Princess of Wales: A Memoir on the The Second World War and Origin of Ship Spirits (Kancolle)

[LtRainbowSlash]

AN: The following is not considered part of Wales' autobiography, nor any other in universe writing. Just a fun little glimpse into what is happening on the other side.

MAY 31 1942
1600 HOURS

"SHIIIIIGURRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!!!"

The yell could be easily heard from across the base. At least, provided one was an incorporeal Japanese ship spirit.

Kongo chuckled where she was sharing tea on her upperworks with her younger sister Haruna. The Japanese battlecruisers turned battleships were laid up in a drydock in Sasebo, side by side, still being repaired after the damage they'd taken at Java Sea.

Kongo herself was a relatively tall brunette, with her hair done up in twin buns on the sides of her head, and the rest hanging free down her back. All held up by a gold hair piece that almost resembled radio aerials. She wore a red a white offshoot of a traditional Japanese shrine priestess outfit. Her most striking feature was her face. Mirthful purple eyes were set on a face that was Japanese, yet with more than a few hints of European ancestry. Haruna wore the same outfit, but had long black hair and faintly amber eyes.

Smiling, Kongo glanced at her sister. "Looks like Yuu's back, dess."

"Shall we go say hello?" The younger asked.

The elder shrugged, "Why not?"

In an instant the two had teleported across the base, to where a battered destroyer sat in another drydock. Both battleships soon broke out into giggles at the sight of poor Shigure being glomped by Yuudachi, her ever hyper sister. "...We're finally back and can spend some time together, poi!" The blond destroyer was saying.

"It's good to see you too, Yuu. But could you let me stand back up?" Shigure muttered.

"Ooooop, sorry, poi." Yuudachi replied, and quickly disentangled herself from her sister. Her red eyes soon landed on the two Kongos. "Oh, hi Kongo! Hi Haruna!"

"Hello Yuudachi." Haruna replied with a smile.

Kongo grinned and gave the destroyer finger guns, "Hey Yuu. How's it going, dess?"

Yuudachi just finger gunned right back, "Pretty good, poi."

Shigure and Haruna both rolled their eyes at their sisters' antics. A moment later the blond destroyer turned back to her brunette sister. "So when did you get back to Japan?"

"As soon as they'd fixed all the leaks and got one of my boilers running again. Which was three weeks ago. I arrived here last week." Shigure replied. "I still need a lot of work though." She continued, pulling up her navy blue shirt just enough to reveal all the bandages that covered her body."

Haruna spoke quietly next, "Ummm. What happened to you again?"

The blue eyed destroyer winced, and nervously toyed with her braided hair. "We ran into Allied battleships in the Makassar Strait."

Kongo turned to her sister, "The same ones who attacked us. Makassar Strait was the reason we were assigned to escort that convoy. Dess."

"Oh." Haruna nodded, "Prince of Wales and cousin Repulse, right?"

Shigure nodded, "Yeah. A main battery shell from one of them set off my torpedoes." A wince, "I barely made it to beach myself on Celebes. Akashi salvaged me in mid-March. I was repairing in Soerabaja until three weeks ago, when they sent me back here."

Yuudachi nodded at her sister and turned to the two battleships, "Is it true they're ghosts, poi?"

Kongo blinked. "What?"

The destroyer continued, "Like, I mean, they were reported sunk off Malaya. And then they pop up, and smash us at Makassar and the Java Sea. I mean, I was there poi. They beat the tar out of you two. Then we catch 'em with Nags and Mutsu, and I am not kidding, they freakin disappear as they run aground. Then, a week later, the airbase on Bali gets flattened by battleships, poi!"

Shigure's head snapped around to her sister. "You were at Java Sea and Bali Stait?"

"Yeah, I was, poi."

The brunette battleship bit her lip. "I have… theories."

"Like?"

Kongo shook her head, "I can't say for certain, dess. But I talked to Repulse over the radio before we fought."

Yuudachi nodded, "Yeah I was listening, poi."

Kongo leaned in, "Remember what she said? I asked her about Malaya, 'How did you survive?' She said, that was her. She sank. And yet she's still fighting us, dess. There were those prisoners we took from the dutch destroyers in that battle that mumbled something about spirits. And then theres all those spirits running around Singapore… I believe the allies have discovered us spirits, dess."

"Truly? Just as you believe us to be in the wrong in this conflict?"

Kongo clenched her jaw at the sudden voice. She took a deep breath, and turned to face the newcomer. "Yes, I do Nagato. But we've already had this argument a hundred times. I don't want to have it again, dess."

The tall raven haired member of the big seven cocker her head to the side. "I doubt it. Ship spirits have existed for thousands of years. Why would we suddenly be discovered now?"

The older battleship shrugged, "Hell if I know. It's just a hunch anyway."

"Indeed." Nagato replied, "The British are definitely up to something strange. The Ghosts of Malaya prove that much. We've photos of them sinking, yet they appear to fight us again and again. And vanish without a trace. We'll find out what they're up to soon enough. For now we need to focus on the upcoming operation."

"Midway." Shigure muttered.

Nagato nodded, "Yes. We'll win this war, and discover what they're up to. It's just a matter of time."

Kongo bit her lip to keep from talking. "Quite." She ground out, "Now if you'll excuse me…"

A split second later, the old battlewagon was back in one of her officers quarters. She stood in silence for a moment. "Heh." A laugh escaped her. "Heh. Heheheheheheeeee!"

She stood like that, laughing a sad broken laugh for a few moments before calming down. Wiping some tears from her eyes, her face shifted to sheer despair. "Why? How has it come to this?" More tears fell, and her hand clenched into a fist.

Haruna teleported into the room a moment before said fist soon impacted the desk, hard. "Stupid, nearsighted idiots! Can't they see?! We can't win! We've become a bunch of murderers and rapists!"

"Sis?" Haruna spoke, meekly.

"How are we all this blind, Haruna?! How!? We've fallen so far, and now we're going to drown in American and British steel!"

"Kongo! Please, clam down!"

Kongo paused. She stood still for a moment, and took a deep breath. With a sigh, she spoke, "Sorry Haruna. It's just…"

"I know, big sis. I know."

Kongo let a small smile appear on her face. What did she do to deserve such a wonderful little sister? The old battleship vowed there and then. She wouldn't let this misguided, pointless war claim her sisters.

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

Chapter 33: Capture

As May became June, I kept the girls training, with occasional day trips down to Melbourne for proper exercises, and assigned whatever other duties John and I could think of to try and keep everyone busy. The destroyers at least got some active duties, often being assigned to escort convoys along the Australian coast, from Sydney up to Brisbane, Townsville, and even Port Moresby once. But even with that, they still got up to mischief.

JUNE 20 1942
1349 HOURS

Hello. I'm Jupia Julia Joplyn, though most know me as Jupiter. Wales wanted me to write about a certain incident for her memoir, and I am more than happy to oblige.

It was another mild pleasant if cloudy day in Sydney. I'd had the morning off and spent it sketching the Harbour Bridge and its surroundings. After lunch I'd returned to my spot under a tree and continued. I'd always drawn and painted as a hobby, even before being activated. I found it rather calming and enjoyable. And now that it seemed I may be able to truly make a career of it after the war? I'd ended up spending much of my free time sketching and painting, honing my skills.

My sketch of the bridge was coming along nicely. Though it wasn't long before I was interrupted.

"Ummm. Jupiter?"

I sat up, lowering my sketch paper, and glanced over to see Sims standing nearby. I'd been so engrossed in my art I hadn't noticed her approach. "Hello Sims. What's going on?"

The somewhat shy American visibly forced herself to speak, "I was told to come to you for ASW advice…"

"Oh, yeah sure." I replied, stowing my art supplies and standing up. "The E's would prolly be better. They've got some actual experience, but they're all busy today, right?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I did go to them first."

I shrugged, "Makes sense. Let's see if Wales will let us head out for a couple hours so we can do some exercises."

---

1535 HOURS

Wales was more than happy to let the pair of us head out of the harbour for a few hours of training. We spent the next two hours working over what Sims' knew and didn't and did some mock drills. I'd never actually gotten to grips with a sub, so I could only teach her what I'd learned in my own training. And soon enough, she knew all I could give.

"Alright then." I transmitted, turning back towards the harbour entrance. I glanced back to see the yank destroyer follow me. "Let's head ba-" I cut myself off. As I'd spoke, Sims had tensed up, ramrod straight. "Sims?" She didn't move. "Sims!"

That seemed to jolt her out of her frozen state, and her professional side took over. "Torpedo in the water! Three-five-zero!"

I reflexively looked right, to the north, as if I would actually see the wakeless Japanese torpedo, even as I put my rudder hard over to starboard. "For god's sake." I cursed, picking up the high speed screws of not one but several torpedoes on my own Asdic set. My legs burned as I skated hard, my engines roaring as I threw my throttles to flank. I quickly came about and straightened, parallel to the torpedoes. A moment later I spotted the elusive metal fish as the spread of four passed harmlessly to my port.

I immediately cut my engines, and turned to Sims where she sailed a few hundred yards to my right, "Guess we got a live practice target huh?"

As our headlong thirty-plus knot rush slowed to a brisk eighteen knots, both of us switched on our active sensors. Sonar in Sims' case, and Asdic in mine, though they really only differed in name. We both pulled on headsets.

PING… PING…

No doubt the Nip was sweating bullets now, hearing the pings of not one, but two angry destroyers after her. A minute passed. Then two, as we continued sweeping.

PING… PING--bleep… PING--bleep...

"Got 'er!" I exclaimed. "Three-five-five, one thousand yards! Swing wide starboard and set up your run after mine Sims!" I spoke over the radio, my adrenaline spiking. I opened my throttles again, turned slightly right, and went straight for the submerged submarine. Unfortunately for her we were only a few nautical miles outside the harbour. She was diving deep, but here that meant a mere hundred-eighty feet. Half of what she could do, if what Electra had told me before was accurate.

I was on her in an instant. I reached over my shoulder, throwing a few miniature depth charges into the water behind me as guns on my rigging launched four more to the sides. All quickly grew to full size as they hit the water and sank.

I sped ahead to get clear, and a moment later the ocean behind me erupted skyward in white spray. I kept going, getting enough distance to come back around. As I did so Sims came in slow, trying to pick the sub back up.

A couple minutes passed, and I'd begun to come around when she accelerated into a turn, and her own charges rolled. Once more the sea erupted. I slowed, and soon the entire sequence repeated as I picked the nip up, and made another depth charge run.

We went on for nearly thirty minutes, reacquiring the sub and dropping more charges every few minutes. Soon enough Vampire, who was still a steel hull and had been in port briefly, and a pair of smaller sub chasers had joined us, though they all stayed out of our way, as Sims and I had gotten our alternating pattern down by then.

Finally as I was just starting another run there was a loud gushing noise, and the sound of tons of bubbles. A moment later the sub was rising.

"She's coming up!" I shouted.

Vampire was an old hand at sub hunting, and her Australian accent came quickly over the radio. "Get close to where she's coming up! Your fairies come back when you resupply, right?"

I nodded, despite no one being close enough to see. "I mean, they lose their last three months of memories, but yeah."

"Get them to board her! Retrieve any intel or useful items you can! Subdue the crew quick too! So they can't scuttle her!"

"Aye! You heard her Sims!" I said, already organizing some of my fairy crew into a boarding party and arming them. I had no dedicated marines, but I had to try.

I slowed as I approached where the submarine was rising. Sims soon joined me, some of her fairies already perched on the shoulders of her pink dress, tommy guns and 1911s in hand. We both held a bit short. It wouldn't do to have the sub rise under our keels after all. I was on the right while Sims waited to my left.

The wait was tense. Even with an emergency blow like I'd heard, the submarine rose slow. Maybe we'd damaged a ballast tank? Up and up she came. Finally her sail broke the surface, and we both surged forward. By some stroke of luck she was nearly parallel to the two of us. We were only a hundred yards or so astern. As we came alongside a half dozen of her crew clambered onto her deck, and the submarine began to accelerate, her diesels starting in a puff of exhaust.

The crew that had come on deck made to run for the deck gun, while one of them went for the AA machine gun on her sail. I only hesitated for a second before I opened fire with my portside 'fifty cal. One of them fell in a spray of blood, and tumbled over the side. The other three hesitated, before continuing. I grimaced and fired again, a long burst that raked across the deck. All three fell. A sudden burst of gunfire drew my attention to the gunner on the sail who'd started firing at Sims. The destroyer, who'd hesitated to fire until now, finally got over her reservations, and her own fifties ripped into the gunner. I winced as his head was pulped in a red puff by one of the large rounds.

If I hadn't seen such horrible gore when I'd been sunk, I'd've likely been sick. Sims too seemed disturbed but not even slightly green.

We both quickly pulled alongside the still accelerating boat, and I grabbed on, climbing onto her deck just behind the sail. She began to roll under my weight before I remembered to dismiss my rigging. Sims soon joined me as my boarding party fairies hopped off me and ran for the sail. Curiously, rather than their usual six-inch to foot height, the little guys were now just as big as Wales' or Houston's marine fairies, at two foot.

Before either of us knew it, the fairies had disappeared down the hatch. Within moments there was a muffled BANG of a gunshot. Then another, and another, followed by the rapid fire of a thompson.

I winced and glanced over at Sims. "I am not going down there. It's going to be a bloodbath." My fellow destroyer's grimace was enough to know she agreed with me.

The gunfire continued for a minute before abruptly cutting off. The diesels had shut off in the middle of the gunfight. A minute later one of my officers, the Lieutenant in charge of the boarding party, appeared on top of the sail. Distressingly, his pants were soaked red. "Oi! Oi oi oi oi! Oi oi oi oi oi oi oi oi oi! Oioioi oi oi oi oi." He reported.

Sims and I exchanged a glance of surprise. "Right." I had another dozen of my fairies hop onto the subs deck, as Sims did the same. As soon as they were off, I turned to the other destroyer. "You coordinate damage control. I'll get us moving."

"Right." The once timid girl nodded. I let a small smile appear on my face as I headed forward, towards the bow. It seemed all you needed to get Sims to open up a bit more was to end up in a situation where she needed to be professional. Who knew?

I activated my radio. "Vampire!"

The Aussie replied very quickly. "Yeah? How'd it go?"

"Tow line, quick. If we get her dockside we can get pumps working! Diesels got shot up in the boarding action!"

"'Aight!" Vampire replied. Then, forgetting to stop transmitting, "She needs a tow, Sir. We get her dockside, she'll stay afloat."

Soon the steel hulled V-class was easing ahead of the sub, and I quickly began to tie the tow line they'd thrown me. It wasn't long before she was pulling our new prize towards the base.

---

Sims and I stood on the dockside as engineers and men from the base swarmed the docked Japanese submarine, affecting emergency repairs to ensure she stayed afloat. Our fairies were slowly returning one by one up the gangway onto the dock as their duties were taken by regular personnel.

Each one came back wide eyed, exhausted and bloodsoaked. For once I hated being a ship spirit. Each one that climbed back aboard added their memories to mine. Memories of violence in a horrible confined space that soon ran red with blood, of both the crew, and the fairies. A quarter of my boarding party had died. Sims had lost about the same. The sub crew had fought to the last man. Only a few badly wounded still survived, and I doubted more than one or two would make it, with how bad their wounds were.

But what was etched in my memory was the blue-purple haired spirit, sitting in her forward torpedo room, blankly staring at the carnage her hull had become. Despite her being the enemy, I couldn't help but feel bad. She'd watched as her entire crew was slaughtered.

"Sims? Jup?" Wales' posh accent drew us out of our depressing thoughts. I glanced over to see her and Houston join us. "Well done you two. Excellent initiative."

We both straightened up. "Thank you ma'am." I spoke.

Something must've shown on our faces, because the next thing she asked was, "Are you alright?"

I glanced beside me to see Sims' haunted look. Seeing she wasn't going to say anything, I spoke, "Just getting to grips with what we did." I bit my lip, "It's… Not pretty in there. And I think the spirit herself is catatonic."

A sympathetic wince broke through Wales' regal mask, "I'm sorry to hear that. If you ever need to talk about it, I'm always here. Go get some food, and clean up. You two look like you need it. Dismissed."

"Aye." The two of us chorused, and, with a salute, headed for the dorms. I felt so dirty. A shower would do me good.

---

JUNE 21 1942
1223 HOURS

I had nightmares about the submarine that night. Of her or her crew coming for revenge. The next day dawned wet and dreary. Sims and I had been given the day off after what had happened.

We ended up in the common room of the dorms. I found myself sketching my fellow destroyer as she attended her own hobby; sowing. She was wearing the outfit she wore with her rigging today. A pink and white dress with a matching beret and bow. I was also in my usual J-class outfit. We weren't on duty, and could wear whatever. And besides, it was comfortable.

I was pulled from my sketching when my current unknowing subject yawned loudly and stretched. "Shall we get lunch?" She asked.

"Sure." I nodded, stowing my sketch and stretching as I got to my own feet.

A moment later we stepped into the rain, brollys in hand. We spent most of the walk in silence, just listening to the pouring rain. It was nice, in a way.

Peaceful.

"-ITCH!"

We both froze at the yell. "Was that Hammann?" Sims muttered. The answer came a moment later as a guttural yell met our ears followed by a loud 'clang!' of metal on metal.

We exchanged a look, and took off running. We were already soaked as we rounded the corner of one of the buildings to see Electra straddling Hammann in the muddy grass, and, frankly, trying to beat the hell out of her. Even as we arrived the E's fist met the Sims' cheek with a loud 'clang!' Just by looking I could tell they were both pulling a bit more on their ship sides, despite not having their riggings on.

Hammann wasn't just taking it though. Her own fist hit Electra's face hard enough to pulp a human's skull, but only threw the destroyer back a few feet. Both were climbing to their feet, when Sims and I arrived. "Hammann, What are you doing!?" Sims screeched, Grabbing her sister and pulling her away from Electra. I quickly did the same for my older friend, even as the two strained against us to try and get to grips with one another once more.

"Lemme at 'er! I'll show 'er old an' obsolete!" My friend yelled, even as I overpowered her and held her back. I was lucky to be more modern and have much more horsepower than the older destroyer.

"The hell is going on here!" I'd never been so happy to hear Houston's Texan drawl. Both Hammann and 'Lectra reflexively straightened at the sound of our superiors voice. I let out a sigh of relief as she stopped struggling, and let go.

The cruiser had an absolutely unimpressed look on her face as she strode over to the four of us, all soaked and standing at attention in the rain. 'Lectra and Hammann has a few shallow cuts that were bleeding and were covered in mud.

Houston stopped right in front of us. "Sims?"

"Ma'am. Jupiter and I were on our way to the mess when we heard these two fighting. Once we saw them, we attempted to stop them." The blond destroyer reported.

Houston kept eye contact for a moment more, before turning to me, "Jupiter?"

I nodded, "What Sims said, Ma'am."

The heavy cruiser mulled that over as she glanced between us all one more time, then spoke. "Sims, Jupiter. Dismissed. Go clean yourselves up and get lunch. Electra and Hammann, you are coming with me. We'll get y'all cleaned up and those wounds looked at, then we are going straight to Wales' office. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am." They both replied, and the three headed off.

Sims and I shared a glance. "Why are we the only sane ones?" I muttered.

Sims shrugged, "Encounter is reasonable… But…"

I rubbed some of the rain out of my eyes and pinched the bridge of my node. "I really wish I was a cruiser some days."

---

1330 HOURS

The Royal Navy was a government institution. And government institutions were bureaucracy. So the amount of paperwork one had to do in the navy was astronomical.

I was beginning to regret offering to help John with his paperwork out of boredom. It'd just lead to more boredom. He'd given me my own small office, just beside his in the HQ building. I'd be more proud of the fact if my new desk wasn't covered in so much bloody paper!

I was almost relieved when someone knocked on the door. "Enter."

That relief fled when Houston led Electra and Hammann into the room. She drew up and saluted. That the Texan was being very serious and even saluting quickly clued me in that she was very annoyed. "Captain. These two got into a fight." I glanced over at the two destroyers, hiding my grimace at 'Lectra's black eye, and the bruises visible on Hammann.

I stood up, as Houston stepped aside. I puzzled over what to do for a moment before deciding. I leaned against the front of my desk. "Speak when spoken too, and do not interrupt. Electra, what happened.

The older destroyer straightened up, ans spoke in her cockney accent, "Ma'am. 'Ammann 'as been 'arassing me since she joined the force. We... 'ad an argument earlier. She insulted me, and my sisters, and when I did the same back, she 'it me."

I turned to the other destroyer, "And you?"

"Ma'am. Electra never gives me the respect I deserve. She's always dismissive, and insulting every time we speak. I'll take insults, but no one insults my sisters and gets away with it."

I turned my back on the two, and let my mask break into an expression of exasperation. Houston made eye contact with me, mouthing 'Petty'. I took a moment to consider what to do. Turning around, I spoke again. "I am docking your pay for the next week, and you are both confined to base for that time. Further you two will be given assignments together. I expect you to suck up your petty argument, and learn to work together. We'll have a hard enough time with the Nips, even without you two at each other's throats. Clear?"

"Aye."

"Aye, Ma'am."

"Dismissed."

As soon as the door closed, I turned to Houston. "How did we not notice this?"

My Texan 2IC shrugged. "They're destroyers. They always think they can handle everything themselves. And of course they're on their best behavior when we're around."

I sighed, and shook my head. Glancing back at her I spoke. "Keep an eye out and an ear to the ground. I don't want any disagreements stewing and blowing up like this again."

Houston nodded, "You got it Wales."

---

The moment I stepped into John's office, he noticed how exasperated I was. "Destroyers up to no good again?"

"Got it in one." I grumbled. "Electra and Hammann have been at each other's throats since they met. And I only just found out."

"I see. It's being handled?"

I nodded, "As best I can."

John nodded, "Good. You can just drop those papers on the table over there." I nodded, and did so.

"Anything else?" I asked.

John smiled softly. "Yes, but not what you're thinking. Take a seat."

Curious, I obliged him, and he slid me a paper. I quickly took it, brow furrowing. "Refit priorities and possible improvements? It's blank."

"It's for you."

I blinked. "I'm getting a refit?"

John nodded with a smile, "And who better to ask what needs fixing and improvement than the ship herself?"

"Well…" I muttered, "I guess I better start filling out this report." I went to stand up but John stopped me.

"Before you go, Wales. I'm curious. What are you going to put on there?"

I bit my tongue as a few possibilities began to run through my mind. "Welllllll. Fixes for my guns and radar first of all. It'd be nice if they were more reliable. Some fix for my shafts. I don't need a repeat of my first death. Maybe better DP secondaries if I can. I'd love those American five-thirty-eights the Sims have. And more AA guns. As many as I can fit."

John looked amused, "Really now? American secondaries?"

I shrugged, "Yes. I used to think my five-two-fives were great. But the American gun is… It's just better in most ways, John."

"Right." He shrugged, "Well, you're the battleship. Get that report filled and I'll see what I can do for you."

"Yes Sir." I made to leave, but paused. "Oh John?"

"Mm?"

"Do we know which sub we captured?"

"I-19. Calls herself Iku."

"Right. See you at dinner, John."

---

AN: Methinks the Lewdmarine queen will be a bit more subdued this time around. We'll see more of her in future chapters.

 

[KongouBongo]

I-19 Iku, just wants to be loved, yea after seeing her crew die quite messily, but then again she was captured this time around as opposed to being sunk. Little butterflies, as she was boarded, as opposed to her her being sunk with all hands.

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

AN: Shorter Chapter today. I originally intended to have this all in last chapter, but then my muse decided we were gonna capture a sub for shits and giggles...

Chapter 34: Iku

Keeping an enemy spirit on base quickly made apparent how easily spirits might get into places she shouldn't, and how much damage she could cause. From ammo stores, fuel storage, and other steel hulls, all it would take was a lit match. For that reason, the somewhat cruel but necessary choice was made not to activate Iku, and keep her as an incorporeal spirit. At least until she was patched up and had made her planned move to Melbourne, where she could do far less damage. Unfortunately, that meant a spirit had to act as a translator, between the still invisible sub and anyone who wished to question her.

JUNE 22 1942
1302 HOURS

The fight inside I-19 between the fairy borders and the crew had been short and brutal. The action had cost Sims and Jupiter twelve fairies with twenty-one more wounded, the majority to the few Japanese crew that had managed to grab weapons. In such tight confines, one bullet could kill or wound multiple people as it ricocheted around the pressure hull.

The fairies had been far more deadly though, most of them having Lanchester and Thompson submachine guns. The little buggers had unloaded bullets down the length of the sub, turning her crew compartments into bloody mess.

Understandably then, Iku was uncomfortable spending time inside her hull. Especially since it hadn't even been fully cleaned out. I'd arrived just after lunch, where she was docked. Various allied sailors and engineers scurried about still repairing, or in some cases, cleaning, the submarine.

Considering my disposition, I'd been chosen to question the I-boat today. An intel officer, who I hadn't bothered to remember the name of, had provided me with a list of questions to ask.

The spirit herself was sitting on the dockside near her hull, watching the busy traffic in the harbour. Her face was blank, shoulders slumped. I approached slowly, but deliberately, making sure she could hear me coming. She didn't even react.

I sat down beside her, giving the subgirl a lookover. She was short, just under five foot, and looked somewhere in her late teens, maybe eighteen or nineteen. Her eyes were a ruby colour that matched mine, and her purple blue hair hung loose. She wore bits and pieces of a Japanese navy officer's uniform over her wetsuit.

We sat silently for a few minutes. The submarine still did not react to me. Her dull eyes merely flicked back and forth as she watched the ships in the harbour. She struck me as completely apathetic.

I sighed. "For the record, I'm sorry for what happened."

For the first time, life returned to her, however briefly. Her head snapped to me, eyes suddenly angry. "Why would you be?" she snapped, in heavily accented english. "You are the enemy."

I met her glare with a sad look. "Because you're a spirit, same as me. And I know what it's like to lose your crew. It's not a feeling I wish on anyone."

She glared at me, lips moving as if there were a lot of things she wanted to say all jammed up so none of them could come out. Eventually, one floated to the surface. "We're not the same."

"I'm saying that I understand you," I tried again. "Believe it or not, I know how it is to feel all alone even when I'm surrounded by people."

For a moment, I thought I might have gotten her attention. Now that she was actually looking at me, she might have been able to tell that I was not hullbound.

There was a distant clang, as if some worker had dropped something inside Iku's hull. She twitched involuntarily, glare interrupted.

Her fragile show of defiance over, she deflated and slumped back. She barked a sad laugh, and a string of rapid Japanese that went over my head. A moment later she straightened, the perfect model of stoic. "You're here to interrogate me. Spare me the pleasantries."

I regarded the suddenly defiant spirit silently. A moment later I scrapped any plans to get information. I couldn't do it. She was so broken by her recent experience, I honestly felt bad for her. I couldn't help but imagine myself in her position, my crew wiped out and myself captured.

"What was he like?" I asked, quietly.

"What?"

"Your Captain."

"Why should I tell you?" She gave me a disdaining look.

"Just thought I'd ask." I muttered, climbing back to my feet. "If you feel like you need to talk, use your radio." I turned to walk away, but paused and glanced back. "And I am truly sorry."

I sighed as I headed back to the HQ. It seemed I'd been naive again. Kongo, and her broadcasted regrets at the Java Sea, was an exception, rather than the rule. But I still felt bad for the sub. I would need to try and befriend her. Give her a shoulder to lean on. Perhaps then I could show her there was more to life than this damned war.

---

JUNE 23 1942
0943 HOURS

"You wanted to see me, John?" I asked, as I entered the Commodore's office the next morning.

John looked up from his paperwork at my entrance. "Ah, morning Wales. Have a seat."

I nodded, crossing the room and taking a seat. "So, what did you need me for?"

"Matters of marines." He replied. "Could you have Captain Tudor come out here?" He asked, referring to my Marine Captain. The cheeky little bugger had chosen his own name as a joke to contrast with my own chosen last name. A quick internal order later, said marine captain appeared on my shoulder, and I set him down on the desk.

"Alright." John started, "The Admiralty has organized the 1st Marine Heavy Infantry Battalion, mainly for administration and organizational purposes. Your four platoons are now A Company, 1st MHIB."

"Are there other companies, Sir?" I asked.

He nodded, "B company consists of the SHIP's marine fairy compliments in Europe and the Med. There aren't many, from what I've heard. Just Repulse and a couple cruisers that have been sunk actually have marines. The overall battalion commander is some marine Major flying a desk back at the Admiralty from what I've heard." An amused smile appeared on his face. "Poor bastard volunteered, and didn't read the fine print. Again, all of this is mostly just for admin purposes, so he won't even get the action he was craving from what I hear. Anyway," He changed the subject, "I assume your fairies have dress uniforms, Captain Tudor?"

He nodded, "Oi oi."

John gave a small smile, "Good. As A company, your lads… And lasses, I guess, will be receiving the battalion colour from the Australian Governor-General next week. There will be a full parade on the drill square."

My fairy nodded again. "Oi oi. Oi oi oioi oi oioi oioi?" He asked.

"Of course." John replied, "And I quote 'Continue with current attachment as HMS Prince of Wales Marine Compliment, reporting directly to Captain G. Windsor.'"

"Oioi. Oi oi Oi." He gave John a thumbs up.

"Must I attend the parade?" I butted in.

"You may." John nodded again, "But no, the GG will present the colours to the marines. If you do come, it will be just to watch."

"I'll be there sir."

---

JUNE 29 1942
1130 HOURS

In the British and Commonwealth militaries, the Regimental and Battalion Colours were a tradition going back to the days of musket and cannon, and even further back to the Romans.. On a battlefield with no modern communications equipment, music, usually drums, and The Colour were the main methods of organizing men into cohesive units. Each regiment in the British Army had a unique Regimental Colour, a flag in layman's terms, upon which the regiment's battle honours were stitched. In the olden days the Colour was flown in the middle of a battalion or regiment's formation, allowing the men to orient and organize themselves around it.

Into the modern day a battalion's colour was still a large part of ceremony and tradition. Each one granted by the reigning monarch upon a unit's formation, and brought with the unit on formal parades and such. Though the days of bringing the colours onto the battlefield were long gone.

Watching a hundred and four, two foot tall chibi royal marines parade was quite an experience, surreal in it's juxtaposition. Everyone was so serious, and yet they were a bunch of small chibis…

I'd never seen a battalion being awarded their colours before. The entire parade was something of a spectacle, with the little marines going through a whole process of drill maneuvers and an inspection by the Governor-General, the King's representative in Australia.

Finally the colours were awarded. It was a deep navy blue flag, much like what the Marine Commando battalions had, with a Union Jack in the top left, and a crown over anchors over a wreathed globe running down the middle. Finally, under the globe was 'Per Mare Per Terram' with a small 1MHI below. Latin for, By Sea By Land, the Royal Marines' motto.

Myself and Commodore Leach had attended in our dress whites. As the parade wrapped up and marines came back aboard me, they were all in high spirits.

Now John had led me down towards the docks. It was a cloudy and windy day, but thankfully not raining. We passed various personnel as they went about their duties. "What is this about?" I asked.

"We're getting some guests, temporarily." He explained, "You'll be taking part in an operation with them in the next few days. We'll have a full briefing tomorrow. I would have told you sooner, but need-to-know and all that."

I shrugged. "Understandable." A moment later we arrived at the dockside where a Catalina was pulling up. The flying boat was soon tied down, and two familiar faces emerged.

A huge smile appeared on my face. "Lexi! York! It's good to see you two again." It was a pleasant surprise to see them again so soon. They'd both been so sad last I'd seen them, when we'd left TF17 after Coral Sea. Now both seemed in high spirits.

"Heya Wales!" York chirped.

Lexi was more reserved as usual, but still sported a small smile, "Hello Wales." She turned with York to John with a salute, "Commodore Leach."

John returned it, "Captain Sherman, Commander York. Welcome to Sydney."

"The pleasure is ours, Sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." Lexi said, as they shook hands.

"Likewise. If you'll follow me?" My CO turned and began to lead us back into the base. "The Op is scheduled for July 1st. Our full briefing will be tomorrow." The two carriers just nodded. He continued, "We've already arranged everything for you to stay on base the next couple days. I'll leave Wales to show you to your rooms. The planning and papers won't do themselves."

"Where are they staying, Sir?" I asked.

"Rooms 242, and 243, right beside yours." He replied

"Very good, Sir." I replied, and with a salute, John headed back to his office.

I waved the two carriers to follow me. "So, Sherman?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder at Lexi.

The stoic carrier's face immediately fell, "My Captain. He was a good officer. A friend even." I sighed. Of course I'd stepped straight into a minefield. Stupid. Lexi continued, "But yes, Captain Lexi Sherman."

York took that as a cue to explain her own taken name. "Commander Yvette York. Had E and Hornet help me pick the family name." She seemed to try to remember something for a second before speaking again, "What was your first name again Wales?"

"Gwendolyn." I replied, "Though usually just Gwen when someone actually uses it. Which is not often. Usually it's just 'Wales' or 'Captain Windsor'. Now..." I glanced back at York, "I don't suppose you know why you're here?"

She smirked, "Curious?"

I inclined my head, "Somewhat."

The carrier moved beside me as we continued walking, and glanced around, making sure no one was in hearing range. "Japs are building an airstrip in the Solomons. We're gonna bomb it, and you and seven-niner are gonna cover us."

I raised one confused eyebrow, "Don't you have entire assigned escort groups for that?"

She shrugged, "Yeah, but none of them are SHIPs. We'd have to spend a week and a half just to sail down here, refuel, another week for a strike, and another week and a half back."

"Mmmm. Fair enough." I muttered, "And since it's been so long with not a peep, the Nips are up to something."

Lexi nodded as she joined the conversation, "Nimitz doesn't want us indisposed for a full month if they do try something, wherever they might go next. By flying us down here and using your fleet as escorts, we can save three weeks."

That made quite a bit of sense. "I see. Here's hoping things will go better than last time. Anyway, here's the dorms, mess is over there." I pointed to the nearby red brick building. "You're in 242 and 243, which are on the second floor beside my own room, 241. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment. Just call me on the radio if you need anything, alright?"

Lexi gave me a demure smile, "Thank you Wales. I'm sure we'll manage. Have a good afternoon."

"And you." I replied, and headed off.

 

[KongouBongo]

Poor Iku...

Ahh yes those little landing strips in the Solomon's nice to see the US girls again. Good chapter.

 

[IncyIncy]

Solomon island`s airfield ?
So, it will be Airfield princess / Henderson-chan event ?
Wales & friends will have to attack the airfield 15 times ?
since there is 15 version of Airfield Princess .

Spoiler: Airfield Princess

Airfield Princess

Fall 2013 Event On and after Summer 2015 Event Artist: Akira (アキラ) Seiyuu: Misato (味里) In Fall 2013 EventIshigami Shizuka (石上静香) In Summer 2015 Event E-4 Boss of 2013 Fall Event. E-4 Boss of 2015 Summer Event, also appeared in E-3X Reference to Henderson Field. Type 3 Shell deals more damage to...

kancolle.fandom.com

Poor Iku

Spoiler: Iku

I-19

Iku...is sinking...? Hey...Admiral...even if I'm not there...please...don't worry...okay...? イク･･･沈むの･･･？ねえ･･･提督･･･私がいなくなっても･･･心配･･･しないで･･･なの･･･ね･･･ 提督？このケーキ美味しいの！もっともっとほしいの！イク、クリスマスはとってもご機嫌なの！ Admiral? This cake is delicious! Iku wants more! Christmas puts Iku in a good mood! I-19 wears a...

kancolle.fandom.com

 

[Spherical_Light]

You've been busy, very good interlude.

Spoiler

In some respects, I treat Kongou as a venerated warship who has pretty much seen her nation fall under corrupted leadership and tries to keep herself from going "awol" in a sense. I realize she can't do so due to her steel hull, but with your story, it seems like she's getting closer to being derailed in a mental sense with how Naval Command is going about things. Granted, I read on SB that discussion and how she's likely to not go crazy, but you make it seem like she's getting pushed to the edge. Don't blame her of course. Thank you for that interlude.

As for Iku, shellshock, catatonic with ptsd; poor sub is going to be an extremely dark shadow of her former self. With how you wrote it, almost expect her to attempt suicide somehow; as some Japanese PoWs did after being captured, what with their "no honor in being captured" spiel in boot camp.

Edit: Ch 36 on SB was a needed pick up for me. I appreciate that

I look forward to the next update, Later.

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

AN: Sorry SV, kinda forgot you existed for the last few chapters. Guess thats what happens when there's a bigger CrW forum on SB

---

Chapter 35: The Guadalcanal Raid

With the Japanese obviously planning something, the allied brass had realised we couldn't commit to any real counter attack without allowing the Japanese to either strike uncontested, or coming down on our heads like a sack of bricks. But, what we could do was poke them, do some damage, and get the hell out before the IJN could respond. Our first run on Guadalcanal was one such raid.

JUNE 30 1942
0930 HOURS

The briefing room was full when I arrived the next morning, with all ten of my girls and both carriers present. John sat off to one side as Lt. Anderson prepared some slides. There was faint conversion as the destroyers and cruisers chatted amongst each other.

"Ah, Wales. There you are." John stood up as I entered. "Have a seat." I nodded and did so as he walked back up to the front. "Settle down ladies."

Everyone quickly quieted and Anderson switched on the projector while dimming the lights. "Alright." John started as he took his place at the front. "Welcome to Operation Crossbow, ladies. I'm sure you're curious what we're doing, so we'll get right to it."

Click, went the projector, and a map of the Solomon Islands appeared with one of the islands highlighted.

"This is Guadalcanal, in the Solomon island chain. It covers about two thousand square miles, with a mountain range running along the south side of the island. The waters around the island are believed to be relatively deep, though it would pay to be cautious near the coast. There is a small native population but nothing significant. There are no docks or port facilities, or airfields on the island."

"However, the northern side of the island is a relatively flat coastal plain, which means it is perfect for this."

The slide changed again, showing a black and white aerial photo of a large dusty runway, with the coast just visible at the top.

"Many thanks to the RAAF Catalina's that got us these pictures. As you can see, the Nips are busy little bastards. This airfield has been under construction for the last three weeks, and at their current rate of progress our analysts anticipate completion in mid August." He glanced around, making eye contact with us. "I don't think I need to explain why this airfield is going to be a problem."

"The brass would much prefer a more permanent solution, but with the current strategic situation, frankly, we can't afford to. Which is where we come in. Your objective is to launch an air raid on Guadalcanal, and impede the Nip's progress as much as possible. Once your aircraft are recovered, you are to disengage at best speed before IJN assets arrive. You depart tomorrow. Captain Sherman will be in overall command, while Captain Windsor has command of the escort. Any questions?"

Yorktown raised her hand, "Expected response, Sir?"

"Negligible. The nearest Japanese base is Truk atoll which is at least two days sail. Provided you leave the area quickly, you shouldn't be engaged." John replied.

York didn't seem convinced. I wasn't either. Not after how spectacularly wrong the spooks had been leading up to Coral Sea. "And if we are?"

"Disengage. Do whatever is necessary to ensure your survival." His face became grim, "We cannot afford to lose any of you. Anything else?" No one spoke, "Right, you sail tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

There was the general noise of chairs scraping as we all stood, and trickled out of the briefing room. I found myself beside York and Lexi as we exited the building into the morning sun. York gave me a sideways glance "Odds everything goes to hell?"

I shrugged, turning and heading for the mess, the two following. "High. 'No plan survives contact,' and all that." I muttered.

She let out a humourless chuckle, "I don't trust the intel weenies for shit. Not after they got me and my boys killed."

"Believe me, we're going to be very cautious." Lexi spoke up, "If we catch any wind that the Japs know something is up, we're turning right around and canceling the strike."

"Good call." I muttered, nodding. "Here's hoping something goes well for once."

---

JULY 1 1942
0944 HOURS

Hello. I shall be taking over the account of the Guadalcanal Raid from here, at Wales' asking. No doubt because she never had the full picture as I and York did. I am Lexi Sherman, the carrier USS Lexington. Now to business.

We left Sydney early the next morning, heading east out to open sea. Wales led myself and York in column, with the cruisers and destroyers arrayed around us in a screen. The first hour out of port was spent in silence, the destroyers all listening to their sonar headsets for any submarines. There'd been several attacks by Japanese subs near the coast in the last few weeks. But as we got further out to sea, everyone began to relax. The odds of running into a sub out in the middle of nowhere was low.

That's when the music started. Wales, out of boredom, started playing music over her PA system, loud enough for all of us to hear. Some of it was good. Some was… noise. But at the very least we wouldn't get bored.

We were sailing in a relatively tight formation, so it was only a few songs in before Anderson spoke up. "Hey? Wales?"

"Yes?"

"What type of music is this?"

A faint smile crossed the battleship's face. "It's called rock and roll. Most of it's from the 70s and 80s, with some 60s in my playlist."

I blinked, confused. Did she mean the 1880s? York had also heard that, and spoke first. "What do you mean 80s?"

Wales froze up, just for a moment. Then her plam met her face, "Right. You don't know. It's supposed to be classified but me and my big mouth."

My brow furrowed. That just made me even more curious. But if it was classified…

"Promise I won't tell anyone." York spoke up again.

I snapped over to look at her behind me, "York, no. If it's classified, it's classified." I turned back to Wales, "Apologies for her-"

The Brit cut me off with a wave. "It's fine. I trust you two enough to tell you. Just don't tell anyone else, alright." Before I could assure her it was fine, and we didn't need to know, she said, "Repulse and I are reincarnates."

My mouth shut with an audible 'click'. "Wait what?" was York's inelegant reaction.

Wales just continued, irrespective of our shock. "We were originally normal humans in what we believe was a parallel world. Since it was the 2000s and this whole war was nothing but words in a history book."

"Then… You know what's going to happen right?" York butted in, incredibly energetic. "I bet you've been feeding the brass info too!"

The wince in Wales' face was telling. "Well… Not exactly."

The next few hours were spent playing 20 questions as the two of us satisfied our curiosity. While her knowledge of the war, and history in general, was rather disappointing, it was fascinating to learn where we'd be in sixty years' time. Jets, and her admittedly limited knowledge of future aircraft carriers, were of particular interest.

Finally Anderson interjected. "Could I borrow your records when we get back to base, Wales?"

York gave the destroyer a playful smile. "You wanna learn more songs huh?"

"Well, yeah." The destroyer shrugged.

Wales glanced over at her, "You sing?"

"And play guitar, yup." The destroyer nodded, looking proud.

"Huh." Wales muttered. "Well they're not exactly on vinyl, but sure. I can show you when we get back." She explained, shooting Anderson and thumbs up, which was soon returned.

York looked like she was about to interject when she straightened. She glanced over at me. "My CAP is getting low on fuel."

Already, was what I was about to say before I checked the clock to see just how much time we'd spent talking with Wales. Instead I nodded, "Me too. Alright girls!" I raised my voice so everyone could hear me. "As we discussed, air ops formation!"

The change was quick. I swung wide left while York sped up and swung right, so we were sailing just behind Wales and to either side, line abreast one another. The cruisers and destroyers loosened up the formation to give us room, and Sims and Anderson took up plane guard positions aft of me and York respectively.

Satisfied, I started blinking my signal lamp. Most of the girls were now too far away to hear me without the radio, and we were not using them for obvious reasons. 'STEER HEADING ONE-FIVE-FIVE MAKE SPEED TWO-EIGHT KNOTS.' Again the girls were on the ball, and the whole formation smoothly turned into the wind and accelerated. I nodded, satisfied. Wales had these girls well drilled. I turned to my own work.

As was our standard operating procedures, both York and I had a small CAP of four F4F Wildcat fighters operating high above and several miles out, just in case. Furthermore, we both also had a pair of bomb-armed TBD Devastator torpedo bombers patrolling low but further out, watching the waves for any submarine that was setting up to ambush us.

Hence, I had another six aircraft of the same two types fueled and armed on my deck, ready to go within five minutes if we ran into trouble. I unslung my 'Tommy deck', as the other carriers jokingly called my aircraft launching apparatus, from my back. It was a long miniature version of my flight deck, with a likeness of a Thompson sub-machinegun's grips and magazine built into the bottom, hence the nickname.

I glanced over to see York also prepping her own launch. Unlike me, the Yorktown-class lead had a M1 Garand rifle, and a large slung flight deck. She'd attached the flight deck onto her rigging and was checking over her own six aircraft now perched on it, the pilot fairies hopping in and starting their engines. I knew if I kept watching, she'd soon pick the six planes up. They would somehow transform into bullets, which she would load into a clip for her Garand. And then fire them one by one to launch.

My own process was much less… Magical. I turned back to my own deck, and pulled the four F4F and two TBDs from my skirt pockets, and placed them on my deck. My own fairies were soon starting their aircraft's engines. It only took a minute before the lead F4F throttled up and aligned her aircraft with the deck. The tiny pilot looked up at me, and flashed a salute. I gave a small smile and a nod.

I made sure my deck was level, and pulled the trigger. The Windcat rapidly accelerated down the deck, much to the pilots enjoyment if her dopplering "HEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy!" was any indication. She was quickly airbourne and climbing away, the miniature plane rapidly growing to full scale.. A moment later her wingman joined her. Then the next, and the next. It only took two minutes for me to launch the six planes. To my right, the repetitive 'bang's of York's M1 marked her own launch.

The wait after launch took several minutes. But soon the old CAP and ASW F4Fs and TBDs came winging in. I reached down and unfolded a small mechanical arm on the left side of my rigging. It came up over my shoulder, where I quickly clipped my deck to it so my hands were free.

The Windcat fighters came in first, shrinking down to size as they approached. The flight lead executed a textbook approach and landing, the arrestor cables rapidly beginning the plane to a stop. Within moments though, the tailhook came up and the pilot began to taxi forward, clearing the landing area. The next three F4Fs and the first TBD all mimicked the first, making easy landings and rolling forward to wait at the front on the deck. The last TBD though came is low. I grimaced as my approach officer waved him around, only for the pilot to nearly stall and add more power in a panic.

The torpedo bomber hit my deck with a loud 'thump'. The undercarriage snapped instantly, and the plane skidded forward until the arrestor cable brought it to a hard stop. As for which wire… I facepalmed, "Fucking one wire." I quickly had my XO make a note to tear that particular pilot a new one.

Luckily, the TBD had stopped right on one of my elevators, so I quickly vanished it back into the hangar for the mechanics to get to work on. I set my light blinking to instruct everyone to change course back north even as I focused on getting my planes below and another set fueled and ready for alert duty.

Within a couple minutes the other TBD and four F4Fs had disappeared back into my hangar. The next, another four and a pair of TBDs came up. I was soon pulling them from my skirt pockets and placing them onto my deck like toys, though with much less urgency. I took my time with the TBDs. I held the first one in one hand, and a mini bomb in the other, and worked to manually attach it. Normally it would be more efficient to let the fairies do it down in my hangar, but I had nothing better to do.

Unfortunately, that would be the status quo for the next few days as we sailed north, Wales' tunes playing endlessly.

---

JULY 4 1942
0605 HOURS

It took us three days to get into range of Guadalcanal. We made a decent 16 knots, both York and I sending out plenty of SBDs looking for any possible problems. But it seemed we'd gotten lucky. There was nothing but open sea. Not even a submarine.

York and I'd spent the night fueling and arming our air wings for a dawn strike. All our Dauntlesses and Devastators were loaded up with 1000lb HE bombs, and we'd even slung 100 pounders under the wings of a few Wildcats.

The first light of dawn came to our two decks packed with our aircraft, ready to take off.

"Alright. Here we go." I spoke to our escorts. "If we're going to get jumped, it's going to be in the next few hours. Stay on your toes. As soon as we've recovered our strikes we're going like hell back south."

Wales nodded, "You heard the boss. Spread out, eyes up. Nips aren't gonna catch us napping."

I nodded, satisfied 79 would keep us covered. I turned my attention to my aircraft arranged on my Tommy Deck. "Ready to go?" Nearly every tiny fairy pilot glanced up at the same time with a thumbs up and 'Hey!' I couldn't help but smile. "Spin 'em up." I ordered. One by one the tiny planes' engines sputtered to life. Soon as the lead Wildcat pilot, who happened to be my CAG, gave another thumbs up and throttled up.

I nodded back, shouldered my deck, and pulled the trigger, sending the fairy on her way. Much to her pleasure. For the next fifteen minutes the pattern repeated. Plane after plane rolling off my deck. First Wildcats, then the Dauntlesses, and finally the Devastators.

The first aircraft to take off had climbed up to a thousand feet and began orbiting. As the rest took off, the formation grew and grew. Soon enough all our planes were in the air, organizing themselves into their squadrons. I could just make out my own Fighting 2's F4Fs beginning to climb into a high escort position, while Bombing, and Scouting 2 formed up in their SBDs above Torpedo 2's Devastators. York's Bombing, Scouting and Torpedo 5s and Fighting 42 quickly followed suit.

Another fifteen minutes elapsed as our two airwings organized themselves to something that barely resembled a multi-squadron formation. We'd never trained much together, so the poor fairies had little experience in working with anyone outside their airgroup. Something not limited only to our fairies, but also the rest of the USN carriers. I mentally made a note to work on that.

Finally they set off, leaving a few F4Fs behind on CAP duty, and beginning the long five hundred nautical miles to their target. Cruising at the speed of the slowest aircraft, that being the TBDs, it'd take them just under five hours to reach their target, and another five back.

My signal lamp began blinking. 'SETTLE IN, ONE-ZERO HOURS THERE AND BACK.'

I could hear the destroyer's groans, despite the thousands of yards between us.

---

We were four hours into the strike when Wales slowed and came alongside me. We'd been sailing back and forth for the whole time, staying in the same area so the fairies could find us on their way back, and I'd judged it better to rendezvous where we'd launched from, just to keep things simple.

Wales spoke as soon as she was within speaking distance. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

"Just a feeling." She shrugged. But the last two times I felt it was before Bali Strait and Coral Sea."

"You think we're going to be hit?" I asked.

Another shrug, "I don't know. Our last two engagements haven't gone our way. Hell, Coral Sea was a bit of a trap. I could be wrong but, I think things are about to go to hell."

"Well, keep your eyes out. Let's not get surprised. We'll adapt as it comes." I replied.

Wales gave a nod, "Aye aye." As with that she sped up and slotted back into formation.

I sincerely hoped she was wrong. But her words had brought back memories of Coral Sea, and the deluge of enemy ordinance. Burning alive. A tapping noise made me glance down to see my hands shaking.

I stared for a moment, then tried to force them to stop. They didn't. I bit back a feeling of frustration. I was a lady, damnit. I had better self control than this! And yet they kept shaking, the memories of my first death hoving in the back of my mind.

So, I did what most of my sailors had done when they were stressed. With shaking hands I brought a cigarette to my lips, and lit it.

Just the act of taking short drags from the cigarette was calming. Having something to focus on helped. I'd managed several pulls when my XO popped up on my shoulder.

"Hey? Heyhey hey hey hey hey hey heyheyhey." He stated.

I gave a small snort of amusement. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not aboard the carrier. I am the carrier. Now leave me alone." Honestly. Did he think I was going to actually accidentally set myself on fire being careless? I'd burned enough for a hundred lifetimes already.

For about ten minutes I just stood there, quietly having a smoke. Doing my best to calm down.

Of course, a moment later there was something else I had to distract myself with. The anticipation of my pilots soon reminded me they'd be reaching the target now.

I tossed my cig into the water, and focused on my pilots. I took a second to kick in, but a moment later I was seeing through the flying fairies eyes.

The formation was beginning to split up as they came over Guadalcanal's southern mountains. Each squadron was setting up for their attacks. The four SBD squadrons had climbed up to twelve thousand feet, ready to come screaming down in their vertical dives. The TBDs on the other hand dove, leveling only a thousand feet up, already preparing for their bombing runs across the airfield. Finally, Fighting 2's wildcats had perched up with the SBDs playing top cover, while York's 42 only came in just over the torpedo bombers, ready to strafe and bomb any target that wasn't pasted by the heavier stuff.

Off ahead of the hundred forty-six planes was their target. It was an irregular blob cut out of the island growth, half-in and half-out of a coconut grove and an open field, with a short runway, and few revetments to protect the aircraft from shrapnel. Guadalcanal Field, as the intel simply called it.

We'd just have to add some craters, wouldn't we.

As our aircraft got close to the field more details became visible. Tents, construction machinery, and a few trucks for the most part. But one of my fairies' excitement quickly drew my attention to a much juicer target.

A convoy, sailing through Savo Sound. Two small merchants and a sub chaser. No doubt bringing more supplies and personnel to the island.

The SBD pilot quickly got on the radio with her squadron, and a moment later the fifteen dive bombers broke off and headed for the ships. Unfortunately, none of the other squadrons seemed to notice. I wasn't completely sure Bombing 2 could sink all three ships all on their own. Luckily, despite not having the AP bombs I would prefer against other ships, the 1000lb HE bombs would still be very effective against an unarmored merchant. But the only way to tell the fairies of their new target was the radio.

Which would surely bring the Japs running.

But at the same time, nothing had happened. We hadn't seen any Japanese forces, other than the ones we were now attacking. Our search SBDs, launched in the morning dark, had already reached their max range, and were returning.

It was Wales' gut feeling that made me pause. Rumor was the Iron Princess had some kind of sixth sense. And she'd been right before.

But fortune favors the bold.

I quickly blinked at Lexi. RADIO BOMB 5, TARGET CONVOY.

I saw my cousin freeze, and hesitate. RADIO SILENCE?

NEGATIVE, DO IT.

WILCO.

"Bombing five, CV-5, retarget, retarget. Hit that convoy off the coast. Over."

"Hey hey hey." The affirmative answer came. A moment later Bombing 5 peeled off, following Bombing 2.

And then the rest were on target. The SBDs were the first to begin diving, starting with one or two, followed by a long stream of disorganized aircraft as the formation broke into their dive bombing runs.

Sparse ground fire rose to meet them. Nothing too dangerous. Nothing heavy. The fairies had all picked their own targets. Some targeted trucks, other dozers and other heavy equipment, or even tents. Though a fair chunk, nearly half, aimed at the runway itself.

Bombs fell, and the field erupted into dust, smoke, and dirt. I watched on as one of Scouting 2 planted his bomb dead on top of a dozer, the machine vanishing in a flash. Another blew apart a whole set of tents. This close one could see men on the ground running for cover. I felt a perverse feeling of satisfaction as a group of the Japs vanished when a 1000lb exploded amongst them.

Then it was over, the target covered in smoke and dust. The SBDs zoomed off, and silence began to descend.

And then came round two, as over thirty TBDs roared in, bombs dropping as they buzzed the field. It was hard to see through all the smoke and dust, so the fairies crewing the TBDs didn't even bother finding individual targets. Instead they went for the runway itself. Bombs falling free to crater the runway, and increase the time it would take those Jap bastards to finish their work. Soon enough, they'd all released their ordinance, and pulled away. That just left the convoy.

The the meantime, Bombings 2 and 5 had reached their target, and were now easing into their dives. The two squadron commanders had talked over the radio, and so each squadron was targeting a separate ship. Unfortunately, misunderstandings lead to them both diving on the lead mechant.

Luckily in the ensuing confusion, several pilots from both squadrons had realised the mistake, and adjusted course for the rearmost merchant ship. Two others instead went for the subchaser escorting them.

Bombs fell. The rearmost merchant was the first to be hit. Two bombs missed, before the 3rd smashed straight into the forward cargo hatch, blasting a huge hole and buckling the small ship's hull. Five seconds later a second followed the first. The bomb disappeared into the smoke from the first hit, and another bright explosion erupted.

Nearly simultaneously, three bombs struck the other civvie in quick succession, blowing gaping holes in her upper decks, and setting her entire midship's superstructure ablaze.

One more bomb followed the three, and I saw it impact the bow at a steep angle. It skipped off, hit the water right beside the hull, and exploded, ripping a huge hole in her side.

The other was no better, as another bomb hammered into her, and a near miss detonated alongside. As the last bombs hit the water, the SBD swarm zoomed away. They left both ships badly listing, and ablaze stem to stern.

An excellent day's work, I thought, as the last planes turned south and headed back.

A finger tapped my shoulder, and I snapped back to myself. A semi-panicked glance over to my left revealed an equally startled Wales, having not anticipated my reaction. "Lexi?"

I smoothed my face. "Yes Wales?"

She looked at me worriedly for a moment before her own mask slipped back into place."How goes?"

I let a small satisfied grin appear, "We hammered the strip. They won't be completing it any time soon. We also hit a convoy just off the coast. I believe we sank both merchants."

Wales' face turned into a surprised but happy smile. "Bloody well done."

"We're not done yet." I replied. "Japs know we're here now."

"True. I'm still waiting for the pin to drop." The battleship replied.

"Here's hoping it doesn't."

---

The next five hours were neverwarcking as we sailed in circles waiting for Lexi and York's planes to return. I still couldn't help but feel like something was going to go wrong. Something always did.

And yet, as I cruised ahead of the two carriers. Nothing had. We'd turned into the wind ten minute ago, and the two had begun recovering their aircraft. A stream on F4Fs, SBDs, and TBDs setting down on their decks. The only loss of the entire raid came when one of Lexi's SBDs came down hard and broke it's landing gear. She was quick to pull it from her Tommy Deck where it was attached to the side of her rigging, and throw the miniature plane into the sea to clear the deck for more aircraft.

Finally, the last plane landed, and Lexi had us tighten formation again. "Alright, Steer one-eight-zero, twenty eight knots. Let's get the hell out of here."

---

JULY 6 1942
1440 HOURS

The journey back to Sydney was significantly faster than when we'd sailed out. Mostly due to us sprinting south at twenty eight knots for twenty four hours. The sight of the harbour bridge was a welcome one as we made our way for the Naval Base. Vampire met us on the way in, foghorn tooting.

This had to be a dream. There was no way a combat operation had gone smoothly. There was always a plane, always a submarine, always something to throw a wrench in our plans, and send me back to the repair bath.

Lexi pulled up beside me, a small amused smirk on her face. "So, what was that about a bad feeling, Wales?"

"Buggered if I know." I grumbled, "Something always happens. So why didn't anything happen?!"

The carrier patted my shoulder. "We got lucky, and intel didn't fuck it up this time."

"But nothing happened!" I muttered, again. "Christ, I never thought I'd be so bored on a combat op. There's always someone shooting at me."

"Savor it, I guess." Lexi replied. "That was a good mission. I'm sure the Japs'll be back to kicking our asses soon enough."

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

AN: Gonna be on a short hiatus after this, though still writing. I'll be stockpiling up the next three-four chapters, for a few reasons.

---

Chapter 36: Beach Day

Our raid on Guadalcanal was the first time I'd taken part in an operation that hadn't had some sort of wrench thrown in the works. Only once we'd pulled into port did I relax. And a part of me still didn't believe it. The rest of that afternoon was spent debriefing, before we all collapsed into our beds. With the two carriers slated to fly back to Pearl on the 8th, we got permission to have a barbecue at a beach by the harbour entrance to celebrate a successful operation.

JULY 7 1942
1647 HOURS

It was later in the afternoon that Perth led us all to Bondi Beach, on the coast just south of the harbour entrance. Even John and Lt. Anderson had come along. We'd gotten lucky with the weather. An unseasonal heat wave had brought summer temperatures to winter Sydney the last few days. The sun was out, and it was a beautiful day.

The beach itself was spectacular. Eight hundred meters long, it was a perfect sand beach. Of course, the waves were also decently big, which obviously had nothing to do with Perth's choice of beach and her newfound love of surfing.

We'd already been there for half an hour, and everyone had split off to enjoy themselves. Boise and Houstion had set up a volleyball net, and were whacking the ball back and forth.

Jupiter, Encounter and Sims had decided to avoid their more rambunctious sisters and started building a sand castle down near the waves. Said sisters were, surprisingly, not roughhousing in the waves.

Electra had joined Perth on the water, and the Aussie seemed to be teaching the destroyer how to surf.

Up on dry land, Hamman had produced a baseball and a pair of gloves, and was trying to teach Express how to throw properly.

The two human officers of TF79 meanwhile, were sharing a beer at our little 'camp' where the barbecues, beach umbrellas and deck chairs were, watching the girls with amused looks.

I was lounging on one of the chairs, clad in a sundress over my period one piece in case I wanted to go swimming later. York and Lexi had joined me in the shade, and the two were chatting away about one thing or another.

Last, but not least Anderson, the girl, not the lieutenant, came striding over and hopped onto the chair beside me. "Hey Wales." She said, already toweling herself off from where she'd been in the surf.

"Andie." I inclined my head. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yup." She grinned as she finished drying off and pulled out a summer dress to pull over her swimsuit. "Being a SHIP is awesome."

"It is, isn't it?" I mused, "How did we ever manage back then?"

"Fuck if I know." The American destroyer shrugged. "Being invisible sucked."

"Quite."

"...So, about those tunes?"

I chuckled at the hopeful tone in the destroyer's voice. "I had a few of my engineers start making a small record engraver when you mentioned it at sea." I spoke with a small smile. "I was able to get the parts they needed to finish it this morning. They managed to engineer an interface for me to hook my music up to it. Here." I held out the square sleeve containing a record.

Andie took the offered Vinyl almost reverently. It was in a basic black square cardboard sleeve. Her eyes landed on my hand written note on the front. "Acoustic Classics?"

I gave a fond smile. My music and film collection was one of the few things I had left from my last incarnation. "You mentioned you play guitar and sing, and wanted to learn new songs, so I went through my collection and chose some songs that you could learn."

"Awesome!" The destroyer grinned, already pulling out a record player. I chuckled at her enthusiasm. A moment later she had the record spinning, and was bobbing her head to the unheard beat. It was amusingly ingenius to see two wires leading back to her. One for power, and one to pipe the audio through her internal intercom. The SHIP equivalent to headphones.

"XO, make a note of that." I muttered, quickly receiving several internal 'Ois' in confirmation. I'd have to do that myself when I wanted to listen to my music without it blaring over my tannoy for everyone to hear.

A moment later, my XO appeared on my shoulder. "Oi? Oi oi oi oi oi?"

I shrugged, "Sure, why not." I climbed to my feet and walked over to the cooler we'd brought along. I withdrew two beers. One I handed to my XO, who disappeared back inside, and opened the other for myself.

Anderson, the male officer, not the shipgirl this time, grinned from beside me, sipping his own beer. "You never struck me as a beer drinker Wales."

"I'm not," I replied, moving to stand beside him, beer in hand. It must've been funny to see me at over six foot towering over his five feet. "I much prefer gin or wine."

Another chuckle. "Why am I not surprised, Your Iron Princessness."

I rolled my eyes. "I still can't believe that's what people call me."

"I don't think you realise how famous you are, Captain Windsor. Or at least, your ship self is."

I shook my head. "Wales is fine Lieutenant. We're not on duty."

"In that case, just Tom is fine." He replied.

I nodded, and we both slipped into silence. The beer was actually terrible, I mused as I took another sip. I glanced over at the American. We hadn't interacted much. He mostly worked with John as his liaison officer. In what interaction we had, he'd always been a perfectly polite young officer.

I glanced again. He was looking out at the other girls, and I traced his eyes to Houston, as she played volleyball in her swimsuit.

I elbowed him, with a cheeky grin. "Enjoying the view?"

His brow rose, but I didn't get the flustered reaction I was hoping for. "'Course. Ain't no harm in looking." A fond smile crossed his face, "Anything more and my wife would have my head."

"Ah, you're married?" I asked.

He smiled fondly. "For the last two years. I married Emma when I graduated from Annapolis. Here."

He produced a small black and white photo of a beautiful young woman with a baby on her lap. "A daughter?" I asked.

He nodded, "Hannah. She'll be one year old in september."

"She's adorable." I said, "I suppose your wife is grateful you're in a non-combat role."

He nodded. "She is. I'd be lying if I didn't say I prefer it myself."

I felt an eyebrow raise. "Really?"

He shrugged. "'Course. I'm not a lunatic like the rest of those idiots, all gung-ho and itching for a fight. I didn't join to fight this war. My family was always poor when I was a kid. The Navy was my best bet to have a stable career with decent pay."

"When did you join?"

"'35, straight out of highschool. Did well enough on my aptitude tests they shipped me off to the Academy to get a commission. Graduated two years ago."

"So you're twenty four?"

He nodded, "Yes."

I raised my bottle in salute, "Good on you. You've done quite well for yourself."

He took a sip, "I try."

---

"Hey Wales." Express said as I joined her and Hammann the water's edge a while later. They'd tired of throwing the baseball sometime before, and taken to building a surprisingly large sand castle, with their fairies' help.

It was actually kind of impressive, at four feet tall. The little guys and girls were happily sculpting it to mimic a proper castle, with a keep, and stairs onto the walls. On top of which they'd found some wood to construct…

"Express? Is that a catapult?" I asked, incredulous.

The destroyer grinned. "Yeah. We're gonna surprise the others with it." She said, gesturing to where Jupiter, Sims and Encounter had constructed their own impressive sand castle fifty or sixty feet away.

My brow furrowed. It seemed harmless enough, but when it came to my destroyers… "What are you going to launch?"

She just pointed to a pile of sand balls that a few of the six inch gremlins were happily making, and piling against the wall below the catapult. Again, it seemed harmless enough. "Well, just be care-"

THWACK

I flinched as a high speed ball of sand smacked right into the side of my head. Slowly, and deliberately, I turned my head right to see the other three staring at me in horror. Their own fairy scale catapult sitting on the walls of their castle.

I glared at them, "I hope you realise that this... means war."

A moment later I'd sat down on my knees beside the two destroyers. "XO?"

"Oi?"

"We shall be constructing the mightiest sand castle Australia has ever seen. I want the marines building makeshift water guns and harassing the enemy while we shore up the castle and build more catapults."

"Oi oi!" He disappeared again, and I turned to Hammann and Express.

An anticipatory grin crossed my face. "We'll show them who the real sand castle builders are."

The two destroyers sat stunned at my suddenly playful attitude for a moment before they both broke into laughter. "Hey, 'Counter!" Express stood up and yelled at her sister, "Ya' fucked up now!"

The ensuing battle was legendary, and incredibly hilarious. Fairies met in battle with water guns in between our two castles, both of which grew rapidly. Unfortunately for the three destroyers, I had more crew than all three of them combined, and my fairies were soon out-constructing them through sheer weight of numbers.

Eventually both castles laid in ruins, and the six of us laid on the ground, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Express sat up, turning to me. "Never thought you'd ever join us Wales."

I chuckled, also sitting up, "Even I need to have fun and unwind sometimes Express."

She smiled, "I 'ope I turn out like you when I grow up."

I blinked. "Can you grow up?"

"Oh." Her face fell. "Right." She sighed, "Yeah I guess not. I wish I could though. Everyone always treats me like a kid."

"Me too." Jupiter muttered from nearby.

"Make that three." Said Sims.

And last but not least, Encounter. "Four."

"Meh, I could care less." Hammann butted in. "Growing up means responsibility. Fuck that."

"Anyway, it's about time for dinner." I spoke up. Sims and Encounter nodded. "We'll go fire up the barbecues." Sims said.

The two headed off, while the other four of us followed at a more sedate pace. What the destroyers had said had stuck me. I was lucky. I looked like an adult, and a pretty one at that. But I couldn't help but imagine how frustrating it must've been in their shoes, not being taken seriously by most adults. Hell, Jup had complained to me the other day about a bobby that had tried to take her 'back to school or your parents' until she'd pulled a fairy and her military ID.

I glanced over at our resident J-class, trying to imagine her grown up, rather than her current teen look. In fact… wait.

"Jup? Can you stop for a second?"

She did, turning to me. "Yes?"

"One moment." I spoke, taking a moment to produce a photo we'd taken back in Singapore, after we'd made the girls visible. I held it up, and glanced between it and Jup.

"Express?" I asked , holding out the photo. "Could you take this and stand just over there?"

The Cockney destroyer shrugged. "Uhhh, sure?"

"Jup, here, stand in front of me." I guided the destroyer to stand beside me, like she had been in the picture. "Express? Compared to me, is Jup taller than she was?"

The E blinked at the odd question, before shrugging and glancing between us and the photo. "Uuuuh?" A moment passed. "She is? What?"

"Right, thought so." I muttered, and pulled out a measuring tape. "What does your ID say your height is Jup?"

She glanced at me in surprise, "Uh. Four foot nine?"

Seeing me lean in with the tape she straightened up. I fiddled for a moment, before… "Well, you're five foot one now."

She spun in surprise, "Wait, what? Really?"

I nodded. "Have you felt odd at all recently?"

She seemed to think a bit. "Well, my legs have been aching some nights when I go to sleep. I thought it was just my crew doing maintenance..."

"But they weren't?" The blonde teen nodded.

Express butted in, "Yeah me too."

"Well, let's measure you too then." We took a couple minutes to get Express measured too. "How tall were you?"

"Five foot."

"You've gained an inch too." I muttered. A smile crossed my face. "Congratulations girls, you are growing up. When I was young too I had those pains growing up. I'm sure you've heard of growing pains. We should prolly see a doctor since this only seems to be your human side, just in case. Nothing has changed as a ship right?" I asked.

"Nope." Express muttered, while Jup just shook her head.

"Hey, do me!" Hammann interjected.

I rolled my eyes, but obliged. "Five foot." I reported.

"Oh thank fuck." The destroyer muttered. "I didn't grow! Fuck growing up!"

"Wait." Jupiter muttered, "Does that mean you have to want to grow up to grow?"

"I… maybe?" I replied. "It would make sense."

Express shrugged and continued, "Does everyone 'ave those pains growing up?"

I shrugged. "Many do. I know both myself, and my cousins all had them."

"That sucks." She muttered.

I chuckled. "Puberty will suck even more." Before freezing in horrified realization. "Oh bloody hell. I'm going to have to deal with you girls during puberty."

The look on Express' face was just a horror struck. "Wait, do we 'ave… Uhhhh… you know… blood?"

Now I was blushing. "Yes. I've had it. At least none of you are so innocent I need to give you the birds and bloody bees speech. Bugger this, let's just go have dinner."

---

JULY 8 1942
1010 HOURS

It was late morning the next day when I stepped into John's office. The man himself was at his desk, talking on the phone. "Right, thanks, Sir. Bye."

With a click, the phone returned to its cradle, and he glanced up at me. "Morning Wales."

"Morning John. Who was that?" I asked, walking over and setting the stack of papers I was carrying on his desk.

"Spooner." John replied. "He wanted some favors, but I had to tell him to go through Nimitz."

I raised one eyebrow. "Oh? What did our old admiral want?"

He shook his head. "Above your paygrade, and clearance. Sorry Wales. Now, what are these?" He asked, picking up one of the papers.

"Our AARs. Rather dull reading if I'm honest." I gave a small chuckle, "Funny, considering how gripping they usually are."

John nodded as he started reading. "A boring sortie is a safe sortie. I'd much rather send you ladies out to be bored than into mortal danger."

"Mmmm." I mumbled, "It's hard seeing girls who look as young as the destroyers do heading off to war, isn't it?"

"Yes." He nodded again, mumbling, "It really is."

Satisfied that all was in order, I turned for the door. "If that will be all, Sir?"

"Oh! Actually!" John spoke, and I turned back, curious. "I nearly forgot." He continued. "We've got new orders, just arrived this morning."

I was soon standing back before his desk as he continued, "The entire TF is to report for a month long refit, you depart on the twelfth."

I felt a grin appear on my face. Finally. "Where are we headed?"

He gave a small smile right back. "New York."

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

AN: This is canon, but not part of Wales' book.

---

Canon Omake: Meanwhile, in the North Atlantic

JULY 3 1942
1018 HOURS

For an ocean so legendary for its fury and heavy storms, the North Atlantic was surprisingly calm, mused Lieutenant Commander Hannah Windsor where she stood on her bridge. Then again, that was probably because it was the height of summer. Howe grinned. It was her first time sailing for real, outside of her trials. She'd only been commissioned two days ago at Scapa, and was already on her first mission.

As the KGV-class understood it, she was being sent to Iceland to keep Tirpitz bottled up, in order to replace… one of the Yank battleships. Which one was it again? Oh, right, Washington. The American was being sent home for some reason or other, and she would be filling the spot, and operating with North Carolina from Reykjavik.

It would be interesting to say the least. Though she would have preferred to join Kay and Duke in the Med, or Anne running the Arctic convoys. At the very least then she'd have a chance to see some action and make a name for herself, like her big sister Wales was half a world away.

At the moment she was the officer of the watch on the bridge. As a Lieutenant Commander she was third in the shipboard chain of command, behind only her XO and Captain. She was tall, just over six foot like her sisters with the same golden hair. Normally she wore it long with her usual red uniform she'd appeared with, but for professionalism's sake she now had in a bun under her officer's cap and black uniform. In the back on the bridge a record Wales had mailed her was quietly playing. She'd never heard of the Beatles before, but whoever they were, they made good music.

She strode over to the bridge windows, and glanced out at the small fleet, the chorus of the song playing in the background. "Here comes the sun, dododo~" she quietly sang along, grinning at the sunny day outside. Around her hull sailed six destroyers, most of whom were M-class, ready to jump any submarines that wanted to take a shot.

And speaking of the devil…

Meteor, one of her escorts, broke their mandated radio silence with a surprised shout. "Torpedoes in the water to starboard!"

Howe had begun RN officer's training a mere three months before, just after Java Sea when Exeter had shown the officer corps exactly how capable a spirit was as an officer. The Admiralty seemed to have realised surprisingly quickly that, despite any sexist sentiment, the spirits weren't going anywhere, and the advantages of a well trained spirit with rank to match massively outweighed any social or cultural downsides. There were those who disagreed, but the war ensured any decisions were pragmatic first and foremost.

So, when the destroyer's call came over the radio, Howe fell back on her training. "All ahead full, Hard to port!"

"All ahead full, aye!"

"Hard to port, aye!" The young lads manning her telegraph and helm responded.

She turned to a messenger. "Sound action stations and get Captain Woodhouse up here."

"Aye, ma'am."

Her hull accelerated and heeled over into a turn away, her tannoy blaring the messenger's voice, "General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands man your action stations. The route of travel is forward and up to starboard, down and aft to port."

Satisfied she'd done everything in her power to keep her hull from danger, the battleship strode back to the bridge windows. She quickly pulled her binoculars up to her eyes. She was greeted at the sign of Meteor's stern as the destroyer sped down the torpedo bearing, hunting the submarine.

And there were the torpedoes, a full six white lines in a wide spread aimed right at her. "Oh hell, this is going to be close." She muttered.

By accelerating and turning, she was now clear of all but the last of the six. And just by looking she couldn't tell if it was going to hit or not. She quickly stepped onto the bridge wing, picking up and stowing her record player as she passed, eyes glued to the torpedo. Come on! She thought, Turn faster!

It was not to be. With rising horror she realised it was going to strike her starboard stern. "All hands brace!"

The tannoy just had long enough to blare out her words before the detonation shook the whole ship. A splitting pain shot up her right leg and she fell with a small cry as it buckled. "Ah! Bloody-!"

She grimaced, already knowing exactly what was damaged and what to do. Powering through the pain, she climbed unsteadily back to her feet, and teleported down to her engine spaces.

She appeared right in front of Lieutenant Ashbrooke, the man in charge of the starboard outer shaft. His eyes widened at her appearance, but she spoke before he could react further. "Shut it down!"

"What?"

"Shut it down!" She shouted again, "The bloody screw's been blown off!"

His eyes widened, understanding immediately. "Aye ma'am!"

Another teleport brought her to another Lieutenant, Belman, who was in charge of her starboard inner. "Shut it down! The screw is gone!"

An older salt who'd been a long serving Noncom before getting his commission, was far more professional than the twenty year old Ashbrooke. He didn't even question her. "Aye aye ma'am. He turned to his crew at their controls. "You heard the lady! Shut 'er down!"

Satisfied, she returned to the bridge, having only been gone less than thirty seconds. "Keep us at flank." She ordered.

The man with the telegraph nodded while the helmsman looked confused. "No course change ma'am?"

She shook her head, "Can't. It's jammed."

"What is jammed?" An older man's voice came from behind.

Howe spun as best she could with her now bad leg. She gave a quick salute, "The rudder, Captain."

Captain Woodhouse was a tall man in his late forties, and she'd have no one else as her first commander. He'd captained Ajax at the River Plate, and she could see why the Leander-class spoke so highly of the man.

At her explanation his face turned grim, "Full report?"

She nodded, "A submarine fired a spread of six torpedoes which Meteor picked up and reported. I attempted to evade but one stuck the hull on the starboard stern, just above the rudder. The rudder is jammed hard to port, and both starboard shafts are inoperable. Damcon crews are already sealing the compartments that are suffering major flooding."

The Captain didn't even flinch. "Well then, we're in a right bind. I have the con."

She gave a firm nod and turned to the helm, "Aye, the Captain has the con." She turned back, "Shall we call for help, Sir?"

He shook his head, "No, that will just call more subs down on our heads. Can we get the rudder repaired?"

The battleship spirit took a moment to feel through the pain in her leg, and the tons of seawater rushing into her stern. With a grimace she reported, "No Sir. The steering system is broken, and even without that, a chunk of torn hull is pinning the rudder in place."

Woodhouse stood, mulling that over for a second, before her waved her to the back of the bridge, "Stay as you are until we return." He ordered the crew, before the two stepped into the small hall behind the bridge and shut the door, though not locking it. The captain trusted his ship's omniscience would allow them to react should anything happen, not that they could do much with a busted rudder and pair of screws.

"I need options, Howe." He spoke quietly and quickly, looking uncertain for the first time since Howe had known him. "I have no idea how we're getting out of this, without a lot of help. But if we call for help, we're going to have a dozen U-boats on us before we know it."

That admission shook her to her core. How could it not? He was her captain. The man who always knew what to do. "I-" She started, before straightening in surprise.

"Howe? Howe!"

She flinched, "Ah, Sorry sir."

"What was that?" He asked, bewildered.

A genuinely scared look crossed her face. "I picked something on the huff-duff set sir…"

The experienced captain immediately knew what that meant. "That Jerry sub's calling her friends… Balls." He cursed uncharacteristically. "Signal the Admiralty and Reykjavik: 'Request all available ASW and tugs, my position. Urgent.'"

"Aye Sir!"

---

In the last four hours the sea around her circling hull had become a battleground between destroyers and U-boats as fierce as any convoy battle. There must've been an entire wolfpack trying to get through the screen. Luckily the destroyers who accompanied her were no longer alone. First to arrive had been a coastal command Catalina from iceland, depth charges under both wings. It'd soon been joined by a second, and a third US Navy Catalina soon after. Next to arrive were two American Benson-class destroyers, including the class lead, that had been escorting a convoy two hours sail ahead of them.

Unfortunately, even having eight destroyers and three ASW aircraft going to town on the subs was not enough to stop torpedo after torpedo being thrown at the big juicy crippled battleship sailing in circles at ten knots. One had hit her bow, fooding her forward compartments. Five more had detonated along her starboard side, and two on her port, though none had gotten through her torpedo protection.

In exchange the destroyers had claimed two U-boats. One had sunk below crush depth leaving an oil slick and debris. While the second had been damaged and forced to surface where Meteor and Benson had taken her apart with a deluge of gunfire.

"I got her! She's coming up!" One of the destroyers shouted excitedly. Marne, if Howe remembered correctly. The battleship was still on her bridge, aching from the battering she'd suffered. A glance revealed the M-class destroyer loitering a few thousand yards off Howe's bow, guns already training on a nearby patch of water. By the time the sub surfaced, she'd be on the battleship's broadside…

"Sir?" The spirit turned to her Captain, a slight grimace of pain on her face. She pointed at the destroyer, "Marne's forced a sub up, permission of open fire?"

He glanced at her, pityingly, "Wanting payback is unbecoming of a Royal Navy officer." Then an amused grin crossed his face, "Fire at will."

A predatory grin appeared on her face. "Aye aye. Gunnery, aim all guns to the left of Marne, stand-by to engage the U-boat as she comes up. Marne, clear out!"

The destroyer's voice came back confused. "Why? I got her dead to…" She paused, and then sounded incredibly amused, no doubt having seen the battleship's massive guns turning to bear on the U-boat's location. "Heh. All yours Howe."

Half a minute later all of her guns sat trained on where the sub was surfacing. FInally the sea broke, and the gray shape of a U-boat emerged from the waves. "All guns, local control! Fire as you bear!" She barked over her talker's mic.

The slavo buzzer rang… BANG …and the U-boat simply ceased existence as four fourteen-inch HE shells ripped her apart. At three thousand yards she could hardly miss. Her secondary gunners, wanting to get in on the fun, let off a volley into the torn and rapidly sinking U-boat, but in under a minute the submarine had slipped under the waves.

Howe gave a sigh of contentment, much to the Captain's amusement. "Enjoy that?"

She grinned, "That felt bloody great." She turned to where the sub had sunk, "Take that you fucking wankers!"

He chuckled, "Payback's a bitch."

"Torpedoes to port!" The shout from one of her lookouts stole her from her satisfaction. The two officers on the bridge quickly turned to the windows, binoculars trained on another spread of six torpedoes.

This was it then. She thought. Her torpedo protection already had gaping holes blown in it. She couldn't maneuver at all. All she and Captain Woodhouse could do was watch.

Four torpedoes found her side. Two hit un damaged torpedo bulges, and did little more than rock her hull. Two hit compromised sections, and that was that. Two huge holes poured water into her port engine rooms, causing a rapid list.

As soon as she'd reported such to the Captain he sighed. "It was an honour to be your Captain Howe. Strike the colours." With that he strode over to the tannoy. "All hands. This is the Captain… It was an honour to command you all. All hands, abandon ship. All hands, abandon ship."

---

JULY 7 1942
1115 HOURS

Lieutenant Commander Hannah Windsor stood at attention, on a small peninsula just outside Reykjavik. Behind her stood the remnants of her crew.

At least… all six hundred twelve of them. The wolfpack had no mercy. Meteor had scooped the crew from the water, and would have rescued more if the U-boats hadn't then tried to torpedo her. The destroyers had turned and made steam for Reykjavik. She'd railed and ranted at the Commander Captaining the destroyer. Demanding they turn around. He'd had a breakdown from the guilt of leaving nine hundred men to their deaths soon after.

Captain Woodhouse had been among those left behind, as had her XO, Commander Livesy.

She was the highest surviving officer. So she'd pulled herself together, and did her best to organize food and temporary lodgings for her surviving crew.

Which brought her here, with all of them. She'd had her newfound fairies machine a chunk of her steel armour, and engrave upon it the names of all nine hundred and nine men and officers who she'd failed.

The monolith was now concreted to the rocks on the peninsula, and small metal cross with a sculpted poppy atop it.

The honour guard she'd chosen from the crew drew up their arms, and she saluted to the crack of a three-volley salute. "I will remember them."

---

AN: I'm starting to realise I'm good at writing really sad stuff

A little Remembrance Day special that came to me while attending the local ceremony. Sometimes I just stop and be thankful I wasn't alive during WWII. War is Hell.

This one is for the combat vets, who go through hell so we don't have to.

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

AN: Commissioned some art for the story, but not willing to post the entire thing as it contains spoilers, so I will post it when we get there. Hasn't stopped me from cropping it up though. So, I figured since we're on a bit of a hiatus with the main story, why not chop up the pic and do Commodore Leach's notes? I'll do the E's and Sims a bit later. Art credit goes to the excellent Ryan Graythorn.

---

Task Force 79 Personnel Files
MOST SECRET
Attempting to access this document without appropriate clearance constitutes treason. In the event that you have gained access and do not have the requisite clearance, immediately turn yourself and this document over to Allied military police.

Cpt. Gwendolyn Windsor, DSC and Bar
HMS Prince of Wales (53)


Height: 6'1
Eyes: Red
Hair: Blond
Type: King George V-class Battleship
Actions: Denmark Strait, Operation Halberd, Sinking of PoW and Repulse, Kota Bharu, Makassar Strait, Java Sea, Bali Strait, Coral Sea, Guadalcanal Raid

Commodore Leach's Notes: My second in command, TF79's flagship and at-sea commander. Captain Windsor is, in my opinion, the most capable battleship in the world. As a KGV she is physically, at the very least, equivalent to her contemporaries (North Carolina-class, South Dakota-class, Bismarck-class, etc.). What sets her apart is her experience. Captain Windsor has seen more action than any other battleship of her generation, and even beyond that, is only matched by a few battleships of First World War vintage. This experience, matched with her modern capabilities is what I believe makes her the most capable surface combatant afloat. She is incredibly steady under fire, and her armour has allowed her on multiple occasions to sustain extreme damage and continue fighting (See Java Sea and Bali Strait AARs). Her gunnery is also some of the best in the world. Outside of battle, she is an extremely polite young officer who carries out her duties diligently.

PS: Take everything I say about Captain Windsor with a pinch of salt. As a steel hull she was my first capital command, and I would be blind to not admit I am rather biased towards her.

---

Cdr. Houna Hampton
USS Houston (CA-30)


Height: 5'10
Eyes: Gold
Hair: Blond
Type: Northampton-class Heavy Cruiser
Actions: Makassar Strait, Java Sea, Bali Strait, Coral Sea, Guadalcanal Raid

Commodore Leach's Notes: TF79's third-in-command, and second-in-command at sea. Commander Hampton is something of a big sister to the fleet. She is normally found corralling the destroyers, and keeping them out of trouble. At sea she is stern, but does a good job as fleet 2iC. Like Captain Windsor, she is very calm under fire, and is capable of holding her own against any opponent in her weight class. Like the rest of 79, she is very experienced.

---

LCdr. Bryn Brooklyn
USS Boise (CL-47)


Height: 5'7
Eyes: Gold
Hair: Blue-Green
Type: Brooklyn-class Light Cruiser
Actions: Makassar Strait, Java Sea, Bali Strait, Coral Sea, Guadalcanal Raid

Commodore Leach's Notes: The first of two Light Cruisers in TF79. Lieutenant Commander Brooklyn is easily one of the most recognizable SHIPs thanks to her unique hair colour. She can be somewhat immature at times, and somewhat reckless in her pursuit of the enemy, but can be reigned in by a steady commander. Her gunnery is excellent. When combined with the rate of fire her six-inchers are capable of, she has proven to be a credible threat to even much larger opponents, and a bane to enemy destroyers.

---

LCdr. Phoebe Leander
HMAS Perth (D29)


Height: 5'5
Eyes: Purple
Hair: Blond
Type: Perth-class Light Cruiser
Actions: Operation Excess, Cape Matapan, Crete, Java Sea, Coral Sea, Guadalcanal Raid

Commodore Leach's Notes: The only Australian SHIP currently in existence. Lieutenant Commander Leander can be a somewhat prickly girl, but gets along reasonably well with her fleetmates. Like Captain Windsor, she is extremely experienced, having served ably in the Mediterranean through the first half of 1941, and the DEI Campaign. She is understandably cautious in combat, and seems to have a slight fear of aircraft, though nothing debilitating.

---

Lt. Jupia Joplyn
HMS Jupiter (F85)


Height: 4'9 5'0 (Note: Current theory proposes that SHIPs can unconsciously 'switch' aging on and off, depending on a desire to grow up. Jupiter, the E-class Sims and Anderson are all growing at a normal pace for humans their apparent age.)
Eyes: Purple
Hair: Blond
Type: J-class Destroyer
Actions: Cherbourg Bombardment, 1st Cherbourg Skirmish, Start Point, Java Sea, Coral Sea, Guadalcanal Raid

Commodore Leach's Notes: Lt. Joplyn is physically the youngest of TF79's destroyers, but is simultaneously the most mentally mature, hence her usual status at sea as the commander of the destroyer screen. As a J-class, she is also the most capable surface combatant of the lot with a relatively heavy six gun broadside. After Captain Windsor, she has also been a SHIP the longest. Some of the more creative uses of a SHIPs unique capabilities have come from Lt. Joplyn.

 

[Spherical_Light]

The art looks very nice and they all look professional.

As for being in WW2... Yeah, I can sympathize why you wouldn't want to be in that time period.

And yet, perhaps being in a position of influence say post ww1 or in the 20s, that I wouldn't mind so much. Its fun to dream and write up alt history ideas at least...

Don't zone out this forum now... There are some of us here who do not bother with SB accounts for reasons. Have a good.... Post Canadian Thanksgiving. Yeah, that was last month.

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

Don't zone out this forum now... There are some of us here who do not bother with SB accounts for reasons.

Click to shrink...

I still don't know why. No one will tell me. I mean, there's stupid, and more than SV I'll admit, but it's no more dumbassery than I've come to expect from the internet *Shrug*

 

[Spherical_Light]

"....Don't know why....."

Well, I assume your talking about why I choose not to have an SB account as well.....?

In a way, I like quieter forums. SB is a bit noisier in some respects. Also, I tend to look at how moderators behave etc... I think after my experience on some sims fansite forums, I'm far more cautious. Granted, even if the site is frequented a lot, I tend to post sparingly. But this only my thoughts and opinion on your question, so take it as you will.

On another note, yeah, writing of depressing stuff. I can sympathize; thinking of all the destruction wrought during ww2. Yeah, its sad how seemingly focused we can get writing sad stuff, and yet its more difficult writing about happy stuff. Weird how the mind works...

Anyway, back to one of my games.

 

[Martin Bajar]

To be honest, if a fic is posted on SB and SV, I try to follow it on both. It's nice to be able to read both sites' Omakes and discussions

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

To be honest, if a fic is posted on SB and SV, I try to follow it on both. It's nice to be able to read both sites' Omakes and discussions

Click to shrink...

Too bad this thread is dead compared to the SB one XD

 

[Martin Bajar]

Too bad this thread is dead compared to the SB one XD

Click to shrink...

I actually only found the fic quite recently on SV binched it on the train and then put it on my SV watchlist. I also only put it on the watchlist on SB today, so I haven't followed all that much on SB yet for this. But true, 66 versus 4 is a big difference. I do like the second part of the personnel files you only posted on SB

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

I actually only found the fic quite recently on SV binched it on the train and then put it on my SV watchlist. I also only put it on the watchlist on SB today, so I haven't followed all that much on SB yet for this. But true, 66 versus 4 is a big difference. I do like the second part of the personnel files you only posted on SB

Click to shrink...

Oh shit, I forgot to post that here didn't I lol. Balls. Better fix that XD

 

[chriswriter90]

Too bad this thread is dead compared to the SB one XD

Click to shrink...

Give and take.

The SB Thread has the livelier discussions but SV has easier-to-read text.

 

[FreakOTU]

Also, there's a non-zero number of people in both threads, so, at least in my case, it feels uncouth to bang on the same drum in two locations.

Now, if I crank out an Omake or similar, I'd cross-post that for the OP to do with as they see fit, but I generally only pick one thread to really talk in.

 

[Spherical_Light]

^^^ This, You said it quite well, but I think the term might be superfluous, not necessarily uncouth. I also believe myself that posting in each thread is superfluous and a bit of a timesink in some aspects, especially if you tend to use a phone fore your forum browsing, which I do not.

Also, SV has a default view of 25-30 posts per page, while I believe SB only has 10-15 posts per page default view; and by default I mean the view you get when you browse the site in guest mode.

I have the SB thread bookmarked [you know, browser bookmarks are a thing], but as someone else has also said, SV is just easier to read and navigate.

Edit:

So, Drahinifel has a video out on the KGVs, very interesting and very informative.

Video on KGV class

 

[Martin Bajar]

Omake - IJN Hiyou, the carrier that wants to be a cruiseship

"lieutenant", lieutenant-Commander Anneleen Waters called her First officer. The Dutch navy had, after some hesitation, gone ahead and had given her command over her own hull, the submarine HNLMS O-23, "you should watch near the side of the carrier over there."

While they stood no chance of getting through the destroyer escorts, the submarine was more than capable of keeping herself and her crew hidden, allowing them to observe the Japanese carrier group.

"She's the ship spirit of that carrier isn't she?" the lieutenant asked.

"She is", lieutenant-commander Waters confirmed, "someone clearly activated her, but why is she throwing guns over her own railings? She moved, let's see. She's up on her flight deck, what is she doing to her planes, I'm taking a closer look, you have the conn."



Anneleen Waters had no intention of taking her hull any closer to the Japanese, but that didn't stop her from being able to get 5 nautical miles from her hull, allowing her to take a closer look. To her utter surprise, she now saw, how the other ship spirit managed to turn off the breaks of several zero's before rigging it so all of them rolled of her decks and into the sea.

Of course that's when she was clearly spotted, given that the spirit suddenly winked straight at her.



"You mean she painted over her her name Hiyou, with another name? That's what she did?" Waters was not really getting it. After returning to the closest allied controlled port, she had reported her findings to her admiral, who had brought in a British Intelligence officer.

"Well, Hiyou and her sistership were originally going to be cruiseliners", the intelligence officer explained.

"And Hiyou didn't agree to the conversion into a carrier", Waters understood, "the other name was what she was going to be called as a cruiseliner?"

"Exactly, Izumo Maru", the intelligence officer confirmed.
________________________________________________

Disclaimer, the communication between the sub spirit and her XO is in Dutch, I could have written it in Dutch, due to it being my mother tongue, but given that most wouldn't understand it I stuck with English

Anneleen Waters rank in Dutch would be "Kapitein-Luitenant-ter-Zee". Her XO's rank in Dutch "Luitenant-ter-Zee"

IJN Hiyou was a cruiseship under contstruction that was bought by the Imperial Japanese Navy at the start of WWII and converted into a carrier. I actually learned about her existence from All WO-rk and no Play. Yes, she did manage to get activated, but as she earnestly wants to bring joy to people (and have children playing on her decks), she's unlikely to activate other Japanese ships. She clearly didn't think through that the Japanese navy will most certainly think there are saboteurs in her crew ...

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

Chapter 37: Siblings

Crossing the Pacific by flying boat took us a week. It was far faster than sailing would've been, but I severely missed modern airliners. Once we arrived in San Diego, we were bundled onto a Pan-Am DC-3 for the flight across the country to New York. It felt odd to be leaving the Pacific when the Japanese were clearly up to something, though John assured me there was a very good reason.

JULY 15 1942
1548 HOURS

It was a warm New York summer's day that greeted us as we finally stepped off the DC-3 at New York Municipal Airport. We'd all worn civvies on the flight to avoid attention, since it was a regular passenger flight.

I found myself curiously glancing around as we descended and began to cross the apron towards the terminal. Off in the distance to the southwest, I could make out the New York skyline. Much to my surprise I was even able to recognize the Empire State building from photos I'd seen. Traveling was quite an experience for me. I'd never been outside the UK in my last life. Turns out being in the navy really was a good way to see the world.

A minute later I led the other ten girls into the terminal, with the other passengers that'd been on the flight. As we entered my eyes immediately landed on a man in a USN uniform holding a sign with '79' on it. He had Lt.Commander's insignia and looked vaguely familiar with his brown hair and eyes, though I couldn't put my finger on why.

I glanced over my shoulder and exchanged a nod with Houston, before leading my little 'fleet' over.

He spotted us coming immediately, and perked up as we approached. "Are you here to collect us?" I asked.

"Are you Captain Windsor?" He asked right back.

I gave a nod, "I am."

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am." He replied, forgoing a salute since I was out of uniform, "I'm Lieutenant Commander Anderson. I'll be your liaison for the duration of your stay."

I raised one eyebrow at his name. Could he be…? Nonetheless I gave him a polite smile. "We're in your care. I don't suppose you know a Lieutenant Tomas Anderson in Australia?"

The young officer's eyes widened, "You know Tom?"

I nodded, "He's our American liaison officer. You?"

He nodded right back. "He's my younger brother. Are you the Gwen he's mentioned in his letters?"

I shrugged, "Quite possibly. Why would he use my first name though?"

Anderson shrugged. "Pretty sure the censors blacked out your rank and last name the first time he mentioned you. Anyway, our rides are waiting, if you'll follow me?"

I nodded, and he began to lead us through the terminal. "How is Tom doing?" he asked as we walked.

"He's well. A right gentleman, that one." A small smile crossed my face. "And more than happy to be in a non-combat position."

The elder Anderson nodded. "Sounds like him. Good to know he's well. It's been a while since I last saw him." He gave a small chuckle. "I'll have to have you take a letter for him back with you. Be way faster than the navy's mail service. That's for sure."

"I'd be happy to."

---

Theodore Anderson was quite different from his younger brother, but was just as good at his job. We'd soon been driven to our hotel, nearby the Brooklyn Navy Yard. It was late afternoon by the time we'd settled in. I'd ended up sharing a room with Houston. According to the Anderson we had two days leave to get acclimatized to the time zone change before we were slated to begin our refits. And with that, he'd left us to our own devices.

I'd not felt tired at all, and so took the opportunity to make the ten minute walk down to the yard. It was a large complex with a tall red brick wall around the perimeter. My military ID had gotten me past the marines guarding the entrance easily enough. Apparently I had clearance for the entire yard.

That little anecdote had made me grin. I had to admit, I was quite curious what ships were in the yards, and so made my way toward the drydocks and slips.

I soon found myself standing at the yard's two main slipways. One was empty. The other held a brand new hull.

The first thing that struck me was how long she was. She easily had over a hundred feet on me, and was much sleeker. I found myself walking down the length of the slip, looking over what could only be a new battleship. I took care to avoid the busy workers, none of whom spared me more than a cursory glance, so busy were they.

She was still to be launched, so she wouldn't be a spirit yet, and it showed on her hull. She didn't have any turrets, just barbettes, and no superstructure to speak of.

I ended up walking all the way down to the end of the slip at the water's edge, near her stern, before working my way back up to near the bow. For a few moments I just stood there, watching the yard workers toil away.

"Beauty, isn't she?" I nearly jumped at the voice who spoke beside me, and spun to see a gray haired, five foot nothing woman had joined me at some point. She chuckled at my reaction before turning back to the battleship, continuing. "She's the first of our non-treaty battleships."

I followed her gaze. "What's her name?"

"Iowa." Another snort, "Damned lucky girl is going to grow up never knowing what it was like to be incorporeal."

"She is, isn't she." I muttered. "Bloody hell, I would've killed for that back when I was being built."

My new companion snorted. "Most've us would. It's the best damn thing to ever happen to us spirits."

"Quite." I replied, before turning and offering my hand to the other spirit, "Battleship Prince of Wales."

She gave me an appraising look before shaking my hand. She had a very firm shake. "Repair ship Vestal. I thought your TF was supposed to be in on Friday, Princess."

I took a moment as I formulated a response to look her over. She had serious blue eyes under her gray hair, which was itself kept out of the way by a bandana over the top and a ponytail in the back. Around her neck was a pair of tinted welding goggles, along with spark proof coveralls to avoid any accidents.

I gave the gray haired girl a nod, trying to ignore her already annoying nickname for me. "We are. We've two days of leave in the city, and our accommodations are nearby, so I thought I'd come have a look. Are you going to be handling our refits?"

The American nodded. "I've been working with the boffins and engineers to figure out SHIP refits. We cracked it four months back. Been busy refitting girls since."

"I see." I inclined my head back to Iowa, "What are her specs?"

"Classified."

I rolled my eyes. Of course it was. "I see."

She shrugged, as if to say 'What do you expect'. "It's the Navy." She turned to walk away, but paused as something occurred to her, "Oh, by the way there's someone who I think would like to see you."

I glanced at her in surprise. "Oh? Who?"

She pointed back the way I'd come. "You'll find them in Perry's. That's where they usually hang out. Just straight out the gate, second right. Small Irish pub on the right side."

A gave her a small smile. "I see. Thank you Vestal. I'll see you on Friday."

She gave an irreverent wave and walked off towards her warehouse workshop. "Yup'."

---

Perry's Irish Pub was exactly where Vestal had said it was, and was pretty much what I expected from such a place. Just a small pub nestled in among the Brooklyn buildings.

I couldn't help but feel incredibly curious about who wished to meet me. I didn't know anyone in New York. Perhaps there were some British ships in the drydocks? I suddenly regretted not having a look at the other parts of the yard at the very least.

Soon enough I reached the dark green door, and entered to the jingling of a bell.

It seemed the place was quiet on this Wednesday afternoon. Only two tables were occupied, and the bartender only gave me a passing glance where he was boredly cleaning some of his glasses.

To my left was one of the two tables, and a group of working class men glanced at me before returning to their cards.

To my right was an occupied booth against the wall. Two women sat at the booth, sharing a drink. The one on the right had golden blond hair that hung long with a small braid over one shoulder, and blue green eyes. She wore a blue summer dress. Definitely a ship spirit, and one that seemed oddly familiar, though I'd never seen her before in my life.

The other wore a red sundress with her golden blond hair straight, and surprised ruby eyes gazed at me from a copy of my own face…

Before I knew it I was speed walking over as she climbed from the booth to meet me. "Wales!"

"Kay!"

I felt sheer joy as my big sister and I met in a hug, both of us grinning happily. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here, Wales?!" My sister exclaimed in joy as we hugged, soon drawing back to look me in the eye. "No one told me you'd be along."

"Me either." I replied, matching her beaming smile, "God, it's good to see you sis."

Kay grinned. "Come on, sit down, have a drink. We have some catching up to do."

"Umm. Kay?" The spoken words drew both of our attention to the other member of the table, who'd stood up by now.

My big sister just kept grinning. "Of course, you two need introductions. Wales, this is your little sister, Howe. Howe, your big sister Wales."

I froze, eyes locked on the other girl. My little sister? That made more sense the longer I looked, and more than explained my feeling of familiarity. Her face had similar features to my twin and I, and the same hair.

She stuck her hand out to shake, a small look of awe on her face. "It- It's a pleasure to finally meet you, sister."

Far a moment I just stood there, a few tears beginning to prick my eyes. Before I knew it I'd pulled Howe into a hug, and begun crying a few tears of joy. "Oh god." I spoke, voice wobbling, "I thought I'd never get to meet you."

"Wales?" Kay asked, concerned.

"I'm okay. I'm okay." I muttered as I pulled back and began wiping away the tears. "I'm just so happy. I… Still remember thinking, 'I'll never meet my little sisters' as I went down, yet here I am."

I turned back to Howe, eyes clearer and a happy smile on my face. "It is truly good to finally meet you… Little sis."

The radiant grin Howe gave me made everything worthwhile.

---

A few minutes later we were all sitting in the booth, an expensive bottle of white wine on the table, and our glasses full. Such an occasion as reuniting with my elder sister and meeting one of my younger sisters for the first time absolutely deserved some celebration.

I gave a satisfied nod as I took my first sip. "Ah, that's very good. So. What brings you to New York, sister of mine?"

My sister took a sip from her own glass, nodding agreement with my appraisal, "Same as you I'd expect. Repairs and refits. Some sodding pair of Italian torpedo bomber pilots got lucky. Took a pair of fish in my torp defenses. I'm in for two weeks to get it patched up. They're using the opportunity to bolt on some more AA as well."

"You were in the Med?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yes. Been operating out of Alexandria and then Gibraltar the last few months with Diana. Was running a Malta convoy when I got hit."

My brow creased. "Diana? You mean Duke of York?"

Kay nodded, "Got bloody confusing between her and Iron Duke since they both prefer 'Duke', so I ended up using her human name, and it stuck. Shall we do the same for you, 'Gwen'?"

I chuckled and shook my head. God I'd missed our banter. "I'm fine with 'Wales', thanks sis."

She smiled in amusement. "So what are you in for?"

"General refits." I replied with a shrug, "I won't know exactly what until we start on Friday." I turned towards our other sister, who'd been quiet so far. "What about you, Howe?"

My little sister shrunk into herself at the attention, but spoke anyway, "I...uh. I'm just getting refits too. Um. I'm supposed to join a...task force seventy-nine in the Pacific afterwards."

My eyes widened. "Did you say seventy-nine?" She nodded. "That's my fleet!" I let a huge happy grin appear on my face. I'd never gotten the chance to actually sail in a fleet with any of my sisters, let alone fight. This was going to be great. "You'll be serving with me!"

Howe perked up, "I will."

"Yes. We're an all SHIP… Task force…" I paused as I realised the one thing I'd missed. With growing trepidation I glanced back at my turquoise eyed sister. "Howe…? Are you…? Are you a SHIP?" Her face darkened, the same as mine did whenever I thought of my sinking.

"What happened?"

"Wolf pack," was all she said, as Kay took over explaining with a sad look.

"The first torpedo jammed her rudder and left her ciciling." She sighed, "Made her a sitting duck for at least a half dozen U-boats to come speeding over."

"Bollocks." I muttered, "I'm sorry Howe."

She just shook her head. "'S'okay."

There was an awkward silence for a moment or two before Kay spoke again with a small grin. "So! A Captain huh? How's command treating you, 'Captain Windsor'?"

Thankful for the change in subject, I gave a small smile. "It's an adjustment. It's mostly just destroyer wrangling so far. I haven't gotten into a proper fight with seven-niner yet, though we were at the Coral Sea."

Howe's eyes lit up, "That was in the newspaper a month back! It said how you'd valiantly defended the carriers against the Japs."

I rolled my eyes. "Fat lot of good that did. They both got completely buggered. Lotta boys went down with Lexi and York."

"Oh… Well… Yeah." She spoke, before lighting up again, "But you did great at Makassar Strait, and Java Sea. And Bali Strait."

I blinked in surprise at the sudden change in my little sister's behaviour. A quick glance at Kay showed her thoroughly enjoying my confused look. Turning back to Howe I spoke, "I just did what any of you would've done. We're battleships after all."

Howe shook her head. "No way. I'd be too scared. But you're fearless!"

"Fearless?" I stared at her incredulously. "Fearless? Not even sodding close. Every time I sound my action stations alarm. Every time I sight the enemy. Every time I'm in the thick of battle, with shells flying…" I sighed, mind going back to all those battles. "I was fucking terrified. Anyone who's been in combat and says otherwise is either a loony, or a liar. You just can't let it control you."

I glanced up to see Howe's eyes wide, and Kay nodding in agreement. "Don't be so eager to throw yourself into the fire, Howe." Kay spoke, "With Wales you're going to see more action than you could ever want. She attracts it like flies."

"God, I wish I didn't." I muttered back, and took a good long sip of wine.

"Me too." Kay chuckled, "I'd worry less. I'll be gray before the end of the war at this rate."

I gave her a deadpan sidelong glance. "That's not even how that works for us."

She playfully swatted my shoulder. "Oh shush you."

I chuckled, and took another sip. "Have you seen Repulse recently? Or Duke?"

Kay nodded. "Saw Repulse about a month ago in Alexandria. She's been working with the eastern Med fleet. Last I heard she was helping the Eighth Army stonewall the Afrika Korps at El Alamein."

"And Duke?"

Kay grinned, "She was Vestal's guinea pig for her new refit procedure for SHIPs. She got all new engines, custom made turrets for her barbettes with some of those new American 12-inchers, and then loaded her with QF four-point-sevens, bofors and Oerlikons. Oh, and they gave her an insane amount of bunk space allocated to the marines, with armouries to match. So now she's got two bloody companies of the little buggers running around speaking in 'oi'."

I blinked. "Jesus. Where is she now?"

Kay shrugged, "Buggered if I know. Her deployments have been all hush-hush, top secret."

"Huh."

"Huh, indeed." She muttered, taking another sip. "So, what was all that Repulse mentioned about you being a reincarnate?"

My eyes widened. That was what she wanted to talk about? "I thought that was supposed to be classified."

"It is." She nodded, "But seeing as I'm your big sister, Repulse saw fit to tell me. So how does that work? You still seem to be the same..."

"Well…" I started, frantically trying to figure out what to say, "When I was launched, I didn't have any of my last life's memories. But my personality was still the same? So… I was still me. I don't know what Repulse told you, but we both got those memories back when we sank and became SHIPs. As I said, I was still the same, so… they didn't change too much."

Kay just gave a slow nod. "Huh. Okay. Anything else?"

"Not that I wish to discuss now, no." I replied, trying to make it very clear I didn't want to dwell on that.

Kay, the ever gracious older sister shrugged. "Alright. Anything to add, Howe?"

Our younger sister shook her head, "But… Do you have any good war stories, Wales?"

I chuckled at her eagerness. "What do you want to hear?"

"What happened at Java Sea?"

"Well, we'd all sortied to intercept a troop convoy…"

 

[LtRainbowSlash]

Chapter 38: Take it Easy

Being in New York that summer was like being on vacation. The war that I'd spent the last six months fighting seemed like nothing more than a distant bad dream. Seeing Kay again for the first time in half a year and finally meeting Howe was the icing on top. Unfortunately, Kay was only in for a week of repairs and refits, so we had to make the most of our limited time together.

JULY 15 1942
1958 HOURS

Unfortunately, Wales had a bit too much to drink later on that night, which rather messed with her memory, so as any older sister would I shall continue the story in her stead.

A couple hours of drinking and catching later found us three KGVs walking down the street towards the hotel where Wales was staying. Wales led, while Howe and I followed her. Our littlest sister was a curious one. She'd been asking Wales about one thing or another for the last while. Her newest line of questioning was about her new task force mates. "Are they nice?"

Wales shrugged as she walked, "They're like any group of spirits. They're all good girls, but some of them are nicer than others. And we're here."

We'd arrived outside an eight story hotel in downtown Brooklyn, a ten minute stroll from the dockyard. Howe's face had lit up. "I'm staying here too."

Wales glanced back at her, "Oh? What floor?"

She pointed up at the top floor. "Eighth. They put me up in one of the big fancy suites."

Wales blinked, "Really? How big are they?"

"Three rooms." Howe replied, counting off her fingers. "Bathroom, bed room, and a big lounge type room with a small kitchenette."

"Lucky girl. The lounge big enough to play host to thirteen?"

"I think so." I couldn't help but enjoy listening to my two sisters talk. Weird I know, but just an hour before, Howe had been a stuttering mess who couldn't look Wales in the eye without fangirling. Now she was holding an easy conversion with her older sibling.

Oh how I looked forward to getting all five of us in one place one day.

Irrespective of my thoughts, Wales continued, "In that case, shall we invite the rest of seven-niner up? I'd love to introduce both of you."

I have a 'go ahead' gesture, "By all means." While Howe nodded, excited at the prospect of meeting 'war heros'.

With a nod, Wales began to speak, both from her mouth, and over the radio. "Oi! Seven Niner! You awake girls?"

"Yea Wales" an Australian accented voice replied. "What do ya need mate? Houston, Boise and I were just sharin' a stubby."

Wales began to walk into the lobby, glancing back at us. "What room, Howe?"

"Eight-oh-five." she responded, quickly.

With a nod, Wales headed for the elevator, now speaking over the radio without actually speaking verbally. I hadn't even known we could do that. "Round up everyone and head up to eight-oh-five. There are some people I'd like you to meet."

"You got it boss. See ya' in five."

A quick request for four bottles of wine to be brought up at the front desk, and a short elevator ride found us entering Howe's suite. And when she'd said it was a 'big fancy suite', she'd meant it. The lounge we found ourselves in was quite spacious, and solidly upper class with several sofas, seats and short coffee tables.

At least, I thought it was rather fancy and upper class. Despite the 'royal' act both Wales and I usually put on, neither of us had actually ever seen upper class housing. I doubted Wales had lived in anything other than on base housing since she'd been sunk, and I was still hullbound, and lived on my hull for all intents and purposes. In fact, since I was my own XO, I actually had my own XO's cabin. It was nice, actually. A little space on my physical body that belonged to no one but me. I'd actually collected a few things now that I was physical, such as several outfits, a record player, and a few trinkets. Not to mention my letter collection. I kept every single one I received. And now that we were all physical, us spirits exchanged lots of letters.

Either way, the three of us were soon seated around the room. I turned to Wales where she was sitting on one of the sofas. "So, how do you find working with the yanks?"

"I've no complaints." My younger sister shrugged, "I get along well with Houston and Boise, and the Sims are no different from the E's. Only hiccup is that Houston is a bit racist, so I'm trying to help her get past that."

My brow furrowed, "How so?"

Wales made a small 'you know' gesture. "The usual. Slurs, and treating anyone not white like they're rubbish."

I blinked, honestly confused. "How do you mean?"

Wales just sighed, "Alright, look. In the 2000's, treating someone differently for their skin color and race was very frowned upon. And I agree with that. Hell, racist assumptions directly contributed to me getting sunk! It drives me nuts how bloody normal it is for everyone now. It's disgusting."

For a moment, I just sat there, mulling over her words. I will fully admit, at the time I was still quite the imperialist, and the idea that whites were not innately superior was preposterous. But I could tell how strongly my sister felt about such things, and decided I didn't want an argument to stain our short time together. I felt she was wrong, but such a belief was rather harmless.

So instead I said, "I see," and let the conversation rest, though only for a moment. But before I could say anything more, a knock came from the door.

"Come in!" Howe yelled.

A moment later one of the hotel's attendants entered the room, carrying our wine bottles on a small cart. He soon placed them down on the kitchenette counter. "Your wine, madam."

"Thank you." My little sister replied, and then he was gone. All three of us turned back to each other to continue our conversation a moment later, only to again hear another knock.

"Come in!"

This time, the newcomers were obviously the SHIPs of TF79. Wales' face lit up, "Hello girls."

"Hey Wales." The blond woman in the lead responded with a light Texan drawl. "Who's got the fancy suite?"

Wales just kept smiling, and gestured to us as she spoke. "Girls, I'd like to introduce you to my sisters, King George the Fifth and Howe."

I gave a small wave as Wales reciprocated to them, "Howe, Kay, this is my fleet." She began to point to the individual members, "My second, Houston."

"Hey."

"Light cruisers Boise and Perth."

"Hello."

"G'day."

"You know the E's and Jup already. And the three Sims: Sims herself, Hammann, and Anderson."

"A pleasure to meet you all." I replied, "I hope you've been taking good care of my little sister?" Wales just rolled her eyes as a few of the girls chuckled. "Please, have a seat, settle in. We've two bottles of wine to get through. And please, call me Kay."

The ten were quick to oblige me, most of the girls finding seats on the big comfy looking chairs or sofas, while Perth grabbed the wine and glasses for us from the kitchenette.

"You didn't tell us your sisters were in town, Wales." Houston spoke as she settled down.

My sister just shrugged, "I didn't know either, until and hour and a bit ago."

"Neither did we." I added. "Though the timing worked out nicely."

Wales nodded, "Odds are John knew, but wanted to surprise me."

I glanced at her in surprise. Wales was on a first name basis with a man? "John?"

She actually blushed a little bit. It seemed the alcohol was getting to her already. "Sorry, Captain Leach."

I let a questioning eyebrow rise. "You are aware of the new fraternization regulations the Admiralty put out a month ago?"

Wales blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, before blushing even more. "What?! Ewww, no! God no! It's not like that! He's like a father to me! Besides, he's married with grown children already!" I almost believed her. Almost. It must've shown on my face too. "Damnit Kay! I'm serious!"

I rolled my eyes. She was just in denial. Nonetheless, I changed the topic. "So, are you going to give your fleet the good news Wales?"

"Oh, right!" And now she was upbeat again, just like that. Wales was definitely starting to get drunk. "Girls, Howe has been assigned to our fleet."

Every single one of the girls perked up, before turning to Howe who was trying to make herself as small as possible under the attention.

"Great!" Boise was the first to reply, "I ain't gonna say no to a second battleship."

Perth chuckled from where she was now pouring everyone their drinks. "Yea' mate! Another bullet sponge. Less fire aimed at us!" she joked.

From there, things devolved into several casual conversions. I soon found the E's and Jupiter had ended up around me. I gave them a grin. "Long time no see. How have you girls been?"

"Up and down." Jupiter was the one who replied, "Being visible is great, but it's been a hard seven months."

"I bet." I replied, "You girls have seen a lot of action."

"Yup!" Electra cut in, "The DEI was a lotta' fun. More targets than we knew what to do with."

I found myself glancing over at my younger twin, who was happily chatting with Houston and Howe, wine glass in hand and already half empty. "How has Wales done?"

"She's awesome." Express said, "The Japs beat the 'ell outta 'er, and she just kept goin'. You KGVs are built tough. Aside from the screw thing that sank 'er at least."

"Oh, they're planning on modifying my shaft seals the next time I need extensive yard work to hopefully prevent something similar." I replied, "I read Wales' report though. The engine crew could've prevented fatal damage by immediately shutting down the shaft, but they didn't know. With an active spirit though, we can just pop down there and yell at the crew. In fact, I believe that is exactly what happened to Howe when she was torpedoed."

"That what you're in the yard for, Kay?" Jupiter asked.

I shook my head, "No. I took an Italian torpedo on my TDS. I'm only in for a week while they patch that up, and bolt some AA guns on my deck."

Jupiter nodded sagely, much to my amusement. "Can never have too much flak."

---

About half an hour later I found myself in the kitchenette pouring myself another glass of wine when Houston came over. I held up the bottle. "Wine?"

"Yes, please." The American replied, setting her own glass down on the counter for me to fill.

"How's Wales doing as a flagship?" I asked idly as I began to fill her glass.

A response was long in coming, and Houston thought about what to say. "She's good. Great even. I don't think there's an officer in the world with as much experience going gun to gun." She smirked, "Except me of course. And Admiral Hart."

My eyes narrowed, "Do you want her spot?"

The cruiser scoffed, "Calm down momma bear. No thanks. I'm happy playing XO. Or technically third in command, I guess. Dunno if I could live with myself if we lost anyone under my command. I'm happy to follow her lead. I know she won't steer us wrong. She's a natural leader…"

"But?" I prodded, knowing the negatives were coming next.

She sighed, "But she's not perfect. She's far too kind. She usually lets the destroyers get off a lot lighter than she should. I don't think she could sacrifice any of us, even if it was utterly necessary. And… If she had to look into the enemy's eyes, I don't think she could pull the trigger. She sees everyone's humanity. She's… Not going to be the same person when this is all said and done."

I winced, "That's what I was afraid of."

Houston put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "Don't worry too much. I'll do my best for her." She glanced over at my younger sister, a fond look on her face, "She's a hell of a battleship, and a good friend."

I smiled back. "That you, Houston. It's good to know you girls will be looking out for her."

---

A few minutes later we'd rejoined the group, Houston telling me of some of Wales' more embarrassing moments. A big sister can never have too much ammunition after all. But, a moment later we were interrupted by a shout from Wales.

"Welllllll then he's an asshole!" I glanced over in confusion. Said confusion quickly cleared up when I noted her rosy cheeks, and dopey look. She was drunk.

I still found myself asking, "Who's an asshole?"

"God!"

"What?"

My little sister grinned, and raised her hand as if dispensing sage advice. "God doooooesn't exist, cause if he does, he's aaaaa dick! Like, if he exists, he took me, who'd been a good person, and believed, and went to church and all that shit, and instead of sending me to heaven, he dumped me here, in this body, though being a battleship is actually pretty awesome, in the middle of this fucking war! Therefore the Christian god doesn't exist, cause he's supposed to be nice, and if someone actually dumped me here on purpose, they're an asshole! But I'm pretty sure it's just a fluke, so meh."

I blinked. "Are you an atheist then?"

"Yes! …Wait, no! Agnostic!" Yup, Wales was very drunk. "Cause I don't belive in anything, but I know we don't know shit cause we're actually fucking magicial girls. Heh. Magical Sparkly Shipgirls… Waddabout you Kay?"

"Lay off the drinks Wales, you've had enough." I chuckled, "But to answer your question, I suppose I'm an atheist. I've never really followed a religion."

"Christ, we got a bunch of heathens in the room." Houston spoke, only to chuckle at our horrified looks. "Kidding, I'm actually agnostic too."

Perth joined in laughing. "The walking talking Texan stereotype isn't religious? Who knew?" She shrugged, "For me, I'd say I'm a casual anglican."

"Me too." Jupiter muttered.

"Us as well." Encounter answered for her sisters.

"Cathloic here." Boise offered her two cents.

"Same." Anderson spoke. "Pretty sure Hammann is too, and Sims is agnostic." Both her sisters nodded.

"That's pretty interesting Wales." Boise spoke again. "I suppose being a reincarnate would give you different ideas on all that shit."

"Yuuuuup," Wales slurred, "And I mean, even if Christianity is riiiiight, we're all goin' ta' hell anyway. 'Thou shalt not kill.' Pretty damn sure we have a thousand bodies or so between everyone in this room."

"Shit, way to bring the mood down, Wales." Anderson muttered, a guitar now in her hands as she began to mess around.

Houston seized the opportunity to change the subject. "Do you know any songs, Andie?"

"Uh, yeah. A few…" The destroyer perked up, "Actually, you girls mind if I try something?"

Everyone just shrugged. Anderson took that as an 'okay', and several of her fairies appeared, carrying instruments of their own. One had a small drum set, while another had a base, and two others had guitars.

"HA!" Wales' sudden laugh caught everyone's attention. "Do you have a name for your band?" Andie shook her head. "Great! Here's one! 'Andie and the Fairies'!"

That got a round of chuckles. "That's actually a pretty good band name." Boise added.

"So, whatcha gonna play sis?" Hammann asked.

Anderson grinned. "It's a song from one of the records Wales gave me. Sing along, if you can Wales."

With that they started playing. After a short intro Andie began singing.

"Well, I'm a-running down the road, tryin' to loosen my load~! I've got seven men on my mind~"

Wales' face lit up in recognition the moment the destroyer had begun singing, and joined in.

"Four that wanna own me, two that wanna stone me, one says he's a friend of mine~
Take it eaaaaaasy~ Take it eaaaaasy~
Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy~
Lighten uuuuuup while you still can, don't even try to understand, just find a place to make your stand~!
And take it eaaaaaaaasy~!"

Andie had a great singing voice, high and clear. Wales… Not so much, but she wasn't as bad as I often joked she was. Her deeper voice actually complimented Andie's quite well, and even drunk she could hold a tune. But she still was only an average singer at best. Nonetheless, the two exchanged grins, and continued.

"Well, I'm a-standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see~!
It's a boy, my Lord, in a flat-bed Ford, slowin' down to take a look at me~
Come on, baaaaaaaby~!
Don't say "Maaaaaaybe"~!
I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me~
We may loooooose and we may win~!
But we will never be here again, so open up, I'm climbin' in~
So take it eaaaaaaasy~!"

 

[Gosu]

DECEMBER 13 1941
1014 HOURS
SCAPA FLOW

Iron Duke teleported herself on board the King George V, flagship of the Home Fleet. The modern battleship was anchored near the destroyer tender Tyne and the old yacht-turned-calibration vessel Maria Joao while technicians worked on improvements to her surface search radar.

Standing on the quarterdeck Duke looked around, but didn't find the ship's spirit. Maria Joao saw her looking around and the spirit jumped over as well to help her find her missing daughter. "Kay is inside her admiral's dining room. It's quiet and out of the way at this time of day."

"Thanks Maria," the old battleship answered, "How is she holding up?"

The spirit with good looks and an indeterminate age shrugged, her tone lacking her usual mischievous lilt. "As well as you'd expect, under the circumstances."

Leaving the other spirit behind, Duke walked into the aft superstructure and went down to the main deck, then made her way aft to the admiral's suite. As the closest person the battleship had to a mother, she wanted to be there for Kay as she came to terms with the death of her sister Wales a few days ago, far away in the East Indies. She found the battleship in the admiral's dining room, brooding over a map showing Singapore and the bordering South China Sea.

"Hello Kay. How are you doing?" Startled, the other battleship looked up. Her eyes, so much like Duke's own, were redder than usual and there were bags under them. The younger spirit took a deep breath.

"I miss her terribly, but I'll be all right. I hope that I get send to the East at some point so I can shoot some of those bastards up myself."

Duke took the seat next to Kay, trying to find the right words for the grieving spirit, but shouting from the admiral in the office next to where they were sitting interrupted them.

"I'm not in the mood for ghost stories! What is the Admiralty thinking, sending you all the way here to tell me that Repulse and Prince of Wales did sink, but are now walking around as ghost women?"

The voice of some unfortunate officer answered with an undertone of apology and frustration. "Yes admiral that is the much same reaction we in London had when we received word from Admiral Layton. However, it was followed with reports from Admiral Spooner and other commands down there basically telling us that they had not gone funny in the head and that they all saw it."

There was a silence from the next compartment, but apparently admiral Tovey was managing to get his disbelief across without using his voice. His visitor quickly expanded on what the Admiralty was thinking.

"Admiral Layton claims he has already dispatched a courier with film footage by aircraft, and everyone in Singapore keeps telling us that all the ships there now have a ghost spirit appearing where she wants. If it's a delusion as one would suspect, it is one affecting the entire East Indies Fleet as a whole. You can see how it is a bit of a concern however it turns out."

The two spirits listening incredulously heard a frustrated sound as the commander in chief of the Home Fleet reluctantly digested the reasoning of the Admiralty.

"Ghostly women, they all said?"

"Yes admiral, looking mostly human but dressed in, ah, in what admiral Spooner called a varied but typically eccentric manner. Though he did mention that there seems to be a range of unusual coloring among some of them. The ghost of the Prince of Wales, for example, is said to have ruby red eyes."

Kay and Duke looked at each other, at the ruby red eyes in the others face, something they both shared with Wales. The two spirits spoke up in chorus.

"What."



DECEMBER 17 1941
1845 HOURS
SCAPA FLOW

Admiral Tovey watched footage of women walking on water and opening up with heavy artillery, while some younger ones appeared and disappeared from the camera without moving inbetween. Little crew sprites sometimes appeared and then disappeared again. With him in the compartment was part of his staff and a liaison officer from the Admiralty. And unseen to them, an even larger number of spirits – Duke, Kay, Victorious, various cruisers, destroyers and auxiliaries, as many as could fit themselves into the space.

"That's Wales and Repulse" Duke said, "and Express jumping in and out. On film and visible to humans. It's true, then."

"It's true, then" echoed someone unknowingly on the staff. "Unless the East Indies Fleet as a whole is rushing trick footage here to play a prank in the middle of the war."

As casual as they could, some of the staff members looked around the ship's cinema, silently wondering how private this meeting truly was. After a moment, Admiral Tovey looked to his side, where the commander sat who had couriered the footage from London. "What is the Admiralty planning about this?"

The liaison officer collected his thoughts and answered. "The Prime Minister's transport group is turning around, he is postponing his meeting with President Roosevelt. The official excuse will be bad weather, which is believable as the storm forced them to detour so far South they're near the Azores instead of America. Duke of York and her escort should be back here a few days before Christmas."

At Tovey's nod, he continued. "The, ah, phenomenon needs a visible, uh, ghost, to carry it further, so spirit activations are spreading outward from Singapore at the speed of the fastest ship." He explained. "Admiral Cunningham is planning to send a fast force from Alexandria to Gibraltar past the Italians immediately after the effect reaches him. At that rate, it should reach the Home Fleet here somewhere in early January."

Duke stood up, having heard enough for now. "Well, I better tell everyone else. I promised I would let them know soonest once we knew for sure." With that, she blinked herself to the quarterdeck. Despite it being December in Scapa, the deck was packed with dozens of spirits that hadn't fit into the room but were all waiting to hear the news directly from the mother of the battleship force. Not that anyone minded the cold today.



JANUARY 4 1942
1315 HOURS
SCAPA FLOW

Half the ward room on the King George V and its ante-room had been cordoned off and was kept free of humans. In the other half a film crew had set up a camera, and a number of admirals and other dignitaries were sitting, waiting for what was to come. In the center were admirals Tovey and Pound, both of them flanking a corpulent man holding a cigar.

Inside the reserved area, Duke stood next to Kay and her sister Duke of York, who would once more depart for the United States with the Prime Minister on board later today, whatever would happen this afternoon in Scapa Flow. The war didn't stop for anyone.

Admiral Tovey, looking like he had trouble taking himself seriously talking to what looked like thin air, had asked his flagship yesterday to gather all spirits there for their activation. And come they had. Every spirit in the Home Fleet that was within five miles had assembled, from the flagship down to the small anti-submarine trawlers, drafted into the navy for the duration of the war.

"I wonder what some of them are thinking," Kay mused, looking at the dignitaries, "a few look like they are expecting evil spirits to appear and drag them to the bottom of the Sound".

"Hush, now. It's a big change that's happening", Duke replied, "and despite Maria's antics now and then we have never heard of a plague of undead spirits".

"Awright ya lot, ya ready?" came the Scottish accented voice of Napier over the radio. "I'll come round in a minute". Duke sighed internally. She knew Napier could speak without laying on the accent so much, but well, she was a destroyer.

At the same time, Captain Patterson took a message from one of his crew, and turned towards his superior. "That was the bridge, admiral. Napier is less than six miles out from here, so one way or another we'll get to the bottom of this soon." Tovey nodded, but the First Sea Lord snorted.

"It's preposterous," Admiral Pound said, "It's all a joke in bad taste. I still don't believe in ghost stories."

Napier's voice answered him from one of the corners, where she had appeared just in time to hear the comment. "Better start believing then sir, cause you're in one".

Everyone looked at the girl who had appeared out of thin air. Like most destroyers, she looked not yet old enough to be out of school. She had green-blue eyes, was wearing an outfit that looked like a cross between a dress and a sailor's uniform, and had a bicorn hat sitting on top of her reddish hair.

Silence fell, with everyone waiting to see who was going to speak up first. That turned out to be Churchill himself, after he gave a sign for the camera crew to get to work.

"The world has truly changed, in a way that will make even this large war look like a mere stage when historians look back a few decades from now. While wars come and go, there will always be a divide in time, between the era before December the tenth, 1941, and the era after that. Between the era of only humans, and the era of humans and their ships."

He looked around, at the admirals staring at the ship spirit, and at Napier, who was fidgeting a bit under the intense scrutiny.

"Young miss, we have asked the spirits of the Home Fleet to assemble here today. We don't know if they have done so, but I have learned that you can tell us."

Napier looked into the seemingly empty, cordoned area. "Oh yes sir, you can't tell yet, but this whole space is packed with 'em. Looks like they're all here". At least, Duke figured, they could be thankful that the destroyer was laying off her exaggerated accent for this occasion.

"Then," the Prime Minister asked, "if you will reveal them to us?"

Napier nodded, and walked to a table where someone had helpfully placed a few books and other odds and ends. Coming closer, she saw that the books were in fact bibles.

"Using bibles for this made the officers of Force H at Gibraltar a bit more at ease," she commented, "seeing as how me and me sisters didn't burst into flames when touching them." And then she handed one to Kay, and another to Duke.

Duke accepted the book, and for the first time ever, she could touch something from the material world without it dropping through her hand. From the other side of the room came short intakes of breath, and she realized that she was now visible to everyone. She gave Kay a short look and nodded. It was her hull and she was the flagship, she got the honor of talking first.

"Greetings sirs, I am the spirit of HMS King George V", she said next to her. Then it was her turn.

"And I am HMS Iron Duke." With that she passed to bible to Victorious, while at the same time Kay passed hers to her sister Duke of York. And so it went down the entire line of spirits, all of them becoming visible to the human personnel.

The latter now understood what admiral Spooner meant when he mentioned eccentricities, what with the fleet tug HMS Bandit using a scarf tied before her mouth and mangling her 'fleet tug' designation into 'fleet thug' . Or the Bouvet quadruplets of the 101st minesweeper group, looking like four identical and cute as a button ten year olds, dressed like fishermen with the only way to keep them apart the number on their coats. But they insisted on carrying around old style and very sharp whaling harpoons everywhere because, they claimed, they were whaling boats only temporarily taken up for service as minesweepers.



FEBRUARY 11 1942
0850 HOURS
SCAPA FLOW

HMS Iron Duke had made her final voyage. Everything salvageable was stripped off her hull in the previous weeks, and now, after being towed one last mile, she was scuttled and settling deeper into the water.

And that was fine for the spirit Iron Duke, because she knew that when her hull went down, she could step off it and be free to sail the seas again, and take the fight to the enemy. Even if the opening of her sea cocks and the resulting rush of cold water into her lower hull gave her existential shivers. Not to mention a cold, deathly feeling in her legs that slowly crept upwards as her hull sank lower.

She sat down on her deck for a moment, and then suddenly, the sensations of her hull sinking disappeared. Duke looked around in surprise, then realized what had happened. She stood up, waved to the ships witnessing her sinking, and walked down her upper deck one last time. Coming at the edge nearest the rising waterline, she made the final small jump towards the sea below.

And she stood on the water. Then, slowly, she started moving – skating, or walking, or steaming? – towards the others. Reveling in her freedom, and health, and enjoying the presence of her guns agai – wait one.

WHERE WERE HER GUNS? All she had was additional bunks and empty store rooms where her guns should be!