Prologue
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
Prologue
Alternate reality theory. A concept that would have been impossible to even many in the science-fiction community. Certainly, the world of the early 1930s- consumed as it was by the Great Depression -was far more concerned with economic difficulties than flights of fancy. The whimsical tales were a distraction from very real fears. Governments were more interested in fixing their economies or warily looking at their neighbors. The average man on the street in London or Berlin or Rome had much more concern with getting food on the table. Not in fantasy.
This, of course, all changed one bright New Years morning. To this day, those involved report nothing more than a bright light and a sense of 'wrongness' that quickly faded. When it was over, the United States of America was gone and what replaced it...
Well, what replaced it would change the world.
-Lecture on the transition, University of Oxford.
January 1st, 1932
Off New York coast
"Do you have any idea what that was?"
The command bridge on any modern battleship was always a hive of activity. Men stood at their stations, calling out to each other when something happened. And in this case, something major had just occurred. Something unexplainable to the two men standing at the bridge windows, staring out on the calm waters outside New York harbor. One second there was a brilliant flash of light...the next? The next, everything seemed normal. Civilian traffic moved towards the harbor like nothing had happened.
And yet something felt decidedly wrong.
"Louis, if I knew what that was I would be telling you," a thick Boston accent replied, the voice's owner snorting as he looked at the man beside him. "Since I don't, I can't."
"You are no help at all, Herr Johnson." Even as he said that, Louis' lips twitched.
His friend merely laughed, "Of course not, I'm no scientist! Now, what we should be asking, is what we're going to do now. Head back to port?"
A valid question. Cuba was on her shakedown cruise, and hardly fit for being out at sea after--whatever that was. On the other hand, though, there was another viewpoint to take.
"Nein," Louis shook his head, tugging at the dark fabric of his naval uniform. His bright blue eyes turned from his older friend, and out on the distant form of his own command. "I will likely return to Seydlitz shortly, myself, but not yet. I feel we should at least track down a vessel from further afield. Identify how far this event spread."
"And figure out what the hell we're going to do about it."
The German nodded, sighing softly as he did so.
What we are going to do indeed. I have never seen or heard of anything such as that flash. Was this an act of God? The French? Or even the Confederates?
With no answers forthcoming, Louis walked out onto the bridgewing. The cold air of a winter's day ruffled his pristine uniform, as the tall man held a hand over his eyes. His statuesque form looked almost like something out of a painting. His father would certainly have jumped at the chance to get an image such as this. The princely figure, standing on the bridgewing of the most modern battleship in the world. Staring out at the fleet all around him, ready to bring it to battle!
Truly a perfect chance.
"I would never live it down," Louis snorted softly and lowered his hand. The sun was behind him so there was no need to shield his sharp eyes anyway. And, for that matter, he wasn't the Captain of Cuba or even in the same navy.
Technically speaking, he wasn't even supposed to be aboard. And was restricted to the bridge. Ally or no ally.
"When I accepted this command," Captain Johnson, the true commander, spoke up once more. He had moved to lean against the exit from the bridge, raising a single blonde eyebrow at his friend. "I didn't think I'd be doing something like this."
Louis chuckled lightly, "Oh, I don't imagine anyone would expect something like this."
"Maybe one of those fancy writers. Like Verne." The American shot back, though the smirk on his face was telling.
Rolling his eyes, Louis turned away from the lean lines of the battleship. His blue gaze returned to Seydlitz, streaming smoke from her large stack. The ensign of the Kaiserliche Marine proudly fluttering from her mast. She wasn't as new as Cuba, but Louis wouldn't trade his proud battlecruiser for anything.
"Any luck with the wireless?"
That question was spoken by Louis, but both Captains were thinking much the same. If anything had happened ashore- such as troop movements -then surely it would have been sent out.
All Johnson did was shake his head, "Nothing yet. I figure everyone is about as confused as we ar---"
Before the man could finish his sentence, he was interrupted rather rudely by a member of his- untrained -crew. The young sailor was holding up a wireless report and breathlessly reporting to his Captain. Speak of the devil.
"Cap--captain," the dark-haired officer sucked in a breath, before continuing as if he was being chased by something. "We have a report of a freighter flying the Union Jack. She's broadcasting in the open, requesting that we identify ourselves. And..."
Here, the officer turned his eyes over to Louis, frowning slightly.
"...why we are in company with a ship flying the Imperial German flag. A flag that doesn't have a nation."
Louis and Johnson shared a look at that, while the younger officer stood waiting for a response. The German was confused and a fair bit worried. The American was just puzzled. Cuba was new, sure, but she shouldn't need to identify herself. She was rather distinctive.
"You know, your highness, this is probably something you should be doing from your ship." Even in this situation, though, Johnson managed to smirk at his friend.
A friend who just sighed heavily.
"Don't call me that. When we're at sea, I'm just a Captain. Not a prince."
Say that he may, but Louis Ferdinand von Hohenzollern still frowned deeply at what the British ship had said.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Staring through a spyglass, David Lewis scowled. The British sailor had seen many ships during his time at sea. He'd fought in the Great War, aboard Iron Duke. The man could say he knew his warships. And what he was seeing, was most assuredly not something he was familiar with. That damnable light had messed with his vision, certainly, but not to the point he'd lost it.
Not to mention those flags.
The larger ship flew a strange flag. Reminiscent of an American flag, but the canton was gone. Stripes or no stripes, having the stars in the center was just wrong.
Not to mention those flags.
The larger ship flew a strange flag. Reminiscent of an American flag, but the canton was gone. Stripes or no stripes, having the stars in the center was just wrong.
Not that the ship itself wasn't wrong, of course. The turrets were different, the bridge was more built up, the secondaries were wrong. It wasn't any American that he had seen before.
"That's a Hun, isn't she?"
Lewis could only sigh, "Yeah. It is."
On the other hand, the other ship was very familiar. More advanced than what he remembered, but David Lewis had seen ships like her at Scapa after the War. And her flag was very familiar. An Imperial German war ensign.
"What the bloody hell is a Hun doing out here? Didn't we take all of them away?" His helmsman was a vocal sort. One who asked questions even if he knew the answer.
Like now.
"We did," the Captain nodded absently. His eyes narrowing in thought. "She shouldn't be there, but neither should that other ship. Hm."
The little old Yorkshire was not a fast ship. She was an old tramp freighter, though Lewis was proud of having his own ship all the same. But since she was so slow, he had no real choice here. Couldn't get away from the strange battleships. No one to call for help if they were hostile. So, with nothing else to do, there was only contacting them himself. Hopefully they didn't shoot him.
He got quite enough of that to last a lifetime. Back at Jutland.
"Send a message over to the American," Lewis turned to send that order down to the wireless shack.
At least I assume she's an American...
Like now.
"We did," the Captain nodded absently. His eyes narrowing in thought. "She shouldn't be there, but neither should that other ship. Hm."
The little old Yorkshire was not a fast ship. She was an old tramp freighter, though Lewis was proud of having his own ship all the same. But since she was so slow, he had no real choice here. Couldn't get away from the strange battleships. No one to call for help if they were hostile. So, with nothing else to do, there was only contacting them himself. Hopefully they didn't shoot him.
He got quite enough of that to last a lifetime. Back at Jutland.
"Send a message over to the American," Lewis turned to send that order down to the wireless shack.
At least I assume she's an American...
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"You're not going to let them aboard, are you?" Louis turned back to Johnson, raising an eyebrow at his friend.
A snort answered that question, "Of course I'm not. You're a special guest, I'm not letting some Brits aboard the newest ship in the fleet."
Not a bad idea honestly. Especially since these Englishman didn't seem to recognize Cuba, her flag, or the fact that Seydlitz was part of the Kasierliche Marine's Asian Squadron, temporarily refitting in American yards before rebasing to the joint base at Pearl Harbor. Or rather, coming off her refit. Regardless...both ships were very recognizable. Especially with Louis' own status.
So why don't they recognize us?
Louis had no answer to that thought. None that made any sense, at the least.
"At any rate," Johnson clapped his hand down on the German's shoulder. A wide grin crossing his aged face. "I'm going to send them a message. Let them know that we're the FSS Cuba and SMS Seydlitz. Maybe that'll jog some memories?"
"Perhaps." Louis frowned, deep in thought. His fingers tapped the railing before him, a small rhythm to the movements. "What if they don't know us?"
Johnson laughed, "How couldn't they?"
That was difficult to explain. However, Louis couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. What, he couldn't say. But there was something at the edge of his senses that just seemed wrong.
"I don't know." The German finally replied, rubbing his forehead now. Frustration leaked into his words. "I don't know. If they don't recognize your flag or my ship, though, what else will they not know? The Free States? Germany? They were quite convinced when the message said that the Kaiserreich is no more."
Silence was the only answer Louis would receive.
January 1st, 1932- The United States of America vanishes in a flash of light. Religious leaders across the world declare it an act of God or their chosen diety(ies). Scientists have no counter, the very idea impossible in all measures. The 'how' of the Event may never be found. What matters is the aftermath.
New York Harbor- The British freighter Yorkshire pulls into a New York harbor devoid of the Statue of Liberty. Unfamiliar flags flew from the warships that greeted her, lead by the FSS Cuba and SMS Seydlitz. The crew of the freighter, none more so than Captain Lewis, are shocked to find out that the country they docked in was not the United States. The United States, it was claimed, had been defunct for decades. New York was the largest city of the Free States of America.
Charleston- Further to the south, a Norwegian transport pulls into dock past Fort Sumter---flying the flag of the Confederate States. Much as in the North, confusion runs rampant. The world has seemingly been turned on its head.
