SSN-774
USS North Carolina SSN-777
USS Minnesota SSN-783
USS Mississippi SSN-782
USS Bonhomme Richard LHD-6
Other nations suffered even worse losses, with countries such as Japan and the United Kingdom being reduced to less than ten vessels each.
Japan
JS Kongou
JS Chokai
JS Ise
The United Kingdom
HMS Illustrious
HMS Vanguard
HMS Daring
HMS Dragon
HMS Iron Duke
France
FS De Gaulle
FS Courbet
FS Terrible
Please take note that these are the ships that survived the first six weeks of the war, not including any ships in inactive reserve fleets, serving as decommissioned museum ships, or under construction. 84% of these few warships left after the first battle would not see the end of the war, while 68% of the ships currently under construction across the world would either be destroyed before launch, while fitting out, or in their first contact with the Abyss. No ships serving as museums floating or with quick access to navigable waters would survive the war as they entered it besides the armored cruiser USS Olympia, who is preserved as a part of the Smithsonian Institute's collection. This report only relates to the first year of the Abyssal War and presents a brief overview as such. For more detailed information regarding the first year of the war and the rest of the conflict and its effects, please see the Abyssal War section of the Smithsonian Institute archives for the complete collection.
Report Compiled by Cambridge University Historical Department, United Earth, 2148 AD
After what is now termed "The Battle for the Oceans", literally just a six-week long opening salvo of the war to come, Humanity was crippled. In those six weeks, the navies of the world were nearly eliminated, with the US Navy retaining the largest remaining steel hulled fleet with a grand total of possibly 50 vessels still in various states of operation across the globe. This culling of man's navies also extended to the merchant fleets, of which it is assumed that all the vessels not in port were lost with all hands. Air travel over the oceans increased in order to attempt to counter the loss of shipping, but as more and more aircraft were lost in the following months, it was clear that Earth's oceans were no longer safe. This loss affected the Old World significantly more than the New as the loss of overseas trade threatened to cause another Great Depression in Europe. To counter these effects in the Western Hemisphere, the United States and other American countries banded together to form a American Federation, a treaty organization built specifically for overall defense and economic prosperity for the Americas. This significantly helped to improve relations and establish connections between countries, especially in the Latin America region. Barely a year after the oceans turned to blood, the coastlines of North and Central America were bristling with guns, some even dating back to the Second World War, as the US and other countries broke out their stockpiles, reserves, and god knows what else, to secure territorial waters. China, Japan, and other countries in Australasia, however, were not so lucky.
As each part of the world became more and more isolated during the initial breakdown of communication lines(it is assumed by historians and scientists that the various undersea cables were harvested for materials by the Abyss, and what we now term as Abyssal Spooky Scary Bullsh*t or ASSB(s), was responsible for the degrading transmissions via satellites among other things.), the delicate balance in the seas around Asia shattered. Three months after the start of the war, all Abyssal presence around Japan vanished. The cause of this was soon discovered as the battered Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force cautiously plied the open waters around the home islands. Much to their horror, China was gone. The reports and logs of JS Kongou from that period tell of a coastline that was dead, looking more like the surface of Earth's moon than an industrial nation. Entire cities lay in rubble in the middle of vast grey plains pockmarked with craters, and the land itself was harder than concrete. Records retrieved from the ruins of Shanghai in a later expedition show that in response to the destruction of the carrier Liaoning, the People's Liberation Army Navy went on a short, but highly aggressive warpath that saw the near total destruction of said force, and retaliation in kind from the Abyssals. It is estimated that more ordinance fell on Chinese land than the entire island hopping campaign in the Second World War, rendering a massive dead zone all the way down the coastline with a minimum width of dozens of miles. It is unknown just how many people managed to make it far enough into the interior of China, but historians believe not many were able to make it out of the disaster zone in time. To the date of this document, prepared nearly a century after the war's end, the Chinese coast has proven inhospitable besides for the parts closer to Korea which had the benefit of the latter's protection in those early days.
This brings us to the Koreas, or rather now, Korea. As China died a horrible death in flames, so did the dictatorship comprising the former country of North Korea. Taking advantage of the situation, crazed dictator Kim Jong Un pushed through the Korean Demilitarized Zone reigniting the Korean War, which had been in a ceasefire since 1953. Shortly after the start of the invasion, Japan managed to reestablish communications with South Korea and offered to help fight back the emboldened North. Pushing aside decades of tense relations, South Korea accepted, resulting in the North's advance halting on the outskirts of Seoul then reversing as supply lines collapsed and the aid promised by the failing Chinese government were redeployed elsewhere. The renewed war lasted 6 months as forces composed of South Korean, Japanese, and the remaining American forces in the region pushed towards Pyongyang and the border, while also inserting forces behind enemy lines to sever communications between armies, and more importantly to the various nuclear sites scattered around the countryside. The renewed conflict lasted the better part of a year, eventually concluding with the utter dissolution of the North Korean state. Reconstruction, and integration efforts on the Korean Peninsula would last for the remainder of the war and beyond, leaving Japan and the Americans stationed there to defend against the tides.
The Malaysian and Australian regions fared a bit better than those up north. Like the Americas, most countries in the region banded together in an economic and military pact in order to ensure their continued existence. Those countries that didn't join said pact also benefited from the arrangement for the most part, but several smaller countries ended up collapsing as government funds ran dry.
The European theatre of the war is always an interesting subject. After the total breakdown of intercontinental communications and trade, Europe was in a rather precarious state. With their biggest trading partner, the United States, cut off, economies tanked, nearly driving the continent into a second Great Depression, and what better way to stop an economic depression than mobilizing for war. As with the North Koreans, an increasingly militant Russia decided to push their luck, quickly invading half of Ukraine and starting a military campaign into the Middle East. Unfortunately, things went better for Russia than it did for North Korea, and the Russians would gain the eastern half of Ukraine, plus the entirety of Kazakhstan, and Uzbekistan until the Third World War. Overall, this seizure of sovereign countries by the Russian Federation helped to stabilize and strengthen Europe's economies as powers such as France, the UK and Germany put their industries to work in an attempt to build up enough land forces that could potentially counter the Russians if they decided to get greedy again. These heightened tensions in Europe would continue to build throughout the war, eventually sparking the Third World War mere months after the Abyss was finally defeated.
Regarding military power in the beginning stages of the Abyssal War, it has already been stated just how badly the maritime world was culled, but not in detail. Several countries, like Russia, China, and Italy, had their navies wiped out entirely as the seas fell to the enemy. Other countries were more lucky. It has already been stated that roughly 50 vessels of the United States Navy survived the first six weeks, but what was not mentioned was the actual force numbers. Of the roughly 300 warships in commission, only 3 carriers, 22 destroyers, 12 frigates, 1 LHD, 12 submarines, and the USS Constitution remained afloat or in some sort of serviceable condition worldwide. Estimates initially place 30-40 more US Naval vessels in service, but said ships are logistics and support craft not designed for front line combat and as such, have not been included in the initial figures. Ships that were under construction at the start of the Abyssal War as well as ships placed in the reserve fleets were left off this list.
Definitive List of Active Warships after the Battle for the Oceans, 2012
United States
USS Nimitz CVN-68
USS Ronald Reagan CVN-76
USS Dwight D. Eisenhower CVN-69
USS Arleigh Burke DDG-51
USS John Paul Jones DDG-53
USS Stout DDG-55
USS Mitscher DDG-57
USS Fitzgerald DDG-62
USS Benfold DDG-65
USS Cole DDG-67
USS The Sullivans DDG-68
USS Ross DDG-71
USS Mahan DDG-72
USS Donald Cook DDG-75
USS Higgins DDG-76
USS Porter DDG-78
USS Roosevelt DDG-80
USS Winston S. Churchill DDG-81
USS Preble DDG-88
USS Forrest Sherman DDG-98
USS Farragut DDG-99
USS Kidd DDG-100
USS Gridley DDG-101
USS Truxtun DDG-103
USS Dewey DDG-105
USS McClusky FFG-41
USS Thach FFG-43
USS Vandegrift FFG-48
USS Taylor FFG-50
USS Carr FFG-52
USS Hawes FFG-53
USS Ford FFG-54
USS Simpson FFG-56
USS Rueben James FFG-57
USS Samuel B. Roberts FFG-58
USS Kauffman FFG-59
USS Ingraham FFG-61
USS Seawolf SSN-21
USS Connecticut SSN-22
USS Providence SSN-719
USS Key West SSN-722
USS Helena SSN-725
USS Ohio SSGN-726
USS Michigan SSGN-727
USS Topeka SSN-754
USS Virginia SSN-774
USS North Carolina SSN-777
USS Minnesota SSN-783
USS Mississippi SSN-782
USS Bonhomme Richard LHD-6
Other nations suffered even worse losses, with countries such as Japan and the United Kingdom being reduced to less than ten vessels each.
Japan
JS Kongou
JS Chokai
JS Ise
The United Kingdom
HMS Illustrious
HMS Vanguard
HMS Daring
HMS Dragon
HMS Iron Duke
France
FS De Gaulle
FS Courbet
FS Terrible
Please take note that these are the ships that survived the first six weeks of the war, not including any ships in inactive reserve fleets, serving as decommissioned museum ships, or under construction. 84% of these few warships left after the first battle would not see the end of the war, while 68% of the ships currently under construction across the world would either be destroyed before launch, while fitting out, or in their first contact with the Abyss. No ships serving as museums floating or with quick access to navigable waters would survive the war as they entered it besides the armored cruiser USS Olympia, who is preserved as a part of the Smithsonian Institute's collection. This report only relates to the first year of the Abyssal War and presents a brief overview as such. For more detailed information regarding the first year of the war and the rest of the conflict and its effects, please see the Abyssal War section of the Smithsonian Institute archives for the complete collection.
Dinner Awaits
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
An officer standing near the rear main battery turrets waved the group over as Yamato climbed out of the flying boat. The Major gave a salute to the man, who returned the favor as the group approached.
"I am Lieutenant Commander Connors," he said, "Welcome aboard Battleship Texas. These gentlemen…"
Two armed Marines walked up beside Connors before the officer continued.
"...and I will be your escort while you are on board tonight. The Admiral has given the order that you, while still the enemy until we get further confirmation from Command, are our guests and should be treated as such. These Marines are just here to make sure that the crew doesn't decide to take action against you for… various instances that occurred over the previous four years."
"Connors," the Major interrupted, "mind if we, you know, get inside? We're late as it is."
"Your father already heard about the incident on board America, Jaina," Connors replied, "He was quite understanding about the delay, much more so than the actions of the pilots in question. But yes, let's not keep him and that blasted carrier waiting. You, the one I met already, does she ever stop talking?"
Yamato was caught off guard by the directness of the question and stammered a response as they walked towards the ship's bow, "N-no sir, she was quite quiet until you appeared from the storm. Only communicated when required to."
"I guess I can see that, perhaps she was a bit on edge, at least until she met us," Connors chuckled, before entering a hatch into the ship's superstructure as the group all looked at the Major.
Up on the bridge, all was quiet as the tension mounted. The Officer of the Deck paced nervously. He, like many others, could feel the displeasure of the ship under their feet, and it was not just because of the Japanese that were coming aboard. Outside the bridge windows, at least the ones that didn't have the blast shields still jammed in their deployed position covering the replaced glass, only the faint outline of the bow and the dull gleam of the gun muzzles were visible in the darkness. The sonar pinged out in the dark.
"Conn, Sonar," the operator whispered, "One contact, holding steady bearing 025 degrees, 25 thousand yards."
"Radio, any contact with the Tambor?" the OD asked in a hushed tone.
"Not yet sir," the sailor replied, "Wait, picking up a burst transmission. It's in our code. Boys in the radio room working on it now."
As the bridge crew waited for the message in increasing tension, down below the waterline, hull plates around a scab started to flex dangerously.
"Admiral Davis, your guests and daughter have arrived," Connors spoke into an open doorway.
"Send them in," a man said from inside the room, the voice was coarse, with a hint of a southern accent.
As the officer stood aside, Kongou was nervous. She had faced this cursed fleet in the past, back when the mere sight of it was a terror of itself. Oily black clouds turning the ocean below it to night, throwing the ships sailing there into darkness. The rusted, burned hulls of those same ships, slicing through the sea like a hot sword coming for her throat, not to mention the wakes they left behind. She shuddered. Those wakes back in the Solomons, oil and blood mixed into a sickening froth that painted their sides with a dark red coat of congealed mess before trailing off behind, an ever present reminder to Kongou's fleet of what was to come and what had transpired only months prior. Kongou remembered the fear of her crew as she barely managed to escape their fury, but the memory was burned into her, and her crew's memory forever. What monster commanded such a fleet? The fast battleship followed Maya through the door and into a wood paneled room dominated by a large table. At the head of the table, the Admiral stood, flanked by Enterprise and another officer. For a man that took command of his battleship as a turret captain in WW1, and potentially the quickest rise from Ensign to Captain in the history of the US Navy, there were a bit less grey streaks in the Admiral's hair than one would expect. He smiled at the group, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly.
"Please sit," he said, "Glad to see most of y'all could make it. I'll have to see about getting the rest on board at some point."
The room quickly grew cold before Yamato spoke up, "With all due respect sir. It would probably be unwise to bring the rest on board anytime soon. We are a few of the ships that you directly fought against, or alongside in my case. The others not present don't exactly share the experience and respect we have for this fleet."
Especially Kaga, Shokaku thought.
"I am Lieutenant Commander Connors," he said, "Welcome aboard Battleship Texas. These gentlemen…"
Two armed Marines walked up beside Connors before the officer continued.
"...and I will be your escort while you are on board tonight. The Admiral has given the order that you, while still the enemy until we get further confirmation from Command, are our guests and should be treated as such. These Marines are just here to make sure that the crew doesn't decide to take action against you for… various instances that occurred over the previous four years."
"Connors," the Major interrupted, "mind if we, you know, get inside? We're late as it is."
"Your father already heard about the incident on board America, Jaina," Connors replied, "He was quite understanding about the delay, much more so than the actions of the pilots in question. But yes, let's not keep him and that blasted carrier waiting. You, the one I met already, does she ever stop talking?"
Yamato was caught off guard by the directness of the question and stammered a response as they walked towards the ship's bow, "N-no sir, she was quite quiet until you appeared from the storm. Only communicated when required to."
"I guess I can see that, perhaps she was a bit on edge, at least until she met us," Connors chuckled, before entering a hatch into the ship's superstructure as the group all looked at the Major.
Up on the bridge, all was quiet as the tension mounted. The Officer of the Deck paced nervously. He, like many others, could feel the displeasure of the ship under their feet, and it was not just because of the Japanese that were coming aboard. Outside the bridge windows, at least the ones that didn't have the blast shields still jammed in their deployed position covering the replaced glass, only the faint outline of the bow and the dull gleam of the gun muzzles were visible in the darkness. The sonar pinged out in the dark.
"Conn, Sonar," the operator whispered, "One contact, holding steady bearing 025 degrees, 25 thousand yards."
"Radio, any contact with the Tambor?" the OD asked in a hushed tone.
"Not yet sir," the sailor replied, "Wait, picking up a burst transmission. It's in our code. Boys in the radio room working on it now."
As the bridge crew waited for the message in increasing tension, down below the waterline, hull plates around a scab started to flex dangerously.
"Admiral Davis, your guests and daughter have arrived," Connors spoke into an open doorway.
"Send them in," a man said from inside the room, the voice was coarse, with a hint of a southern accent.
As the officer stood aside, Kongou was nervous. She had faced this cursed fleet in the past, back when the mere sight of it was a terror of itself. Oily black clouds turning the ocean below it to night, throwing the ships sailing there into darkness. The rusted, burned hulls of those same ships, slicing through the sea like a hot sword coming for her throat, not to mention the wakes they left behind. She shuddered. Those wakes back in the Solomons, oil and blood mixed into a sickening froth that painted their sides with a dark red coat of congealed mess before trailing off behind, an ever present reminder to Kongou's fleet of what was to come and what had transpired only months prior. Kongou remembered the fear of her crew as she barely managed to escape their fury, but the memory was burned into her, and her crew's memory forever. What monster commanded such a fleet? The fast battleship followed Maya through the door and into a wood paneled room dominated by a large table. At the head of the table, the Admiral stood, flanked by Enterprise and another officer. For a man that took command of his battleship as a turret captain in WW1, and potentially the quickest rise from Ensign to Captain in the history of the US Navy, there were a bit less grey streaks in the Admiral's hair than one would expect. He smiled at the group, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly.
"Please sit," he said, "Glad to see most of y'all could make it. I'll have to see about getting the rest on board at some point."
The room quickly grew cold before Yamato spoke up, "With all due respect sir. It would probably be unwise to bring the rest on board anytime soon. We are a few of the ships that you directly fought against, or alongside in my case. The others not present don't exactly share the experience and respect we have for this fleet."
Especially Kaga, Shokaku thought.
Dinner
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
"Sir," the radioman whispered, "We've decoded the transmission."
"Well?" the deck officer asked.
"It's from the Tambor. Captain Dodge reports a small squadron of unknown surface ships was approaching their picket position which is why they fell back into our sonar range."
"Have the boys in the radio room tell Dodge to shadow that squadron as long as possible. If they're close enough to the picket line to make them fall back, then they might be on course for the fleet. I want definite answers as to their nature before alerting the Admiral."
The deck under their feet slowly rolled with the waves as far down below, water began to seep in as chunks of concrete fell out of the ship and into the dark abyss.
"Ah, I see," the Admiral replied as everyone sat down, "I look forward to hearing how we can resolve that at a later time, Yamato. For now, let's get started with the introductions."
"Of course sir," Yamato said, gesturing to everyone as they were mentioned, "Besides myself, may I present aircraft carrier Shokaku, battlecruiser Kongou, heavy cruiser Maya and destroyer Harekaze."
As sailors placed plates of food in front of everyone, a woman entered the room and walked over to the Admiral, handing him a sheet of paper, "Fresh off the wireless sir. OD thought this warranted the interruption."
Davis looked at the paper for a moment before handing it back to the officer, "Thank you for letting me know, Lieutenant. Let Defiant's squadron take care of this one. Oh, and pull Tambor back from the perimeter, let the tender take her in tow for now. Have the OD assign one of the destroyers to her spot. That will be all."
The officer nodded and turned to leave the room. As she walked past Yamato, her demeanor changed slightly and a smirk formed on her face, which went unnoticed to everyone besides the Japanese battleship. However, Yamato's attention was drawn back to the table as Admiral Davis began to speak again.
"Now that you've introduced yourselves," he said, "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Jaina, whom you've already met, and Captain Spriggs of the USS Renegade, the fleet's designated secondary flagship in case something happens to this boat."
"Pfft. Like that would happen," a voice, no, Texas retorted.
Yamato looked around to find the source, but like last time, nothing to be found.
Davis continued on, "Enterprise has given us a great deal of information regarding the current situation, but not how these Abyssals managed to destroy the maritime world so effectively. Do any of you have an explanation?"
"Sir, that would be one of the first questions we would have an answer for if we had any answers at all," Maya explained, "All the information we were given came from the combat logs of the few Japanese Maritime Self- Defense Force ships that survived the initial massacre. The majority of their weapons and systems were ineffective against the Abyss, like they were reduced to their most primitive states. Missiles malfunctioned and acted like dumb point-and-shoot rockets. Sonar could pick up ships, but only within 6 nautical miles and even then it couldn't detect where they were just that they were there. Radar was more useful, but the data couldn't be used for anything but detection. Torpedoes and what guns they had were the most effective. Based on combat reports, they were as effective as weapons fielded during the first year of the Second World War. And this was only surface ships."
"Carriers were worse," Shokaku interjected, "Before the war, they were the main capital ships of the world, fielding increasingly advanced jet fighters. The Abyssals tore them to shreds. Jets were gutted by flak, and hangers set aflame as shells punched nearly clean through their walls. Gone was the era of stealth and smart weapons, back was the age of the gun. A shift no navy was capable of adapting to quickly. Due to the increasing technological advances of warfare after the Second World War, ships quickly lost their armor, and soon after, they lost most of their guns as missiles, spawned from rockets derived from captured Nazi technology, took precedence."
"Cruisers died out and the destroyers took over. Battleships died out worldwide in the 1950s, with only the four Iowa class ships serving beyond that, and that was just out of spite to the Soviets," Yamato continued, "Warships took on a new definition: Don't be spotted, shoot your missiles before the enemy can shoot theirs, and pray to god your two or three anti-aircraft guns could take out any missile aimed at you before you got hit."
"It has been five years since this war started," Enterprise added, "Four since Kongou, Mutsu and Maya showed up in Tokyo Harbor. As of now, the largest navy in the world is the JMSDF. They figured out quite quickly how and why we shipgirls, or kanmusu as they call us, appeared and managed to put it to use. From what I understand, it caused quite a stir whenever Yamato appeared out of the fog sailing under the Golden Gate along with her escorts and Taiho."
"I'm sure it was surprising," Davis said, "So, does this mean that the entire Imperial Japanese Navy returned from the depths then?"
"Nearly all sir," Yamato said, "Your little trophy wall on one of the forward turrets lists most of those who haven't returned, besides two. Harekaze and Yokozuna."
Everyone turned to the little destroyer who had been silent the entire time. She looked terrified.
The Admiral's face quickly turned from happiness to one of concern, "I am sorry little one. For all the pain and terror I put you and your crew through. I don't enjoy ordering my men and my ships to their deaths, much less the deaths of our enemies. My father, a prominent railroad man, instilled in me that every person on this earth matters and deserves a fair chance, those killed in war don't get to have that chance. War is just business, nothing more. Enterprise said our country won the war soon after we apparently vanished, but she never said what was lost doing so."
"Your Isolationist tendencies," Yamato said, "August 6th, 1945. The US Army Air Corps dropped the first of two atomic weapons onto our homeland at Hiroshima. Three days later, they dropped the second onto Nagasaki. Best modern estimates say between 129 and 226 thousand of my countrymen died in just those two actions, with thousands more affected in the generations afterwards. The Emperor forced our surrender on August 15th, 1945, having enough of the lies told to him by the military dictatorship, especially after Nagasaki. After the war, this deployment of atomic weaponry set off a decades long Cold War between the Soviet Union and you Americans. A nuclear and technological arms race, punctuated by proxy wars such as Korea, and Vietnam among others. Instead of slipping back into the shadows while letting the 'old powers' back at it, the United States was at the center of global politics, and as the 'Leader of the Free World', became Earth's police force. Your country has intervened and initiated conflicts all across the world since our surrender, all in the name of 'democracy'."
"I see," Davis muttered before speaking clearly, "Well, since you all answered my question. What do you want to know from us? Surely there must be questions swimming around in your what? Heads? Bridges? I'm still getting used to all this to be fair, but go on, ask away!"
Enterprise was the first to speak, "Sir, Navy regulations from our time didn't allow women pilots aboard ships, so how..?"
"How did I manage to get to be a fighter jockey on a carrier?" the Major, no, Jaina interrupted, finishing Enterprise's question, "Quite a story actually."
"New orders from the Admiral," the woman announced as she entered the bridge, handing the Officer of the Deck a clipboard.
"Johnson, I thought I said to not inform the Admiral until we made a positive identification," he replied sternly while reading over the papers on the clipboard.
"I'm sorry sir," Johnson stood at attention, "orders were explicit. Admiral Davis wanted to be kept informed while he was at dinner."
"Understood," the OD replied, "you have your orders then. See to them immediately."
"I already have sir," she reported, "Stopped by Radio on the way up from the Admiral's mess. Picket changes should be completed in twenty minutes."
Outside, the OD could see the long, fine bow of a Defiant class battleship pull ahead of the fleet along with four cruisers, all of them trailing geysers of foam behind.
"So by the time they realized their mistake, I had already shipped out to the Hornet and shot down three Zeros! Of course, Command didn't like the fact that they screwed up and let a woman into the fleet's fighter corps. Especially since the Army Air Corps was just using them as ferry pilots and the Hornet was about to get a fair amount of press coverage thanks to the Doolittle mission. So, they quietly transferred me to the Marine's aircraft squadrons and shipped me off on the Reprisal when she joined the First Fleet, hoping I'd just give up. Imagine my father's surprise when he came aboard for the initial ship inspection, and found me as one of the Reprisal's squadron leaders!" Jaina laughed.
The Admiral smiled, slightly, "It was a shock to be sure, but most definitely a welcome one in the long run. Her squadron always seems to be in the right position when things tend to go south."
"Like the time that Val was diving on the Mount Hood while she was helping restock Valiant's and your ammunition supplies?" Captain Spriggs chimed in.
"We don't talk about that," Davis said quickly, "Ever."
Both Jaina and Captain Spriggs burst out laughing.
Yamato and a few of the others gave a little chuckle at that.
Before anyone could continue, a knock came from the steel door.
"Enter," Davis called, before the door unlocked and swung open with a screech, allowing the same officer from earlier to step in.
"Apologies for interrupting sir," she said, "But we've just received a transmission from Captain Sisko. The Defiant has been fired upon. The squadron has engaged the enemy."
"Well?" the deck officer asked.
"It's from the Tambor. Captain Dodge reports a small squadron of unknown surface ships was approaching their picket position which is why they fell back into our sonar range."
"Have the boys in the radio room tell Dodge to shadow that squadron as long as possible. If they're close enough to the picket line to make them fall back, then they might be on course for the fleet. I want definite answers as to their nature before alerting the Admiral."
The deck under their feet slowly rolled with the waves as far down below, water began to seep in as chunks of concrete fell out of the ship and into the dark abyss.
"Ah, I see," the Admiral replied as everyone sat down, "I look forward to hearing how we can resolve that at a later time, Yamato. For now, let's get started with the introductions."
"Of course sir," Yamato said, gesturing to everyone as they were mentioned, "Besides myself, may I present aircraft carrier Shokaku, battlecruiser Kongou, heavy cruiser Maya and destroyer Harekaze."
As sailors placed plates of food in front of everyone, a woman entered the room and walked over to the Admiral, handing him a sheet of paper, "Fresh off the wireless sir. OD thought this warranted the interruption."
Davis looked at the paper for a moment before handing it back to the officer, "Thank you for letting me know, Lieutenant. Let Defiant's squadron take care of this one. Oh, and pull Tambor back from the perimeter, let the tender take her in tow for now. Have the OD assign one of the destroyers to her spot. That will be all."
The officer nodded and turned to leave the room. As she walked past Yamato, her demeanor changed slightly and a smirk formed on her face, which went unnoticed to everyone besides the Japanese battleship. However, Yamato's attention was drawn back to the table as Admiral Davis began to speak again.
"Now that you've introduced yourselves," he said, "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Jaina, whom you've already met, and Captain Spriggs of the USS Renegade, the fleet's designated secondary flagship in case something happens to this boat."
"Pfft. Like that would happen," a voice, no, Texas retorted.
Yamato looked around to find the source, but like last time, nothing to be found.
Davis continued on, "Enterprise has given us a great deal of information regarding the current situation, but not how these Abyssals managed to destroy the maritime world so effectively. Do any of you have an explanation?"
"Sir, that would be one of the first questions we would have an answer for if we had any answers at all," Maya explained, "All the information we were given came from the combat logs of the few Japanese Maritime Self- Defense Force ships that survived the initial massacre. The majority of their weapons and systems were ineffective against the Abyss, like they were reduced to their most primitive states. Missiles malfunctioned and acted like dumb point-and-shoot rockets. Sonar could pick up ships, but only within 6 nautical miles and even then it couldn't detect where they were just that they were there. Radar was more useful, but the data couldn't be used for anything but detection. Torpedoes and what guns they had were the most effective. Based on combat reports, they were as effective as weapons fielded during the first year of the Second World War. And this was only surface ships."
"Carriers were worse," Shokaku interjected, "Before the war, they were the main capital ships of the world, fielding increasingly advanced jet fighters. The Abyssals tore them to shreds. Jets were gutted by flak, and hangers set aflame as shells punched nearly clean through their walls. Gone was the era of stealth and smart weapons, back was the age of the gun. A shift no navy was capable of adapting to quickly. Due to the increasing technological advances of warfare after the Second World War, ships quickly lost their armor, and soon after, they lost most of their guns as missiles, spawned from rockets derived from captured Nazi technology, took precedence."
"Cruisers died out and the destroyers took over. Battleships died out worldwide in the 1950s, with only the four Iowa class ships serving beyond that, and that was just out of spite to the Soviets," Yamato continued, "Warships took on a new definition: Don't be spotted, shoot your missiles before the enemy can shoot theirs, and pray to god your two or three anti-aircraft guns could take out any missile aimed at you before you got hit."
"It has been five years since this war started," Enterprise added, "Four since Kongou, Mutsu and Maya showed up in Tokyo Harbor. As of now, the largest navy in the world is the JMSDF. They figured out quite quickly how and why we shipgirls, or kanmusu as they call us, appeared and managed to put it to use. From what I understand, it caused quite a stir whenever Yamato appeared out of the fog sailing under the Golden Gate along with her escorts and Taiho."
"I'm sure it was surprising," Davis said, "So, does this mean that the entire Imperial Japanese Navy returned from the depths then?"
"Nearly all sir," Yamato said, "Your little trophy wall on one of the forward turrets lists most of those who haven't returned, besides two. Harekaze and Yokozuna."
Everyone turned to the little destroyer who had been silent the entire time. She looked terrified.
The Admiral's face quickly turned from happiness to one of concern, "I am sorry little one. For all the pain and terror I put you and your crew through. I don't enjoy ordering my men and my ships to their deaths, much less the deaths of our enemies. My father, a prominent railroad man, instilled in me that every person on this earth matters and deserves a fair chance, those killed in war don't get to have that chance. War is just business, nothing more. Enterprise said our country won the war soon after we apparently vanished, but she never said what was lost doing so."
"Your Isolationist tendencies," Yamato said, "August 6th, 1945. The US Army Air Corps dropped the first of two atomic weapons onto our homeland at Hiroshima. Three days later, they dropped the second onto Nagasaki. Best modern estimates say between 129 and 226 thousand of my countrymen died in just those two actions, with thousands more affected in the generations afterwards. The Emperor forced our surrender on August 15th, 1945, having enough of the lies told to him by the military dictatorship, especially after Nagasaki. After the war, this deployment of atomic weaponry set off a decades long Cold War between the Soviet Union and you Americans. A nuclear and technological arms race, punctuated by proxy wars such as Korea, and Vietnam among others. Instead of slipping back into the shadows while letting the 'old powers' back at it, the United States was at the center of global politics, and as the 'Leader of the Free World', became Earth's police force. Your country has intervened and initiated conflicts all across the world since our surrender, all in the name of 'democracy'."
"I see," Davis muttered before speaking clearly, "Well, since you all answered my question. What do you want to know from us? Surely there must be questions swimming around in your what? Heads? Bridges? I'm still getting used to all this to be fair, but go on, ask away!"
Enterprise was the first to speak, "Sir, Navy regulations from our time didn't allow women pilots aboard ships, so how..?"
"How did I manage to get to be a fighter jockey on a carrier?" the Major, no, Jaina interrupted, finishing Enterprise's question, "Quite a story actually."
"New orders from the Admiral," the woman announced as she entered the bridge, handing the Officer of the Deck a clipboard.
"Johnson, I thought I said to not inform the Admiral until we made a positive identification," he replied sternly while reading over the papers on the clipboard.
"I'm sorry sir," Johnson stood at attention, "orders were explicit. Admiral Davis wanted to be kept informed while he was at dinner."
"Understood," the OD replied, "you have your orders then. See to them immediately."
"I already have sir," she reported, "Stopped by Radio on the way up from the Admiral's mess. Picket changes should be completed in twenty minutes."
Outside, the OD could see the long, fine bow of a Defiant class battleship pull ahead of the fleet along with four cruisers, all of them trailing geysers of foam behind.
"So by the time they realized their mistake, I had already shipped out to the Hornet and shot down three Zeros! Of course, Command didn't like the fact that they screwed up and let a woman into the fleet's fighter corps. Especially since the Army Air Corps was just using them as ferry pilots and the Hornet was about to get a fair amount of press coverage thanks to the Doolittle mission. So, they quietly transferred me to the Marine's aircraft squadrons and shipped me off on the Reprisal when she joined the First Fleet, hoping I'd just give up. Imagine my father's surprise when he came aboard for the initial ship inspection, and found me as one of the Reprisal's squadron leaders!" Jaina laughed.
The Admiral smiled, slightly, "It was a shock to be sure, but most definitely a welcome one in the long run. Her squadron always seems to be in the right position when things tend to go south."
"Like the time that Val was diving on the Mount Hood while she was helping restock Valiant's and your ammunition supplies?" Captain Spriggs chimed in.
"We don't talk about that," Davis said quickly, "Ever."
Both Jaina and Captain Spriggs burst out laughing.
Yamato and a few of the others gave a little chuckle at that.
Before anyone could continue, a knock came from the steel door.
"Enter," Davis called, before the door unlocked and swung open with a screech, allowing the same officer from earlier to step in.
"Apologies for interrupting sir," she said, "But we've just received a transmission from Captain Sisko. The Defiant has been fired upon. The squadron has engaged the enemy."
Engaged
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
The roar of rockets filled the air as two more geysers plastered the bridge windows with green seawater.
"Report!" Captain Sisko yelled over the blaring alarms.
"Combat reports two more projectiles inbound sir!" an officer replied with the same volume, "Turret crews reporting in, guns online and ready for firing solution!"
"Mr. Rozhenko, weapons free!" Sisko ordered into the sound-powered phone, "Sink the bastards!"
"With pleasure," came the reply, a warrior's grin spread across the Russian's face before he turned back to the weapons table down in the CIC, "Turrets One and Two, Target 05, Coordinate Grid 15 North, 17 West, Elevation: 39 Degrees. Turrets Three and Four, Target 02, Coordinates 14 North, 17 West, Same Elevation! Mahk-cha!"
The bridge jolted as one of the rockets finally made contact with the hull, throwing everyone off balance for a second. As Sisko got back on his feet, the massive triple turrets outside the windows started to take aim.
"Dax, adjust course Port 15 degrees, let's give the guns a better firing angle!" he bellowed.
"Aye sir!" the helm officer replied, right before another rocket struck the ship.
This time, shrapnel flew through the bridge as the wall near the radio station, and the station itself, ceased to exist.
Officers and sailors laid scattered across the deck as a fire raged around the ruined bulkheads and the ship shuddered from the concussion of the guns opening up.
"Bridge to Engineering," Sisko said into a phone through clenched teeth, "O'Brien, get a damage control team up here now!"
He slipped back onto the floor, red blood dripping down the burnt piece of bulkhead stuck in his calf.
"Captain!" a voice called, bringing his fading vision back into some focus, "Odo, get Bashir up here with a medical team! Ensign, find a medical kit, we need to treat some of these injuries before they bleed out!"
"Major?" Sisko asked, mind swirling.
"Yes, Captain?" the blurred form of the Defiant's Marine commander was there, "What are your orders?"
"Major Kira……. You're…. In Command," Sisko said through the fog, "Get. This. Ship. Home.
Everything faded to black, with the bassy cracks of Defiant's guns echoing through the void.
"How is he?" a southern accent sliced through the static.
"Captain Sisko lost a great deal of blood sir," another voice, one that was calm and vaguely British, said, "but he should make a full recovery."
"And what of the squadron?" the first voice asked.
"Defiant is pretty knackered," a thick Irish voice responded, "But she bore most of the fire, sir. We're looking at serious dock time to get her back up to combat ready. The cruisers should be ready for combat soon, if the repair ships do their jobs right."
"Damn it to hell!" the southerner exclaimed, "We're already reduced in speed from the Marine convoy, now we're down a combat squadron! Let me know…"
The rest of the conversation drifted back into the static as the darkness consumed Sisko again.
"Report!" Captain Sisko yelled over the blaring alarms.
"Combat reports two more projectiles inbound sir!" an officer replied with the same volume, "Turret crews reporting in, guns online and ready for firing solution!"
"Mr. Rozhenko, weapons free!" Sisko ordered into the sound-powered phone, "Sink the bastards!"
"With pleasure," came the reply, a warrior's grin spread across the Russian's face before he turned back to the weapons table down in the CIC, "Turrets One and Two, Target 05, Coordinate Grid 15 North, 17 West, Elevation: 39 Degrees. Turrets Three and Four, Target 02, Coordinates 14 North, 17 West, Same Elevation! Mahk-cha!"
The bridge jolted as one of the rockets finally made contact with the hull, throwing everyone off balance for a second. As Sisko got back on his feet, the massive triple turrets outside the windows started to take aim.
"Dax, adjust course Port 15 degrees, let's give the guns a better firing angle!" he bellowed.
"Aye sir!" the helm officer replied, right before another rocket struck the ship.
This time, shrapnel flew through the bridge as the wall near the radio station, and the station itself, ceased to exist.
Officers and sailors laid scattered across the deck as a fire raged around the ruined bulkheads and the ship shuddered from the concussion of the guns opening up.
"Bridge to Engineering," Sisko said into a phone through clenched teeth, "O'Brien, get a damage control team up here now!"
He slipped back onto the floor, red blood dripping down the burnt piece of bulkhead stuck in his calf.
"Captain!" a voice called, bringing his fading vision back into some focus, "Odo, get Bashir up here with a medical team! Ensign, find a medical kit, we need to treat some of these injuries before they bleed out!"
"Major?" Sisko asked, mind swirling.
"Yes, Captain?" the blurred form of the Defiant's Marine commander was there, "What are your orders?"
"Major Kira……. You're…. In Command," Sisko said through the fog, "Get. This. Ship. Home.
Everything faded to black, with the bassy cracks of Defiant's guns echoing through the void.
"How is he?" a southern accent sliced through the static.
"Captain Sisko lost a great deal of blood sir," another voice, one that was calm and vaguely British, said, "but he should make a full recovery."
"And what of the squadron?" the first voice asked.
"Defiant is pretty knackered," a thick Irish voice responded, "But she bore most of the fire, sir. We're looking at serious dock time to get her back up to combat ready. The cruisers should be ready for combat soon, if the repair ships do their jobs right."
"Damn it to hell!" the southerner exclaimed, "We're already reduced in speed from the Marine convoy, now we're down a combat squadron! Let me know…"
The rest of the conversation drifted back into the static as the darkness consumed Sisko again.
Engaged pt. 2
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
Kaga fumed with indignation. How dare that battleship tell her what to do? She was a part of the First Carrier Division, the Terror of the Pacific. A transmission interrupted her thoughts.
"Kirishima to Kaga, there seems to be a squadron of ships breaking off from the American fleet. Judging by the wakes, they're in an awful hurry to go somewhere."
"Thank you," Kaga snapped.
"Ok…" her radio chittered, "Just thought I'd let you know, in case you wanted to take a peak to fuel your brooding or whatever that cloud of smoke over there is. You overheating again?"
Kaga growled as she shut off her radio with a precise click. Closing her eyes, she peered over the vast ocean below through her pilot. Pushing the Zero to its limits, a trio of wakes came into view between the clouds. One large and two smaller ones flanking it. Even in the dim light coming off the surf, the ships stood out. The two smaller ships, painted in navy blue and dark grey, had certainly seen better days. Their hulls were spotted and warped by burns and bare steel, decks a patchwork of raw wood in the middle of ship shaped oceans. The larger ship, a battleship Kaga thought, was a bit more well off. Its long, fine, curved bow painted white with swooping curves of various blues and black but even here, the scars were visible, if only slightly. Chunks of fresh or fresher wood scattered about the ship's upper works, nearly blending into the darker, aged planks covering the majority of the fat bodied vessel. The superstructures of all three vessels were stark grey, bedazzled with anti-aircraft guns, radios and radar arrays. Pitch black smoke streamed behind them as the squadron pushed its way through the sea, turbines screaming loudly, even to the pilot's ears high above. Kaga however wasn't able to follow for long as the whistling growl of a pair of approaching Corsairs drove her off. As the Zero flew a lazy arc back to its squadron, Kaga watched the three ships vanish once again under the clouds.
Defiant cracked her knuckles. Oh how long had she waited to sink her teeth into a new target. Grinning from ear to ear, she could hear and feel her crew rushing around inside her hull with pre-battle adrenaline. In the turret beneath her feet, she could feel the shells slamming home inside her guns, four thousand pounds of pure hellfire itching to fly. She edged her turbines further, four targets bright on her radar. The battleship smirked, knowing down below her chief engineer was cursing up a storm every time she gained another knot past the red line. She jumped off the top of her turret and ran over to the railing to see how her cruisers were doing.
"Hey Burlington! You doing alright back there?" she yelled.
She could barely make out the Des Moines class struggling to keep up through the spray.
"Y… Yes," the cruiser panted, her face redder than the stripes below her bridge windows.
"D," the other cruiser called from across her beam, "Might be a good idea to take it easy. Props are starting to cavitate over here, can't imagine what Burlington's are doing at this speed."
Defiant hopped back onto her turret, quickly crossing over to the other side of her hull to respond to the Alaska class, but she didn't have the time. Two… things came roaring out of the clouds trailing flames as they drew closer. With the sound of ripping and warping metal, they hit. Defiant rocked with the impact, acrid smoke pouring from her port side.
"D!" Burlington screamed, looking like she'd just off her own deck if they were able.
"I'm fine," Defiant winced, "It was just a glancing blow. Decapping plate took the brunt of it."
The battleship's blood ran red hot as she got back on her feet, ignoring the increasingly warm and damp feeling on her side as well as the reports of flooding deep in her engineering decks.
"Let's get these bastards," Rico growled as her twelve-inch guns started to raise for a firing pattern.
Two more rockets roared through the clouds, missing Burlington by inches as the smaller cruiser cut speed and cut behind the battleship. The geysers they created towered higher than anything the three had ever seen.
"Shit!" exclaimed Rico.
Before anyone could reply, a swarm of the infernal things came out of the clouds, cutting through the air like knives, diving on their targets.
"Enough of this," Defiant growled as her cruisers both took hits, "Stand by all batteries, and burn out the turbines!"
The battleship surged forwards, flames billowing out from a hole in her side as another rocket slammed into her, nearly taking down her forward tower. Swinging her stern to port, Defiant could feel her ballistic computers buried deep within her hull ticking over, calculating the deadly blow she wanted so desperately to give.
"Come on," she grimaced as a line of blood trickled down the side of her face.
Four more rockets lit up on Defiant's anti-aircraft radar. Two of them swung around towards her, with the other two skimming the surface until blowing a hole right through Burlington's bow. Cutting off her radio so she couldn't hear the screams of her squadron, the battleship plowed on through the storm the rockets generated as they plunged into the waves. She could feel the computers starting to slow, just a few more seconds. Down below, her weapons officer unlocked her turrets, starting them swinging out towards her starboard side as Defiant listed over. Another impact on her belt blew out the secondary battery power grid and threw her crew around. These were heavier ordinance coming in, Defiant thought. Her captain ordered a turn to port, just enough to open up the firing arcs for her rear turrets. The ticking of the fire control computers stopped, they'd locked on target. She had them in her sights. Defiant's guns came to a stop with a clunk, bores pointed to the heavens. She never saw the rocket as it wrecked the starboard anti-aircraft mounts set behind the bridge. The long, white, finned tube burrowed into the lower of the two Bofors guns before turning into a ball of fire which consumed them both. The shrapnel shredded one of her ears as she cried out in pain, slicing away skin and cartilage alike. Defiant got back to her feet, ignoring the ringing in her last remaining ear and the silence from the other. She felt… cold and her brain was all fuzzy. Defiant gasped and turned to look at the bridge. Blood spattered the windows and smoke poured out everywhere.
"Oh no," she gasped, willing herself inside the wreckage.
Sailors and officers were strewn about the structure, some moaning or yelling in pain. Others were not so lucky. The radio station was a complete mess of wires and wet meat, the last remains of the petty officer who was on duty.
"Bridge to Engineering," a raspy voice whispered, "O'Brien, get a damage control team up here now!"
Defiant stepped through the door to her conning tower just as her captain slumped to the deck, leaving a trail of blood trickling down the armor plate. The battleship saw red, clenching her fists as she returned to her usual spot on Turret One's roof. With an almighty roar ripping itself from her throat, Defiant let loose. Twelve eighteen inch fifty-five calibre guns went off at once, flame and ash erupting from the already blackened muzzles. Almost immediately, the guns dropped like stones to their loading angles, ejecting the brass sheath that kept the powder in place before another shell and powder combination slammed home with malice. Defiant tracked her shells' paths through the atmosphere, each one glowing brightly on her radar screens. Just as the first shells splashed into the ocean around their targets, her guns were ready once more. This time, the battleship drew blood. Both her gunnery officer and herself broke into a feral grin.
"Bingo"
The word escaped from her lips as the turret beneath her shook with the recoil from the long guns. Smoke wafted over the horizon as the tops of the ships peaked over. Using her main rangefinder, Defiant took a closer look at her targets. Four grey hulls, with black squares near their bows, topped with heavily angular bridge towers covering the entire width of the ship, above which waved red flags. One of the ships bore the telltale smoke of a shell hit, its bridge tower a blackened mess, but still all four advanced onwards. As she watched, her third salvo landed. Red geysers sprouted up all around the enemy vessels. Ten splashes. The previously hit ship wasn't going to be lucky the second time around. Explosions shattered the damaged hull, throwing chunks and shrapnel into the air.
"Hah!" Defiant yelled, "Take that, damned commies."
The other ships broke away from the flaming wreckage, spreading out across the horizon. Defiant cursed as she desynced her gunnery computers, handing her gunnery officer control of her rear turrets. The turret crews went into overdrive, sending round after round down range as the combatants closed. Soon, small rounds started to plink off the battleship's armor, turrets, and deck, some detonating on unarmored gun mounts and the superstructure. Just as Turret Four gutted another enemy ship, all three shells striking amidships, the secondary battery gunnery computers locked on.
Ten twin six inch mounts trained towards target, and all hell broke loose. Just as her secondary batteries finished aiming, six geysers erupted along the battleship's side. Below decks, water poured into her engineering decks, ripping cabling and equipment off the bulkheads. Defiant lie on the turret roof, blood and oil pooling out onto the steel from the gaping hole around her now exposed ribs. With a rattling breath, she staggered to her feet and pulled her pistol out from its holster.
"Just fucking die already," she gasped, pulling the trigger.
Nothing happened. What was supposed to have been all of her guns going off at once was nothing but a few clunks deep within her hull as watertight doors reseated themselves and slammed back shut as the power grid failed. She looked at her pistol before pulling the trigger repeatedly.
"God fucking damnit," the battleship said, her pistol dropping to the steel plate below as she was consumed by darkness.
Burlington watched as the torpedoes made contact with Defiant. The large battleship visibly buckled and heaved upwards as the geysers rained down. Puerto Rico gave a shout from her port side as the Alaska class let loose with her remaining guns. The large cruiser cut in front of Burlington as she turned to port to finally bring her guns to bear.
"All batteries, load APC, standard weight. Set fuse for maximum armor penetration. Range, twenty-five thousand yards," the heavy cruiser stated, her gunnery officer matching her word for word, "Ranging shots, three gun salvos. Set interval at 2 seconds. Fire when ready."
Her Mark 16 guns, the undisputed pride of the Bureau of Ordinance, quickly trained on target. With a sharp crack, they went off as Burlington turned her attention back to Defiant as she guided her crew towards the stricken battleship. She had settled lower in the water, listing to starboard with fires blazing across her structure.
"Hang in there D," she whispered as her propellers bit into the surf, dragging her stern down.
Seventy-five Hundred Yards, a voice in her head told her.
Her bow slammed through another wave, forcing her to grab the flagpole mounted on her prow in order to keep her balance. Behind her, used powder casings fell to the deck from the discharge ports in her turrets with a multitude of clangs. Orange spray gushed around the nearest enemy ship as Burlington's guns sent their fifth salvo into the air.
"Rico," Burlington yelled over the battle, "I'll head to cover D. Open up the range between us and give them something more important to shoot at."
The radio gave a staticky click in return as the Alaska class, her own deck and superstructure burning in a few places, quickly heaved over and started to sail away from the heavy cruiser.
Five Thousand Yards, the voice purred to Burlington, Let's hope that reckless bastard Sisko is still alive. Quite hard to strangle a dead man.
"Oh shut up," she shot back.
Quickly closing on Defiant, the cruiser noticed the ocean near where the torpedoes had struck arcing with electricity.
"God damn, they tore open her mains," she gasped.
Turning back towards the enemy ships, both of which had taken hits from the two cruisers, Burlington gave her crew new orders, "Destroy the bitches, all weapons free."
Chief Engineer Miles O'Brien splashed through the water lapping around the boilers, the compartment lit up by the red emergency lamps.
"Damn ship," he cursed, "I just got the thing fixed!"
"Chief," a voice called out from the propped open doorway.
"Odo," O'Brien snapped, "Thank God you're here. Just what the hell is Captain Sisko thinking? I've…"
"Chief," the Marine interrupted, "the Captain's near death. Julien's taken him down to the medical ward. Kira's in command. She wants to know the ship's status."
"Well, no offence to the good Major, Captain," O'Brien started, "But she picked a lousy time to send you down."
The pair waded their way into another compartment, this one having a map of the ship's watertight bulkheads on the wall, several having a bright red light next to them.
"Let me give you the bad news all at once. We have hull breaches on both sides of the ship. The port side breaches are minor and have been mostly sealed, but we have at least four major breaches along the starboard side, with the bilge and half of Deck One flooded. As you can tell here…"
The Chief gestured to the nearly knee deep water they both were standing in.
"Deck Two isn't much better. With the mains offline, we had to shut down the turbines to prevent damage. Which means no propulsion, no weapons, and no pumps besides the portables. Now, some good news. We've managed to keep the boilers burning, so we can restart the turbines when Walters' team finishes crosswiring the main and secondary circuits."
Odo gave a hrmpf before asking another question, "Will we be able to get the guns back in operation?"
"You can choose either the pumps or the guns. I can't even guarantee that the makeshift repairs would even hold up if the turbines are spun up to full power. Now, if you can accept that, I can free up a team to go release hydraulic pressure in the turrets so they can be hand operated, but only after we get the pumps running. They'd only be able to do a turret at the time so combat capacity will not be returned instantly."
"Very well Chief," Odo sighed before starting back out the door.
"Oh, Captain ," O'Brien called, "Send the damage control team you have on the bridge to one of the starboard secondary mounts. At least you can have one gun for now."
The Marine nodded before disappearing. O'Brien turned to his staff, "Next time Nanook of the North shows up, let me know before he decides to wander around my engine rooms. Alright, back to work. Plenty of repairs to be made."
Outside, Defiant groaned as the world and pain came flooding back in. With a rattling breath, she slowly sat up, still dazed. The sound of gunfire echoed through the fog in her head. Slowly turning her head, Defiant saw Burlington, guns aflame as the Des Moines class maneuvered to shield her from the enemy. Deep within her hull, she could feel the heat of her boilers burning just feet away from the cold water swamping her lower decks. Slowly struggling to her feet, Defiant willed herself down to Deck One. Immediately, Defiant was nearly shoulder deep in seawater, which bit into her wounds. Clenching her mouth shut to prevent a scream, the battleship started to walk through the compartments, noting the damage. Several had been ripped open from what looked to be an explosion around the base of her starboard torpedo bulkheads, nearly completely bypassing her defenses. Oil also floated in blobs on top of the water, must've ruptured some of the tanks. Wires and pipes lie torn and contorted about the compartments, some sparks still lashing out from those cables that still rested in their mountings. As she passed through another bulkhead, orange light was visible through tears and cracks in the opposite wall. Before she could investigate, the door between the compartments started to unlock before jamming, which was followed by several large bangs. Voices could be heard from the other side as Defiant stood, listening. After a few yells, sparks shot out from the door, melting the locking mechanism. The door was slowly pushed open to reveal a damage control team, armed with blowtorches and portable welders.
"Alright," one of the men said, his voice echoing in the space, "we should be able to get to the forward junction box in here. Hopefully, repairs aren't too bad. Chief's wanting a circuit online to start getting this mess cleaned up."
The man talking turned towards the now opened door, shining a handheld lantern into Defiant's compartment as one of the men behind him continued to repair some of the cables on the wall. His eyes widened before slapping another member of the team.
"Oil!" he shouted, "We've got fuel oil over here!"
All six of them froze.
"Alright," the man said, his Lieutenant ranks now visible in the handheld lights, "Here's what we'll do. Jansen, you, Williams, Probert, and Roddenberry finished repairs here. Armes and I will go into the next compartment and work on the distribution panel. Keep the hatch closed until you're finished. We don't want to cause another fire on top of the dozen already burning."
"Any word on what Chief's going to do about those yet?" one of the men asked as the Lieutenant and another man stepped through the door portal.
"Andy," another one said, "Let's worry about the matter at hand first before Chief gets on us again."
The crew quickly got to work on both sides of the ruined bulkhead, interrupted every so often by another impact rocking Defiant's hull. The battleship watched on for a while until she felt her turbines start back up, with the remaining lights in the compartment slowly turning back on.
Returning quickly back up to her usual perch on Turret Two, Defiant's anger quickly returned. Her blood boiling as her memories of the battle finally returned. Quickly grabbing her pistol where it lay in a puddle of congealed oil and blood, she aimed it at one of the enemy ships. Pulling the trigger, the gun finally fired, with one of her secondary turrets following in kind.
"About time," she coughed before resetting the trigger and firing again.
The turret went off again, but this time, Defiant couldn't reset the trigger.
"No!" she shouted, banging the 1911 against the Bofors mount at the rear of the turret roof, "No! No! No, No, No!"
One of the remaining enemy ships exploding caught her attention. Turning back to the battle, she watched Burlington and Puerto Rico surrounding the wreckage and the last enemy ship, throwing shells into both with reckless abandon.
No! Those were her kills, God damnit!
Trying her pistol again, Defiant pulled back the slide and let it slam back forward. To her surprise, the 1911 went into battery.
"I'm going to take this thing apart when we get back to port," she growled as she lifted the weapon and took aim.
This time when she pulled the trigger, the massive eighteen-inch Mark B guns went off below her, sending three shells hurtling towards the target. While narrowly missing Rico's funnels, the shells tore through the air, steel, and sea as they somehow managed to hit on target.
The ship staggered as Defiant's shells burrowed clean through. Burlington could see her and her crew alike get thrown about the deck as the rounds hit. The enemy ship's face wore a mirror expression to her own. Cold, concentrated fury spread across her Asian features as her crew started to throw life rafts overboard, the single turret on her bow continuing to fire away. Burlington watched on as the Asian ship slowly slipped beneath the waves, not once breaking eye contact. The heavy cruiser looked towards her squadron-mate and nodded. No survivors. Fleet security after all.
The sea air had gotten bitterly cold by the time the dinner group aboard the American flagship stepped back out onto the main deck. Yamato shivered as she looked up at the night sky, the rest of the group still laughing and chattering away. Suddenly, the air got warm as the superstructure was painted in an orange glow. Yamato turned around as everyone went silent. There, sailing past with flames still burning through holes in its hull, was one of the American battleships followed by two cruisers, both of them lit only by the flames of their leader.
"Defiant," the Admiral stated from Yamato's left.
The super-battleship glanced at the Admiral, his expression a brick wall. Yamato noticed a figure standing on top of the third turret, right in front of the bridge. Its appearance was hard to determine, but she could make out the tarnished and burnt dress white uniform the figure wore as well as the hair left short and unkempt moving in the wind underneath a Stetson pulled low.
"My God," Kongou gasped as the Defiant slowly limped past.
The Admiral muttered something just as Yamato turned back towards the group.
"I do apologize," he said, "but there's something I must attend to."
He gave a short nod before heading back inside the hatch, followed by his aide.
Admiral Davis stepped through the door leading towards Defiant's medical ward followed by Major Kira and Chief O'Brien.
"So, besides Ben, how many did y'all lose?" he asked as the trio navigated the messy corridor.
"Ninety-seven casualties sir," the Major said, "Forty-eight dead, the rest wounded, several serious like the captain."
"Not to mention, fifteen on the Burlington from various hits, and fifty on Puerto Rico when enemy ordinance gutted Turret Two," O'Brien added.
"And what of the prisoner?"
"We found his raft caught on some twisted hull plating along Puerto Rico's side. Captain deSoto nearly shot him then and there before his XO convinced him otherwise," Major Kira explained.
"Have we discovered his nationality yet?" the Admiral questioned, "Actually, it doesn't matter. He'll prove useful as an informant on the current tactical situation of the local area. Have deSoto transfer the prisoner to the flagship."
"Aye sir," O'Brien responded.
"Now let's have a look at that damage you were telling me about Chief," he continued as the trio made their way through the damaged battleship.
The door to the cold metal room opened with a screech as Admiral Davis stepped through, staring daggers at the man sitting in restraints at the table.
"I am Admiral Davis," he said to the officer, "You are on board my flagship, battleship USS Texas. I don't know if you can understand me, nor do I care. There are two options going forward. One, you tell me everything I want to know and we'll set you up in guest quarters where you'll stay confined but get three meals a day, a warm bed, and a ticket off next time we make port. The other? We extract the information we want by force, put you back out on that life raft with a day's worth of rations and let nature take its course. I'm sure these Abyssals we've heard about would love to have a go at you. Either way, we will get what we want."
The prisoner scowled before spitting at the Admiral and speaking in heavily accented English, "Go to hell, American pig!"
"So be it," Davis replied before turning around and walking out the door.
"That went well," Connors joked as the hatch slammed shut.
The Admiral paused, his head slightly cocked.
"Connors," he ordered, "Extract the information by any and all means at hand."
"Sir?" Connors asked.
"When you're done," Davis continued, "dispose of the body."
"Yes Sir," Connors responded, "And if the Japs find out?"
"The fleet will handle them. We've been needing some more target practice."
"Kirishima to Kaga, there seems to be a squadron of ships breaking off from the American fleet. Judging by the wakes, they're in an awful hurry to go somewhere."
"Thank you," Kaga snapped.
"Ok…" her radio chittered, "Just thought I'd let you know, in case you wanted to take a peak to fuel your brooding or whatever that cloud of smoke over there is. You overheating again?"
Kaga growled as she shut off her radio with a precise click. Closing her eyes, she peered over the vast ocean below through her pilot. Pushing the Zero to its limits, a trio of wakes came into view between the clouds. One large and two smaller ones flanking it. Even in the dim light coming off the surf, the ships stood out. The two smaller ships, painted in navy blue and dark grey, had certainly seen better days. Their hulls were spotted and warped by burns and bare steel, decks a patchwork of raw wood in the middle of ship shaped oceans. The larger ship, a battleship Kaga thought, was a bit more well off. Its long, fine, curved bow painted white with swooping curves of various blues and black but even here, the scars were visible, if only slightly. Chunks of fresh or fresher wood scattered about the ship's upper works, nearly blending into the darker, aged planks covering the majority of the fat bodied vessel. The superstructures of all three vessels were stark grey, bedazzled with anti-aircraft guns, radios and radar arrays. Pitch black smoke streamed behind them as the squadron pushed its way through the sea, turbines screaming loudly, even to the pilot's ears high above. Kaga however wasn't able to follow for long as the whistling growl of a pair of approaching Corsairs drove her off. As the Zero flew a lazy arc back to its squadron, Kaga watched the three ships vanish once again under the clouds.
Defiant cracked her knuckles. Oh how long had she waited to sink her teeth into a new target. Grinning from ear to ear, she could hear and feel her crew rushing around inside her hull with pre-battle adrenaline. In the turret beneath her feet, she could feel the shells slamming home inside her guns, four thousand pounds of pure hellfire itching to fly. She edged her turbines further, four targets bright on her radar. The battleship smirked, knowing down below her chief engineer was cursing up a storm every time she gained another knot past the red line. She jumped off the top of her turret and ran over to the railing to see how her cruisers were doing.
"Hey Burlington! You doing alright back there?" she yelled.
She could barely make out the Des Moines class struggling to keep up through the spray.
"Y… Yes," the cruiser panted, her face redder than the stripes below her bridge windows.
"D," the other cruiser called from across her beam, "Might be a good idea to take it easy. Props are starting to cavitate over here, can't imagine what Burlington's are doing at this speed."
Defiant hopped back onto her turret, quickly crossing over to the other side of her hull to respond to the Alaska class, but she didn't have the time. Two… things came roaring out of the clouds trailing flames as they drew closer. With the sound of ripping and warping metal, they hit. Defiant rocked with the impact, acrid smoke pouring from her port side.
"D!" Burlington screamed, looking like she'd just off her own deck if they were able.
"I'm fine," Defiant winced, "It was just a glancing blow. Decapping plate took the brunt of it."
The battleship's blood ran red hot as she got back on her feet, ignoring the increasingly warm and damp feeling on her side as well as the reports of flooding deep in her engineering decks.
"Let's get these bastards," Rico growled as her twelve-inch guns started to raise for a firing pattern.
Two more rockets roared through the clouds, missing Burlington by inches as the smaller cruiser cut speed and cut behind the battleship. The geysers they created towered higher than anything the three had ever seen.
"Shit!" exclaimed Rico.
Before anyone could reply, a swarm of the infernal things came out of the clouds, cutting through the air like knives, diving on their targets.
"Enough of this," Defiant growled as her cruisers both took hits, "Stand by all batteries, and burn out the turbines!"
The battleship surged forwards, flames billowing out from a hole in her side as another rocket slammed into her, nearly taking down her forward tower. Swinging her stern to port, Defiant could feel her ballistic computers buried deep within her hull ticking over, calculating the deadly blow she wanted so desperately to give.
"Come on," she grimaced as a line of blood trickled down the side of her face.
Four more rockets lit up on Defiant's anti-aircraft radar. Two of them swung around towards her, with the other two skimming the surface until blowing a hole right through Burlington's bow. Cutting off her radio so she couldn't hear the screams of her squadron, the battleship plowed on through the storm the rockets generated as they plunged into the waves. She could feel the computers starting to slow, just a few more seconds. Down below, her weapons officer unlocked her turrets, starting them swinging out towards her starboard side as Defiant listed over. Another impact on her belt blew out the secondary battery power grid and threw her crew around. These were heavier ordinance coming in, Defiant thought. Her captain ordered a turn to port, just enough to open up the firing arcs for her rear turrets. The ticking of the fire control computers stopped, they'd locked on target. She had them in her sights. Defiant's guns came to a stop with a clunk, bores pointed to the heavens. She never saw the rocket as it wrecked the starboard anti-aircraft mounts set behind the bridge. The long, white, finned tube burrowed into the lower of the two Bofors guns before turning into a ball of fire which consumed them both. The shrapnel shredded one of her ears as she cried out in pain, slicing away skin and cartilage alike. Defiant got back to her feet, ignoring the ringing in her last remaining ear and the silence from the other. She felt… cold and her brain was all fuzzy. Defiant gasped and turned to look at the bridge. Blood spattered the windows and smoke poured out everywhere.
"Oh no," she gasped, willing herself inside the wreckage.
Sailors and officers were strewn about the structure, some moaning or yelling in pain. Others were not so lucky. The radio station was a complete mess of wires and wet meat, the last remains of the petty officer who was on duty.
"Bridge to Engineering," a raspy voice whispered, "O'Brien, get a damage control team up here now!"
Defiant stepped through the door to her conning tower just as her captain slumped to the deck, leaving a trail of blood trickling down the armor plate. The battleship saw red, clenching her fists as she returned to her usual spot on Turret One's roof. With an almighty roar ripping itself from her throat, Defiant let loose. Twelve eighteen inch fifty-five calibre guns went off at once, flame and ash erupting from the already blackened muzzles. Almost immediately, the guns dropped like stones to their loading angles, ejecting the brass sheath that kept the powder in place before another shell and powder combination slammed home with malice. Defiant tracked her shells' paths through the atmosphere, each one glowing brightly on her radar screens. Just as the first shells splashed into the ocean around their targets, her guns were ready once more. This time, the battleship drew blood. Both her gunnery officer and herself broke into a feral grin.
"Bingo"
The word escaped from her lips as the turret beneath her shook with the recoil from the long guns. Smoke wafted over the horizon as the tops of the ships peaked over. Using her main rangefinder, Defiant took a closer look at her targets. Four grey hulls, with black squares near their bows, topped with heavily angular bridge towers covering the entire width of the ship, above which waved red flags. One of the ships bore the telltale smoke of a shell hit, its bridge tower a blackened mess, but still all four advanced onwards. As she watched, her third salvo landed. Red geysers sprouted up all around the enemy vessels. Ten splashes. The previously hit ship wasn't going to be lucky the second time around. Explosions shattered the damaged hull, throwing chunks and shrapnel into the air.
"Hah!" Defiant yelled, "Take that, damned commies."
The other ships broke away from the flaming wreckage, spreading out across the horizon. Defiant cursed as she desynced her gunnery computers, handing her gunnery officer control of her rear turrets. The turret crews went into overdrive, sending round after round down range as the combatants closed. Soon, small rounds started to plink off the battleship's armor, turrets, and deck, some detonating on unarmored gun mounts and the superstructure. Just as Turret Four gutted another enemy ship, all three shells striking amidships, the secondary battery gunnery computers locked on.
Ten twin six inch mounts trained towards target, and all hell broke loose. Just as her secondary batteries finished aiming, six geysers erupted along the battleship's side. Below decks, water poured into her engineering decks, ripping cabling and equipment off the bulkheads. Defiant lie on the turret roof, blood and oil pooling out onto the steel from the gaping hole around her now exposed ribs. With a rattling breath, she staggered to her feet and pulled her pistol out from its holster.
"Just fucking die already," she gasped, pulling the trigger.
Nothing happened. What was supposed to have been all of her guns going off at once was nothing but a few clunks deep within her hull as watertight doors reseated themselves and slammed back shut as the power grid failed. She looked at her pistol before pulling the trigger repeatedly.
"God fucking damnit," the battleship said, her pistol dropping to the steel plate below as she was consumed by darkness.
Burlington watched as the torpedoes made contact with Defiant. The large battleship visibly buckled and heaved upwards as the geysers rained down. Puerto Rico gave a shout from her port side as the Alaska class let loose with her remaining guns. The large cruiser cut in front of Burlington as she turned to port to finally bring her guns to bear.
"All batteries, load APC, standard weight. Set fuse for maximum armor penetration. Range, twenty-five thousand yards," the heavy cruiser stated, her gunnery officer matching her word for word, "Ranging shots, three gun salvos. Set interval at 2 seconds. Fire when ready."
Her Mark 16 guns, the undisputed pride of the Bureau of Ordinance, quickly trained on target. With a sharp crack, they went off as Burlington turned her attention back to Defiant as she guided her crew towards the stricken battleship. She had settled lower in the water, listing to starboard with fires blazing across her structure.
"Hang in there D," she whispered as her propellers bit into the surf, dragging her stern down.
Seventy-five Hundred Yards, a voice in her head told her.
Her bow slammed through another wave, forcing her to grab the flagpole mounted on her prow in order to keep her balance. Behind her, used powder casings fell to the deck from the discharge ports in her turrets with a multitude of clangs. Orange spray gushed around the nearest enemy ship as Burlington's guns sent their fifth salvo into the air.
"Rico," Burlington yelled over the battle, "I'll head to cover D. Open up the range between us and give them something more important to shoot at."
The radio gave a staticky click in return as the Alaska class, her own deck and superstructure burning in a few places, quickly heaved over and started to sail away from the heavy cruiser.
Five Thousand Yards, the voice purred to Burlington, Let's hope that reckless bastard Sisko is still alive. Quite hard to strangle a dead man.
"Oh shut up," she shot back.
Quickly closing on Defiant, the cruiser noticed the ocean near where the torpedoes had struck arcing with electricity.
"God damn, they tore open her mains," she gasped.
Turning back towards the enemy ships, both of which had taken hits from the two cruisers, Burlington gave her crew new orders, "Destroy the bitches, all weapons free."
Chief Engineer Miles O'Brien splashed through the water lapping around the boilers, the compartment lit up by the red emergency lamps.
"Damn ship," he cursed, "I just got the thing fixed!"
"Chief," a voice called out from the propped open doorway.
"Odo," O'Brien snapped, "Thank God you're here. Just what the hell is Captain Sisko thinking? I've…"
"Chief," the Marine interrupted, "the Captain's near death. Julien's taken him down to the medical ward. Kira's in command. She wants to know the ship's status."
"Well, no offence to the good Major, Captain," O'Brien started, "But she picked a lousy time to send you down."
The pair waded their way into another compartment, this one having a map of the ship's watertight bulkheads on the wall, several having a bright red light next to them.
"Let me give you the bad news all at once. We have hull breaches on both sides of the ship. The port side breaches are minor and have been mostly sealed, but we have at least four major breaches along the starboard side, with the bilge and half of Deck One flooded. As you can tell here…"
The Chief gestured to the nearly knee deep water they both were standing in.
"Deck Two isn't much better. With the mains offline, we had to shut down the turbines to prevent damage. Which means no propulsion, no weapons, and no pumps besides the portables. Now, some good news. We've managed to keep the boilers burning, so we can restart the turbines when Walters' team finishes crosswiring the main and secondary circuits."
Odo gave a hrmpf before asking another question, "Will we be able to get the guns back in operation?"
"You can choose either the pumps or the guns. I can't even guarantee that the makeshift repairs would even hold up if the turbines are spun up to full power. Now, if you can accept that, I can free up a team to go release hydraulic pressure in the turrets so they can be hand operated, but only after we get the pumps running. They'd only be able to do a turret at the time so combat capacity will not be returned instantly."
"Very well Chief," Odo sighed before starting back out the door.
"Oh, Captain ," O'Brien called, "Send the damage control team you have on the bridge to one of the starboard secondary mounts. At least you can have one gun for now."
The Marine nodded before disappearing. O'Brien turned to his staff, "Next time Nanook of the North shows up, let me know before he decides to wander around my engine rooms. Alright, back to work. Plenty of repairs to be made."
Outside, Defiant groaned as the world and pain came flooding back in. With a rattling breath, she slowly sat up, still dazed. The sound of gunfire echoed through the fog in her head. Slowly turning her head, Defiant saw Burlington, guns aflame as the Des Moines class maneuvered to shield her from the enemy. Deep within her hull, she could feel the heat of her boilers burning just feet away from the cold water swamping her lower decks. Slowly struggling to her feet, Defiant willed herself down to Deck One. Immediately, Defiant was nearly shoulder deep in seawater, which bit into her wounds. Clenching her mouth shut to prevent a scream, the battleship started to walk through the compartments, noting the damage. Several had been ripped open from what looked to be an explosion around the base of her starboard torpedo bulkheads, nearly completely bypassing her defenses. Oil also floated in blobs on top of the water, must've ruptured some of the tanks. Wires and pipes lie torn and contorted about the compartments, some sparks still lashing out from those cables that still rested in their mountings. As she passed through another bulkhead, orange light was visible through tears and cracks in the opposite wall. Before she could investigate, the door between the compartments started to unlock before jamming, which was followed by several large bangs. Voices could be heard from the other side as Defiant stood, listening. After a few yells, sparks shot out from the door, melting the locking mechanism. The door was slowly pushed open to reveal a damage control team, armed with blowtorches and portable welders.
"Alright," one of the men said, his voice echoing in the space, "we should be able to get to the forward junction box in here. Hopefully, repairs aren't too bad. Chief's wanting a circuit online to start getting this mess cleaned up."
The man talking turned towards the now opened door, shining a handheld lantern into Defiant's compartment as one of the men behind him continued to repair some of the cables on the wall. His eyes widened before slapping another member of the team.
"Oil!" he shouted, "We've got fuel oil over here!"
All six of them froze.
"Alright," the man said, his Lieutenant ranks now visible in the handheld lights, "Here's what we'll do. Jansen, you, Williams, Probert, and Roddenberry finished repairs here. Armes and I will go into the next compartment and work on the distribution panel. Keep the hatch closed until you're finished. We don't want to cause another fire on top of the dozen already burning."
"Any word on what Chief's going to do about those yet?" one of the men asked as the Lieutenant and another man stepped through the door portal.
"Andy," another one said, "Let's worry about the matter at hand first before Chief gets on us again."
The crew quickly got to work on both sides of the ruined bulkhead, interrupted every so often by another impact rocking Defiant's hull. The battleship watched on for a while until she felt her turbines start back up, with the remaining lights in the compartment slowly turning back on.
Returning quickly back up to her usual perch on Turret Two, Defiant's anger quickly returned. Her blood boiling as her memories of the battle finally returned. Quickly grabbing her pistol where it lay in a puddle of congealed oil and blood, she aimed it at one of the enemy ships. Pulling the trigger, the gun finally fired, with one of her secondary turrets following in kind.
"About time," she coughed before resetting the trigger and firing again.
The turret went off again, but this time, Defiant couldn't reset the trigger.
"No!" she shouted, banging the 1911 against the Bofors mount at the rear of the turret roof, "No! No! No, No, No!"
One of the remaining enemy ships exploding caught her attention. Turning back to the battle, she watched Burlington and Puerto Rico surrounding the wreckage and the last enemy ship, throwing shells into both with reckless abandon.
No! Those were her kills, God damnit!
Trying her pistol again, Defiant pulled back the slide and let it slam back forward. To her surprise, the 1911 went into battery.
"I'm going to take this thing apart when we get back to port," she growled as she lifted the weapon and took aim.
This time when she pulled the trigger, the massive eighteen-inch Mark B guns went off below her, sending three shells hurtling towards the target. While narrowly missing Rico's funnels, the shells tore through the air, steel, and sea as they somehow managed to hit on target.
The ship staggered as Defiant's shells burrowed clean through. Burlington could see her and her crew alike get thrown about the deck as the rounds hit. The enemy ship's face wore a mirror expression to her own. Cold, concentrated fury spread across her Asian features as her crew started to throw life rafts overboard, the single turret on her bow continuing to fire away. Burlington watched on as the Asian ship slowly slipped beneath the waves, not once breaking eye contact. The heavy cruiser looked towards her squadron-mate and nodded. No survivors. Fleet security after all.
The sea air had gotten bitterly cold by the time the dinner group aboard the American flagship stepped back out onto the main deck. Yamato shivered as she looked up at the night sky, the rest of the group still laughing and chattering away. Suddenly, the air got warm as the superstructure was painted in an orange glow. Yamato turned around as everyone went silent. There, sailing past with flames still burning through holes in its hull, was one of the American battleships followed by two cruisers, both of them lit only by the flames of their leader.
"Defiant," the Admiral stated from Yamato's left.
The super-battleship glanced at the Admiral, his expression a brick wall. Yamato noticed a figure standing on top of the third turret, right in front of the bridge. Its appearance was hard to determine, but she could make out the tarnished and burnt dress white uniform the figure wore as well as the hair left short and unkempt moving in the wind underneath a Stetson pulled low.
"My God," Kongou gasped as the Defiant slowly limped past.
The Admiral muttered something just as Yamato turned back towards the group.
"I do apologize," he said, "but there's something I must attend to."
He gave a short nod before heading back inside the hatch, followed by his aide.
Admiral Davis stepped through the door leading towards Defiant's medical ward followed by Major Kira and Chief O'Brien.
"So, besides Ben, how many did y'all lose?" he asked as the trio navigated the messy corridor.
"Ninety-seven casualties sir," the Major said, "Forty-eight dead, the rest wounded, several serious like the captain."
"Not to mention, fifteen on the Burlington from various hits, and fifty on Puerto Rico when enemy ordinance gutted Turret Two," O'Brien added.
"And what of the prisoner?"
"We found his raft caught on some twisted hull plating along Puerto Rico's side. Captain deSoto nearly shot him then and there before his XO convinced him otherwise," Major Kira explained.
"Have we discovered his nationality yet?" the Admiral questioned, "Actually, it doesn't matter. He'll prove useful as an informant on the current tactical situation of the local area. Have deSoto transfer the prisoner to the flagship."
"Aye sir," O'Brien responded.
"Now let's have a look at that damage you were telling me about Chief," he continued as the trio made their way through the damaged battleship.
The door to the cold metal room opened with a screech as Admiral Davis stepped through, staring daggers at the man sitting in restraints at the table.
"I am Admiral Davis," he said to the officer, "You are on board my flagship, battleship USS Texas. I don't know if you can understand me, nor do I care. There are two options going forward. One, you tell me everything I want to know and we'll set you up in guest quarters where you'll stay confined but get three meals a day, a warm bed, and a ticket off next time we make port. The other? We extract the information we want by force, put you back out on that life raft with a day's worth of rations and let nature take its course. I'm sure these Abyssals we've heard about would love to have a go at you. Either way, we will get what we want."
The prisoner scowled before spitting at the Admiral and speaking in heavily accented English, "Go to hell, American pig!"
"So be it," Davis replied before turning around and walking out the door.
"That went well," Connors joked as the hatch slammed shut.
The Admiral paused, his head slightly cocked.
"Connors," he ordered, "Extract the information by any and all means at hand."
"Sir?" Connors asked.
"When you're done," Davis continued, "dispose of the body."
"Yes Sir," Connors responded, "And if the Japs find out?"
"The fleet will handle them. We've been needing some more target practice."
- Location
- Planet Vulcan, Beta Quadrant
That's what I tried to imply there. Especially given the location of the events in the South China Sea. Plotholes that I may have just opened(probably) aside, any other thoughts about the story so far?
- Location
- Netherlands
Well, you throw in some Alternate History moments here, so I can't comment. But at least you have the atmosphere right.
We just need a few dozen more moments of bickering and politik to make it more humans.