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Chapter Text

I walked down the halls to the situation room with a nagging sense of trepidation in the far corners of my mind. As if I didn't already have enough things to be completely confused by, all of the sudden I'd been summoned by the Admiral for a 'special operation.' When I asked him for more details, the usual 'wait for the briefing' was all that he had added.

What in the world was going on? Just a few weeks ago, my flotilla was out watching for Bismarck towards the northern swaths of ocean relative to England. When we returned, things were flipped upside down. Bismarck had been plucked out of the water, along with the rest of her force.

Even stranger, a peace deal of sorts had been arranged between them and the Allies, dulling severely the threat of a major Ironblood action at any point in the near future. Stranger still, I could've sworn I saw Prinz Eugen on her way into the building just when I got here.

She isn't coming with us is she, I questioned myself. Nothing about the situation felt at all like developments that could've possibly happened within a few weeks' time. Yet here we are.

Coming up on the doors, I slowed my pace until I eventually came to a full stop in front of them. Breathe in, breathe out.

Inwardly, I convinced myself I'd get my answers here. Laying a hand on the knob and turning it, the room beyond was pensive.

At the farthest end of the room stood Admiral Griffin Theodore, accompanied by Admiral Hodgings. They were engaged in a hushed but visibly serious conversation regarding the images displayed on the table in front of them. A map with rather large coverage, and a route snaking its way from our current location all the way up to – I squinted to see more clearly while yet closing the distance – Norway?

What could possibly be in Norway?

I wondered if the person to the left side of the table was evaluating the same question. Though, she probably wasn't. Prinz Eugen had a hand on her hip, chatting casually with a destroyer I couldn't recognize next to her, though they both still had care to modulate their volume.

Across the table, to my right, a destroyer I did recognize as Javelin stared at the German destroyer with an expression I would describe as yearning. She probably would've kept staring, too, had it not been for another somewhat familiar face, Vampire, tapping her shoulder and asking a question I couldn't make out.

The maid known as Charybdis stood in her own corner, standing silent and patient, no doubt keeping a watchful eye for any trouble.

Interestingly, it didn't seem as if she or anyone else had taken notice of me, even though I'd made no efforts to conceal my entrance. It was only when I got to the table that one more attendee finally took the initiative to acknowledge me.

From beside Javelin and Vampire, the battleship Howe looked up from gazing intently at the map and gave me an innocent wave of her hand, smiling happily as she did so.

Returning the friendly gesture, I nodded before finally deciding to announce my presence so that the briefing could get underway. "Good afternoon, Admiral. Apologies for being the last one here."

At last, the two senior officers halted their discussions. Prinz Eugen and her companion did likewise simultaneously, as did Javelin and Vampire. All eyes fell on me as Admiral Theodore replied, "Ah, good! No worries, the notice was rather short. Nonetheless, we can begin now."

Everyone nodded and he began the briefing. "As you no doubt know, we find ourselves in rather interesting circumstances. Joining us today are Prinz Eugen and Z23, straight from the Kriegsmarine. Good to have you, you two."

They nodded as we offered our greetings.

Admiral Theodore continued. "Also joining us today is a very skilled and capable officer who will be your overseeing and commanding officer for this operation. Everyone, this is Captain James Leighway," he gestured to me.

"Hello, captain." "Sir." "Herr Kapitän."

"Hello to you all," I replied.

"And Captain, I understand you've never worked with any of these people before, though I'm sure you recognize some of them," Theodore said before going through all the names. "This is Prinz Eugen and Z23 as mentioned; Javelin, Vampire, Charybdis, and Howe."

"I recognize them, indeed," I said. Save for Z23. Though I now know that she is, in fact, Z23.

"Perfect," Theodore grinned. "Now, with all that out of the way, we can discuss the nature of your operation." He keyed the map to zoom in for a finer view of Norway's waters. When it finished its positioning, Theodore pointed a finger at an island that lay at the end of the snaking route. "This is Håkøya Island, the site of the Tirpitz's wreck. Your mission here is to find, acquire, and emancipate Tirpitz herself. We are conducting this operation under personal request from Bismarck directly, as a proof-of-camaraderie of sorts between our two nations' navies."

The map shifted from an overhead view of the island and its surroundings to a diagram depicting the wrecked Tirpitz under the ocean. A red line from the water's surface winding down to the mighty ship's remains appeared. Thought bubbles popped up in my head as I wondered internally why those ruins were back there.

"Your task is not quite as convoluted as you may think. Tirpitz is not dead, merely imprisoned. To free her, the procedure is simple. Locate her cubes within the wreck and retrieve them. We will install a resonance chamber on the Howe so that it may be used to 'summon' her as if she were being constructed," Admiral Theodore explained.

It was here I needed to freeze things for a moment. "Okay, hang on." I got answers, alright. But somehow, they'd only branched into more questions. "There are a lot of problems," I chuckled dryly, causing some of them to snicker. "When do we start talking about them?"

Theodore furrowed a brow. "How do you mean?"

"Well," I scratched the back of my head. "To start, how do we know any of this?"

"Frau Bismarck has thought of this for a very long time," Prinz Eugen supplied. "We had people around the clock working to decipher the mystery of why Tirpitz vanished. Slowly, but surely, we chipped away at it. Unfortunately, by the time we had answers, we also had gun barrels shoved down each others' throats. At Bismarck's behest, the project had to be thrown to the wayside."

"And now that we have this peace deal going, we're willing to give it a try," I said, understanding. "What did they figure out? Why did she vanish?"

The cruiser's expression darkened in stark contrast to her more aloof demeanor from moments ago. "There was a point in time when Frau Bismarck was not herself. She had been reduced to a weapon of war by what we now know was Siren manipulation. Whether she knew what she was doing or not, she wagered her own sister for what she thought was protection," Eugen said gravely.

Everyone looked around at each other with similarly severe expressions. None of that sounded good.

"When the full weight of what she'd done crashed down on her, she submitted fully to Siren influence. We became puppets to puppeteers." Her amber eyes stewed with intensity. "The most ridiculous part is that most of us never even knew it. I can only imagine what it must've been like for her when Commander McConnell finally got it out of her."

I nodded at the name. Commander McConnell. The talk of the town. The officer who'd almost singlehandedly smoothed relations across Europe's navies. Or at least, he's on the track to doing so.

"Frau Bismarck divulged all of this to us after the major battle just a few days ago. I simply put the pieces I already knew together with the ones I didn't." She paused to retrace the trail of conversation before continuing. "Now, we can get to what happened to Tirpitz. When Bismarck bartered with the Siren, they imprisoned her within her own cubes. For whatever reason, this mechanism is linked to her cubes being in close proximity to the site of her original wreckage.

"We wondered why it suddenly reappeared. Of course, when a new shipgirl is constructed, their original hulls disappear from the ocean floor, rebirthed with new purpose. Given that, it didn't take long for us to deduce what happened. Now, to a degree beyond a reasonable doubt, we believe it possible to free Tirpitz from her prison by locking into her cubes' resonant state with a chamber, thus 'reengineering' her, in a sense," Eugen finished.

That was a lot to take in. My brain scrambled to make sense of it all. Thankfully, I think I got the gist of it. "Alright, alright, alright," I said. "So we find Tirpitz's cubes from her wreck, somehow reverse-construct her with the resonant chamber, thereby emancipating her from a Siren metaprison."

"That sounds about right," Eugen said.

"That sounds like a lot," Howe interjected. "Admiral, are you certain we're the best team for this? Surely you should send a more specialized unit instead."

"We don't know what we'd be sending them into," Hodgings replied.

"Well, we don't know what we're sending you into either," Theodore said, "But at least you're shipgirls, you can defend yourselves, and we have a few tricks up our sleeves that could help you deal with potential threats. But we'll get to those later."

"Right now, rest assured that you will be able to handle this mission's tasks. We will provide you with a specialized dive suit and the necessary equipment to search the wreck," Hodgings said confidently. "Unfortunately, this being specialized equipment, that means it's quite expensive. We can only afford one spared. Fortunately, it is a rather simple search operation if you think about it. All you need to do is follow the instructions to the letter, and you'll be alright."

"Sure," I said still rather apprehensive. "Can we discuss that?"

"All you need to do is pop into the suit once you've reached the site," Theodore began. "Descend to the wreck, search for the cubes – which should not be much of a challenge considering how bright those things glow – and resurface."

"You'll have full comms available to you while you're down there, as well as a heads-up display on the dive suit's helmet that'll tell you what's happening in real-time," Hodgings added. "You'll be secured via tether, so no need to worry about drifting away errantly."

"Unless the tether breaks. Now that will be quite the issue~," Eugen chipped lightly.

"Rest assured, we've tested to make sure that won't happen," Hodgings snappily replied.

"Has it been decided who will be descending?" Howe asked just before things could heat up between the two.

Clearing his throat, Theodore said, "We will leave that decision up to you either in the middle of your journey or once you arrive there. I think circumstance primarily will dictate who should shoulder that responsibility."

We nodded collectively.

"Admiral?" Javelin piped up next to Vampire.

"Yes?"

"Has there been a conclusive…what did you call it, Vampire?" She abruptly leaned in her friend's direction, half-whispering the query but still audible to anyone listening. The pale destroyer muttered something into Javelin's ear before they both stood straight once again and Javelin continued, "…threat assessment. Has there been a conclusive threat assessment of the mission's area?"

"That's what we touched on earlier," Hodgings supplied. "Unfortunately, not. We can surmise with a great degree of certainty, however, that it should be all clear. Our scouts haven't picked up on any strange activity or the assortment of phenomena associated with a Siren presence near Håkøya. At least, there aren't any yet."

The destroyers nodded uncertainly but didn't press the point. I suppose there wasn't much else they could contest. That answer was as clear as it would get.

"You're more likely to be attacked by Sakura forces than anything else," Theodore quipped.

That was surely meant to be a lighthearted hyperbole, but something about it rang like dark foreshadowing to my intuition.

"And if you do run into an unexpected situation, we've prepared a brand new whistle that's just been approved for field testing," Theodore added with a hint of satisfaction.

Z23 looked curious. "That whistle being?"

"We've come up with a new type of missile that could either be a massive success or a complete flop. But I am confident it will be the former."

"Missiles?" I blurted before anyone else could voice their similar reactions to the news. "I thought contemporary technology didn't mix too well with them?"

"We've found a way around it," Hodgings said. "See, recalibrating the isometrics of the installation matrix allows granular control of weapons slots like never before. This means that when we–,"

"Right, right, I don't think they need to know the fine details," Theodore halted the man before he could ramble on, causing the rest of us to snicker subtly.

Hodgings took the cue and slowly backed to his auxiliary stance, letting Howe ask the next question. "What exactly is this new missile, Admiral?"

Theodore grinned. "I am glad you asked."

Before us on the display, the map was wiped away and replaced with a three-dimensional cross-section of a Harpoon anti-ship missile. "As we all know, missiles typically explode in brilliant fireballs upon detonation in or on their target," Theodore said. "Our new variant doesn't have a very flashy show, but in our internal controlled experiments, it's proven equally lethal. Behold," he keyed for a new projectile I certainly hadn't seen before and went on, "The AcAShM-1 Buster."

Could use a better acronym, but I suppose that isn't necessarily the top priority. We leaned in for a closer look.

The shipgirls in the room had an almost childlike fascination on their faces, no doubt eager to find out who would get the chance to try out the new toy first. None of them had used armaments developed beyond the era of World War 2 – a quirk of the cubes, we theorized – let alone a weapon birthed from modern technology. Let alone a completely fresh-off-the-press, previously-only-seen-internally modern weapon.

I had some of that fascination on my own expression, doubtless, but with technical interest mixed in too. In the warhead, where the payload was contained, in place of explosive was…fluid.

"Okay, what's that in there, then?" I asked without looking up from the cross-section.

"That is acid," Hodgings said simply.

Oh. Slag me. I could immediately see where they were going with this. And though I doubted any acid could realistically eat through a ship's hull, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious enough to try. If the missile does work as intended, it could be very, very useful, adding another dimension to the as-yet rather one-dimensional nature of projectile warfare.

"This mission is getting rather exciting," Charybdis mused.

"Agreed," I replied. The maid looked at me with an innocent smile and nodded. "Who will be getting these new missiles, sir?" I asked, perhaps unintentionally on the girls' behalf. Their spiked interest in the response to the question was apparent as they looked between me and the admirals with keen anticipation.

"We've decided the most fitting would be the Charybdis for now. There are plans to expand compatibility with everyone else in the future, though," Hodgings said. "Until then, with our time allowance, one cruiser should be enough."

I nodded as everyone else, minus Howe, looked at Charybdis with just hints of jealousy.

"Well," Howe exhaled after a few more moments of deep thought. "I suppose, then, the final big question from here is when do we leave?"

Theodore nodded and keyed the display back to the map before lifting his timepiece to check it. "In three hours."

Alright, I thought dryly. "No way. An operation like this? We found out about this literal minutes ago. We still haven't planned for the whole route. How about contingencies? Engagement protocol? Emergency refueling? I don't even know who my flagship will be!"

"In time, Captain," Hodgings replied, trying – and failing – to calm my nerves.

"In three hours' time to be exact," Theodore said. "So, I suggest as soon as you're all dismissed from here, get talking about that plan. We can't push this back, unfortunately."

A million concerns swarmed, swirled, and clouded my mind. I looked intently at Admiral Theodore, then at Admiral Hodgings. My gaze then shifted to Prinz Eugen and Z23, who were both eyeing me with clear anticipation for a call. Charybdis was still standing polite and at the ready, face passive. Vampire had a strangely smug expression about her, whereas Javelin only had innocent expectation.

Howe had a look of encouragement in those green eyes as she smiled softly at me.

I suddenly felt a little something kick in my chest, but I paid it no mind. Must be the stress. "Yeah," I sighed. "Don't suppose we have an alternative. Everyone, we'll head to the lounge right as soon as we're dismissed to discuss. We'll spend the next hour and a half drawing up a plan. The next hour and a half will be allocated for you to rest, pack, and prepare. We'll be out of here by fifteen-hundred as you wish, Admiral."

The two officers nodded approvingly, Theodore grinning a little. "That's what I like to hear, Captain. Feel free to approach us if any questions arise in your discussions. Now, you are dismissed. Chip-chip! You have quite a bit of work to do."

"Yep," I said. "You all, with me."

It hadn't been ten minutes when we'd seated comfortably at a large and quiet table in the lounge hall of the building.

The space was perfect for groups, whether the function be professional or personal. The chamber's size was appreciable, not too big as to look regal, but not too small as to be cramped and stuffy. Our table was round, allowing everyone to maintain direct eye contact with anyone they so chose. Two correspondingly semicircular couches wrapped it, split down the middle to allow occupants to seat and vacate.

On the table lay an assortment of light snacks. It was just a little past lunch, but considering we might be here a while, the food would be inevitably necessary for some of us. A platter of cookies with milk, the trademark crumpets and tea, and a few sandwiches had been served to that end.

For my part, as opposed to snacks, on the table in front of me sat a laptop, a printed version of the mission brief, and a notebook.

"Okay, everyone," I began, rousing the group from the rather awkward silence we'd been sitting in. "I guess I should reintroduce myself a bit more properly this time. I am Captain James Leighway. I commanded a flotilla under Admiral Holland's fleet. We returned a few days ago when I was summoned here to work with you, and I have to say," I changed my tone gradually to something a little friendlier, "I never thought I'd get the opportunity to work with one of you, and it is an honor to get to do so now. Hopefully, I don't disappoint."

Some of them nodded. Others snickered.

Howe reassured me, "We're sure you won't, sir."

I gave her a little nod in return. "Thank you. Anyway, I don't want it disrupting our brainstorming session, so let's get this out of the way now. I need each of you to tell me your name and nickname or callsign. Then, tell us a little something about yourself! A random fact, some personality quirk I should know about, or anything of that sort. Javelin, would you care to start us off?"

"Hm? Me?" She put a hand on her chest uncertainly.

"Yep," I said.

"Oh. Uh…okay. Let's see," she thought for a moment. "Hello, everyone. I am Javelin, and Zed over here is my friend!"

I wondered for a split second who Zed could be when I traced Javelin's gaze to Z23 across the table. "Alright, thank you very much. Z23, if I may?"

"Jawohl, Kapitän," the girl replied dutifully. "I am Z23, though my nickname is Zed, and yes, I am alright with everyone here using it. I enjoy getting things done when they need to get done."

"Hear, hear," I nodded approvingly with a tinge of uneasiness before brushing it off and proceeding. "Let's move on to Prinz Eugen?"

"Yes," the cruiser cleared her throat coolly, sitting up in her part of the couch. "I am Prinz Eugen. You can call me Prinz if you're feeling lax. Prinzy is off the table," she joked with a light tone. "I may not be particularly fast or lethal, but I have other ways to be of support in a battle."

We nodded collectively before I proceeded onwards. "Thank you. Vampire?"

"Ah," the white-haired destroyer said. "Very well. I am the destroyer Vampire. I hath no fancy f'r the sunlight, but on contraire to popular belief, I doth not turneth to dust upon exposure to 't," she giggled.

As we snickered at the humor, I frowned slightly and stroked my chin. "I'm curious. Are you and York actually vampires, or do you just act like them?"

Vampire was not particularly willing to disclose that piece of information just yet. "Yond is the questioneth, isn't it," she teased.

"Right," I said unconvinced. Guess not. "Charybdis, if you please?"

"Certainly!" The maid twittered. "I am light cruiser of the Dido-class, Charybdis! You can call me Chary – some of the others in the Corps call me Cherry – and I enjoy shooting planes out of the sky and sending them blazing to the ocean floor!"

The surprisingly morbid twist and her otherwise pleasant tone provided a comical juxtaposition I couldn't help but chuckle at softly. "Thank you," I grinned. "And, last but certainly not the least?"

"Yes," she cleared her throat. "I am Howe, of the King George V-class. My name has a single syllable, so I would be concerned if you still needed a compacted form for it. One thing about me…," she hummed softly. "I like to bake!"

"Nice," I said. With introductions done, the ice should be softened up enough to allow for a cohesive group brainstorming session. As it so happens, that is exactly what we need right now. "It's good to meet all of you. Hopefully, we get the chance to warm up a little more as our mission progresses. Speaking of, let's hop onto that."

They all nodded and sat up at the ready to listen.

"According to this brief, the essential apparatuses are all already being installed on the Howe. In the interests of convenience and efficiency, that makes you my flagship," I began.

Howe smiled brightly. "I am honored."

"Now, let's think about formations. Vampire, Javelin, you're our two forward destroyers, so you'll be on the wings, scouting ahead and to the sides on occasion. Charybdis, since you're an anti-air type person, you can stay close and portside to Howe, who is centered in the formation. Z23, you'll bring up the rear. Prinz, you'll screen Howe to the starboard side. Does this work for everyone?"

A chorus of affirmatives allowed me to continue.

"The trip should be light, easy, and breezy. We'll make our way through and out of English waters, and go north, north, north, all the way until we reach our destination. From there, it's a little convoluted as the waters are tight, but once we accomplish our task, it's back from whence we came. I estimate the whole trip should take us close to two weeks." I looked around at them as they listened intently and nodded.

Javelin and Vampire hushed something between themselves again. Prinz Eugen and Z23 both shrugged, finding nothing else to complain about regarding the plan. Charybdis was leaned close to Howe, who had produced a notebook and was jotting down the mission details.

"I can give you a copy of the brief if you want," I offered her.

Howe paused her writing and shook her head. "Oh, it's alright, sir. I find that I retain information much easier when I write it down myself."

I nodded understandingly. "Okay, okay. I get it. Does anyone else have any questions?"

Prinz Eugen propped a hand up and I gestured for her to speak her mind. "Say we run into a threat. Fight or flight?"

"Flight," I said decisively. "If we have the numbers and ample space for confrontation, then we can probably fight them off. But in the more likely case that we get sprung and outdone, the protocol will be to get out of there ASAP."

"That's relieving to hear," Javelin chuckled nervously.

"Also understandable," Howe surmised. "We don't know if Tirpitz will be capable of fighting when we pull her out. She could be completely incapacitated for all we know."

I clicked my fingers at her reasoning. "Precisely. If we get in a fight, we're fighting with a hand tied behind our backs. That's not exactly an advantageous position to be in."

"No, it is not," Vampire mused quietly.

"Any other questions?"

They all shook their heads.

"Alright. If an unexpected situation comes up during the journey," I added, "Say, we get attacked by an Ironblood detachment or what have you, just stay calm and wait for my orders. I honestly don't have the best grasp on the situation out there right now, but I know Ironbloods shouldn't be shooting at Ironbloods. We'll defend ourselves with force as a last resort. In general, situations will be handled on a case-by-case basis given our mission circumstances. Understood?"

"Understood!"

"Good. Rest, recuperate, and prepare. We'll meet down at the port by 1400 to get everything set. If a concern comes up, then you'll find me in my office. Dismissed."

"We copy. Fair winds and following seas. Good hunting to you, Captain," the controller bade.

"Thank you." I nodded for Howe to close the connection, which she did promptly. "Though we're not exactly hunting in that sense, are we?"

She giggled while stepping away from the console to take in the scenery outside the viewport. "Not in that sense, no. Though technically, we are hunting for Tirpitz. If not to eliminate or capture her, then to bring her back."

"So, it's a search & rescue, not a hunt," I said with a tight smirk.

"Touché," she replied.

We fell silent as I scanned the ocean's horizon. Some people are really meant to stay on land. My aunt, for instance. She'd constantly nag me and my father, 'What's so appealing about being on the water?' It made sense that there'd be a segment of the population not so willing to be on the open waters and a segment that feels more at home without the solid ground beneath their feet.

Though dad and I both stood confidently in the realm of that second segment, I've been more uncertain recently. I usually liked being out here for a handful of weeks on end. The sound of waves crashing onto the hull soothes the ear, the sight of the skies – clear or cloudy – always lent wonderful atmospheres to an otherwise monotone job, and the sense of camaraderie sailors developed spending so much time out here was always worth the struggle in large part.

Yet, for the past few months, a nagging feeling started to claw at me. A nagging feeling that I wasn't doing enough that was draining any motivation to get the more menial brick & mortar work done. It was most apparent in my paperwork. I'd barely cleared the rest of my backlogged final reports from last week's return trip, yet I still had one more paper to file for it. And then there were the unfamiliar mission documents that I now needed to get myself acquainted with as overseeing officer of this fleet.

Usually, these would be non-issues. I'd get the work done in a focused and intricate way, meeting all the deadlines promptly and with quality output. Much like the very unusual situation I faced now, though, that focus had been sapped out of me. The most frustrating part is that I could not understand why.

"Captain?" Howe asked, pulling me out of my rumination.

"Hm?"

"I'm curious. What do you think of us?"

I furrowed a brow. "What do you mean?"

"You mentioned earlier that you'd never gotten the opportunity to work with my…kind before, so I'm just wondering if you feel about us differently from your average sailor," she explained.

"Ah," I nodded. "Well, that's quite obvious, isn't it? There aren't ten men per square foot trudging about this ship every minute, nor are there the shouts and calls of lookouts like I'm used to. There isn't a lot of loud laughter radiating from neither the quarters nor the galley. There isn't a drunken brawl breaking out between troublemakers. Yes, it's different. And by extension, that means I do feel differently about you from the average sailor."

She nodded, her green eyes glinting.

"But don't take that as a bad thing," I continued. "That simply means it's a new experience I'll have to get used to. And who knows? If I perform well enough here, I may even be assigned to you guys indefinitely."

"You wouldn't miss the old life?" She tilted her head playfully.

"A little bit. Maybe this is just a 'honeymoon phase' of sorts, and eventually, I'll say 'Well, this completely blows,'" I snickered sardonically. "But right now, I quite fancy the solitude."

Looking ahead, the Javelin and Vampire cruised along leisurely, though they still remained alert to deal with any threats that might spring up from the waters. To either side of us, the Charybdis, Prinz Eugen, and Z23 did much the same.

"I think I get it," Howe nodded before I could say something more. "There's a calming touch to it when there's only a handful of us for miles on end, no one else to really interrupt or butt into whatever it is we're doing."

"Nailed that," I replied. "Which also means there's more opportunity for that handful of people to get to know each other. I know that I might not seem like the most personable officer right now, but I promise that I'll do my best to interact with all of you as people first and foremost for the duration of our voyage. I'm just…" I paused and sighed with a hint of tiredness in the expression.

Howe's face shifted to that of subtle concern.

"I'm in something of a rut right now, but don't worry too much. It's my problem, I'll work it out. Don't feel faulted for my shortcomings or if I can be…blunt on occasion."

She turned to face me properly and softened her voice. "Well, with all due respect, sir, that problem sounds like something you need help with. Is there anything I can do?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Thank you for offering. I'll let you know if there is. Right now, though, I think I still have quite a bit to figure out myself."

"Alright," she hummed. "And do let me know how to help. We may have only met a few hours ago, but you are my commanding officer, so I feel that it's partly my responsibility to make sure you can command at your best. You can't do that if you aren't feeling your best."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

She nodded before turning towards the viewport again.

The sun was starting to make its final home run for the horizon, heralding dusk soon to arrive. I took that as my cue to get some shuteye before supper. Excusing myself from the bridge to that end, I found myself musing on the way to my quarters.

How's supper going to work?

I'll tell you how supper works.

When Howe releases the supper call via broadcomms, everyone in the force skates over the waves and hops on board, allowing everyone to eat as a group.

"I forgot you guys could do that," I remarked as Prinz Eugen and Z23 hopped up onto the Howe's deck from the water below as if the jump were nothing.

Z23 laughed awkwardly and waited for her comrade to dust off their uniform.

Prinz Eugen tittered more smoothly and replied, "You'll find we can do a great many things some consider to be unnatural."

"Okay…" I said with more than a little apprehension. "Well, the galley's that way, so go right ahead. I'll just grab something from the bridge and get down there with the rest of you."

"Jawohl," she replied and they headed off in the indicated direction.

When I arrived at the galley, the scene was, I daresay, picturesque. Howe was monitoring something she'd whipped up in a pot. Charybdis was helping her with some other foods that lay on accompanying pans. Vampire stood next to Howe, standing ready to taste-test the dishes being prepared. Prinz had been put to the task of laying out the bowls and utensils with Z23 and Javelin's help. The two destroyers were making quite the effective duo, I noted, having a lot of everything out and ready in swift order. Save for one crucial detail…

"Hang on," I approached the duo. "The knives and spoons are switched on the serviettes."

They both reddened a little in the face, Javelin staring at their slightly mismatched handiwork.

"A-ah," Zed stuttered, clearly embarrassed. "Apologies! We'll fix that right away."

"No problem," I laughed. "Here, I'll help you out."

In naught fifteen minutes, we all sat at the table, ready to feast on the dishes Howe had cooked up.

"To kick the mission off right, I figured a nice steaming pot of pasta soup would fill us up nicely," the blonde chirped happily.

"So you cook and bake?" I asked as everyone began serving some of the stuff into their bowls.

"Some of the skills required for the two intertwine," she said.

Hm. "That makes sense," I nodded.

If her cooking skill was indicative of her baking skill, I'd love to be right. The soup ended up being quite a treat in its own right, making me curious where she'd learned her way around the kitchen.

When supper was worked through, I volunteered to stay behind and help Howe clean up. That naturally meant everyone else opted to take their leave.

"Captain, do you mind packing in the rest of the utensils they didn't use?" She called from the sink.

I looked down at the table and noticed some knives and teaspoons that were still perfectly clean. "Ah, sure. Where do they go?"

"The cabinets beneath the cupboard, over there," she pointed with one hand at the compartment. "You'll know where each should end up."

"Got it," I replied, gathering the silverware and heading over to deposit them in their rightful places.

When that quick task was complete, I decided to just get on with it and returned the placemats as well before tidying up the conjoined tabletops with a rag and some cleaning solution. At last, those too were accomplished, and I grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and refreshed myself.

I heard the faucet silence and Howe walked over to stand next to me, still drying her hands while beaming at my work. "Wow," she said. "You could be a maid."

Sputtering and rapidly lowering the glass, I set it down on the table and shot her a look that made her giggle. Wiping my lips, I replied, "No way. Just learned a thing or two about cleaning up from my mum, is all."

"Mhm," Howe tittered slyly. "If I should ever be graced with an opportunity to meet her, remind me to thank her. Too few people outside the Maid Corps know how to tidy up anymore."

"I hear that," I conceded. "Though of course, the standards of those within the Corps would still be far higher than most others."

"Well, that's just natural," she inclined her head.

"Fair point," I replied. Just as we were about to fall into an awkward silence, I surmised that now was as good a time as any to excuse myself. "Anyway, I suppose I shall retire for the evening. If an immediate concern crops up, just knock on my door."

"Yes, sir," Howe saluted playfully as I made for the hallway. "If you find yourself stewing in the middle of the night hankering for a snack, you can knock on mine."

I looked back and smirked at her. "That's quite nice of you."

"Is there anything wrong with seeking a healthy casual relationship between superior officer and subordinate?" She asked in response.

I paused to think. She had a point. We'd be out here for two weeks, round-trip, 'cramped' in this little pod of ships. And I suppose I did make a promise earlier that I'd make efforts to warm up to them. If she figured that initiative had to be mutual, then…why not? "No, I don't suppose there is," I replied. "Thank you. I look forward to developing a healthy relationship with you and everyone else here."

"Absolutely," Howe grinned. "Now, go get some rest. I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"Thank you. Good night, Howe."

"Good night, Captain Leighway."

Chapter Text

On the second day of our sail up north, I was woken up by a rather hurried Howe in the brisk hours of the morning. "Captain," her voice floated into my ears as my vision refocused and my hearing started coming to full capacity.

I grunted and squinted the usual waking man's mannerisms, brain still spinning up. Judging by the light washing in through the windows – though not necessarily accounting for any latitudinal change – I'd peg the time at seven or eight, just as sunrise was concluding.

"Sir," Howe persisted before I could finish my power-up sequence. "There's a call coming in."

"Is it Admiral Theodore," I grumbled putting my hands up to wipe the sleep cobwebs out of my eyes. "Tell him I'll be there in a bit."

"No," she shook her head. "It's Commander McConnell. He says there's no rush, but he'd like to see you."

That woke me up. "The Commander? I thought he was on his way back to the Union."

Howe inclined her head and shrugged. "He is, but I speculate he either wants to check up on us or offer some help. Or some such thing, I don't know. He wouldn't tell me."

"Alright," I nodded, slipping the covers down so I could get my legs out of the bed. It was then that an important fact dawned on me. I still had my default white shirt and dark gray shorts for sleeping on. My hair probably isn't anything to write home about either. I was about to apologize profusely when I also had a proper look at Howe. "Are you…in your nightgown?"

"That's your takeaway?" She tittered. "It's not like either of us is better dressed to be seeing each other. But this felt urgent enough."

"It's just a transmission, I'm sure the Commander would've understood," I laughed back. "Doesn't he know what time it is here?"

"Either way," Howe insisted like a mum convincing her stubborn child, "you should go get freshened up. I'll prepare myself too in case you might need me. He said he'd wait fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes. "Can do," I said.

"Great!"

And so it was, in fifteen minutes, I sat in front of a monitor in a quiet room on the ship with Commander McConnell himself looking quite jovial on the other end.

"Hello, hello, hello," he greeted enthusiastically.

"Good morning, Commander," I replied doing my best to sweep away any residual grogginess. "I'm Captain James Leighway. How may I help you?"

"Hello, Captain. Actually, it's more the–" He frowned and snickered. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

I laughed and decided that since he seemed to be in a casual mood, I may as well return the favor. "Affirmative, sir. Did you not see Howe in her nightgown?"

He raised his eyebrows and recoiled as if genuinely surprised. "No, matter of fact. I did not notice that. Really sorry," he chuckled.

"No, it's alright, sir," I waved. "Is there an urgent matter in need of discussion?"

"Kind of?" He said, face scrunching up uncertainly. "I just feel involved in this mission in a weird way because Bismarck told me first about the situation with her sister. So, if you guys need any kind of help, then I'm a button press away. Or something," he shrugged. "I dunno how comms work on your ships."

"Oh," I nodded. "I am honored at the offer, sir. Thank you."

"Sure thing."

"Mm."

We proceeded to sit in an awkward silence that lasted for maybe thirty seconds solid when he couldn't seem to take it anymore. "Is there…anything I can do right now?"

I paused to think for a second. This is Commander McConnell on the line. The officer who seemed to pull victories out of a hat as if it were simple as a child's magic trick. The officer who could read his opponents and know exactly what it is they wanted – and what they would do to get what they wanted – having met them personally or not. Surely, there were many things I could learn from him, though none of which I felt were particularly relevant right now. Save for one critical area of experience he had in which I possessed virtually none. "Are there any tips you might be able to give me about commanding a fleet of…shipgirls?"

"Oh," he nodded. "Yeah, totally. It might not seem all that different from regular folks, but there are a few key differences. First, you gotta remember that a lot of them come from the context of being constructed as weapons of war. Not all of them might show it in their personalities, but tread on certain topics carefully."

"Noted," I said.

"Second, they're capable of things your average ship might not be able to do. They can double as boarding parties, for instance. Use these exotic options to your advantage in a battle."

Was actually already thinking that. "Right."

"Third, do treat them more like friends than subordinates or other officers. You'll find that increases operating efficiency and morale dramatically if you do," he finished.

"Interesting," I replied. "Howe has been quite friendly to be with. D'you think it would be difficult to tread the line of being inappropriate in the process of getting to know them, though?"

"Nah," McConnell waved dismissively. "Just don't…you know. Be creepy and stuff. No one likes that."

"Sure, sure."

"Yep. But casual conversation, learning what makes them tick… No harm in chatting them up about things like that. It's honestly probably one of the best things you could do for them. They just need someone who'll listen. And, who knows," he cocked a brow suggestively, "They might end up pulling secrets out of you you thought were long-buried."

I chuckled. "Right." That did kind of happen the other day on the bridge with Howe. I sensed an opportunity to probe the Commander's mind a little bit with that statement, though. "Do you speak from personal experience?"

"Honestly?" He raised a brow and looked up from the camera. "Yeah."

"Interesting. With whom?" I asked, leaning back in my seat, signaling a more friendly chat from here on out.

"You know Howe's sister, Monarch?"

"The name sounds familiar," I replied trying to comb my mind's archives for some mention of her.

He chuckled. "Yeah. We ended up vibing real hard. She's been awesome."

"I see, sir."

"Mhm. Hey, if you need help in that department, too," he leaned in and glanced furtively around, "I volunteer as your wingman."

I laughed and shook my head. "I must say, this is not how I expected a conversation with the Commander McConnell to go."

"Well, here we are! Look, Captain, it's like I said. No harm in making new friends."

"I don't suppose so, sir," I said. "Well, this has been a nice first impression. An honor to make your acquaintance."

"Hear, hear," he replied. "Oh, one more thing! If you're into music, see if you can talk about that, too. I get the feeling Howe would appreciate it."

I cocked a brow at the suggestion. "So noted. I think I'll bring it up when I've got absolutely nothing else to talk about," I chuckled a bit self-deprecatingly.

"Or it comes up naturally," he winked. "Anyway, I guess it's about time I dip. Safe travels, Captain Leighway. Bring a family back together."

I paused to process what he'd just said. Put in that way, that is kind of what we're attempting to do here, isn't it? "Yes, sir. Safe travels to you as well."

He nodded and grinned before closing the connection.

Bring a family back together. Bismarck must sorely miss her sister by now. If the relations between the Illustrious-class or any of the other individuals serving in the Royal Navy's shipgirl divisions were any indications, their sisterhoods were also the only 'real' family in a 'biological' sense they have.

Shipgirl. An interesting distinction. A ship that happened to have the mental and psychoemotional faculties of a human or a human who happened to have the ability to summon a ship from thin air? I am inclined to perceive them as more of the latter, because it makes things more pleasant, and makes more sense. Where did they come from? Why are they here? An alien experiment gone wrong? I'd heard shreds of rumors about Siren schemes and the like but have never since seen a flagrant display of such a presence beyond the first invasions. Though, in retrospect, it was tempting to think they weren't driven away, simply driven back.

And if Commander McConnell's findings were anything to go off of, I likewise inclined to believe the latter. The Siren were driven back to the shadows, scheming and arranging the systematic dismantlement and eventual destruction of present human society.

We didn't know why. Some great conquest? A meddlesome experiment, as proposed earlier? A simple, childlike show of force?

Whichever one it ends up being, my plan is simple. I would do my part in this extraterrestrial war. When it was played, I'd sit back on the bench duly.

"Hello, Captain," Howe said out of nowhere.

Taking the unexpected arrival in stride, I turned the chair around to see her holding a tray of warm cookies. "Hello, Howe. Is that breakfast?"

The blonde giggled and set the tray down. "It's an incentive to have breakfast. I'll grab the pot. And don't you even think about sneaking one out while I'm away," she winked.

"I would never," I replied in kind.

As she made her way out of the room, I looked at the collection of baked goods on the table. Damned if isn't tempting, though. Perhaps that was intentional on her part. Each cookie had such an enticingly puffy exterior with little chocolate chips setting oh-so-tempting into the soft surfaces. Howe's appetizing tactic, if it was a tactic, was certainly working.

One agonizing wait later, Howe returned with a platter that looked and smelled just as delectable as the cookies. "Here we go," she chipped triumphantly.

"Ooh," I observed intently as she laid out some accompanying utensils and covered the tray of desserts. "What's that, then?"

"This," she replied, "Is Gambas al Ajillo. I figured since we're having a rather early breakfast between the two of us, we could use something different."

"Always mixing it up with the food, aren't you?" I observed aloud, rolling the chair up to the table.

"Naturally," she said matter-of-factly. "A fleet doesn't sail on empty stomachs. But a bored stomach is equally detrimental."

I inclined my head as she pulled out her own chair and sat. "That makes sense. It's easy to lose appetite when the food is the same day in and day out."

She hummed in agreement. "Hence, mixing it up. Variety is the spice of life."

Before I could reply with my mouth, my stomach did so for me. I looked down and rubbed it with a hand as Howe snickered from across the table. "Shall we get started on this, then?" I said, trying to brush it off before she could say anything.

"Sure," she tittered.

As we put some servings of the shrimp onto our plates, I wondered aloud, "What exactly is Gambas al Ajillo?"

"It's essentially a garlic shrimp dish from Spain. Very aptly named, as you can see," she replied. "Big, juicy shrimp in garlicky olive oil sauce."

"Aptly named indeed," I nodded. The dish tasted as delicious as it looked. It was only improved when Howe gave me the useful advice of using some bread to dunk into the sauce, really absorbing its flavor, and eating that, too. That allowed the food to vessel in the flavor, causing it to disperse satisfyingly when chewed on. "Goodness, that is impeccable," I said still midway through chewing.

She giggled happily and clapped her hands. "Yay! I'm glad you like it."

"Mhm," I hummed. "Thanks for preparing it. Good stuff, seriously."

"Wonderful," she said. "Now how shall I top it tomorrow…?"

Treat them like friends. I held up a hand, an idea coming to my head. "I've an idea. Why don't you show me your cooking process? Might be a nice way to bond."

She lit up and grinned at the suggestion. "Now that you say it…I think I quite like that! We'll start by diagnosing your aptitude for a kitchen environment. Once you're ready, we can make something."

"Great," I chuckled at her pleasant demeanor. Howe had an interesting personality going for her. She was enthusiastic about her friends and associates. The type of person to jump at any opportunity to be of service to those she cared about. And she may as well be the happiest individual I'd ever met. But she wasn't overly bubbly or in-your-face, either. On the contrary, when in a room with other people, she may relegate herself to an aloof background presence, only piping up when she had a pertinent comment to make or a question to ask. And even though I'd only known her for some three days now, she was starting to grow on me in a way I hadn't expected. Is McConnell's advice already coming to pass?

"So, what did the Commander say?" She asked in such a timely manner that I thought she'd read my mind.

I cupped my mouth so she knew I was still chewing, and she ate a spoonful of food patiently awaiting my response. When I was done, I said, "You were kind of right. He wanted to know how he might be of assistance. Apparently, he still feels some involvement in this mission because Bismarck had approached him first regarding it. I suppose she saw an opportunity to recement relationships between the Royal Navy and the Kriegsmarine when the deal was worked out."

"That mayf thenth," she fumbled her words cutely, what with the food still in her mouth. She swallowed, then said, "What did you say?"

Restraining a chuckle, I replied, "I asked him for some advice regarding command of a task force like this. As I've already told you, I'm a lot more used to having a bunch of officers controlling different parts of a ship as opposed to having just one person who could fire her guns with a snap of a finger."

She snickered while wiping some errant crumbs from her lip. "And then what did he say?"

"I think he's really big on the humanization aspect. Actually quite in tune with what I had in mind. So developing healthy personal relationships is the way to go, if our combined experiences are any indication."

"But you don't have any experience barring the past few days," she raised a brow curiously.

"Well, from my experience with getting a little closer to you," I replied cautiously, "it's been nice having someone like you around."

She leaned back a little in her seat, hints of a faint blush coming about her. "Oh? How so?"

"I'm not so sure," I admitted. "Maybe because it's just the two of us, that's making it more conducive to a close relationship. Maybe it's a simple fact that having met such a genuinely friendly person is so refreshing. Whatever it might be, my point is that you've been great to get to know so far and that I do value our developing friendship."

"Well," Howe began slowly as if processing what I'd just said. "Thank you, Captain. Know that the feeling is mutual."

I smiled. "And I suppose to that end…feel free to call me James."

"James," she echoed. "I like that. Has a nice ring to it."

"Sure, it's my name," I snickered. "Anyway, we also discussed a little about the operation itself," I steered back to the work-oriented topic. "If you think about it, we're practically putting a family back together."

Howe hummed wistfully, suddenly gazing off into nowhere at the statement. I was about to wave a hand in front of her face to signal her back, but I thought otherwise when I looked into her wandering eyes. Something about putting a family back together had obviously returned some memory, thought, or emotion.

I wondered if she perhaps had personal experience with such a matter. There were those hushed murmurings back at port with some people I worked with about how some sisters weren't getting along so well. Was the King George V-class one of those cases?

"It is, isn't it," she said, pulling us both back to the present.

"Yep," I nodded. "I think that's all the more motivation to make sure it's a success."

She grinned approvingly. "You don't hold a grudge against them?"

I gave her a casual shrug. "Not so much as a grievance. The biggest run-in I've had with an Ironblood force was a couple of submarines towards the occupied French spectrum of the Atlantic. Even then, we barely got four depth charges in before they fled. Resultantly, I don't have much personal reason to spite the Ironblood. I do have reason to spite the Siren, however."

"I suppose all of us do," Howe replied darkly to that last statement.

"Indeed," I said.

The two of us were then blanketed in silence, allowing me to evaluate the conversation we'd just had. Though much of yesterday was rather uneventful, it had given us many opportunities to make all manner of small talk, allowing an unexpected interweaving relationship to begin taking root. Would everyone in the task force be like this, I wondered to myself. Either way, we'd find out in time.

"Oop," I piped up, looking at the timepiece on my wrist.

"Hm?"

"It's eight. Might want to make breakfast call?"

She perked up immediately. "Ah! You're right. Help me set the table?"

I smiled softly at the invitation. "Gladly."

When we got to the galley, it was as if we'd been working with each other since yesteryear. She popped over to the kitchen to start heating the food for everyone else and I immediately knew how to make myself useful vis-á-vis setting the table. I went about laying placemats, plates, glasses, and silverware out for use. Just as I made to polish up with finish touches, Howe called from the back, summoning me over. "Yes," I asked while walking over.

"Hey! Could you taste test this for me?" She requested.

"Aren't you just reheating leftovers? I didn't think it'd be spoiled by now," I replied.

"Well, no, but I always want to make it as appetizing and filling as possible," she explained.

"A noble effort," I commended. "Let's do it."

Delighted, she put some of the soup into a tiny cup with a correspondingly tiny spoon and handed the two over to me. "What do you think?"

I blew on it a little to cool the contents before depositing it into my mouth. The flavor was preserved wonderfully, spreading all across my taste buds. Somehow, the soup gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling on the inside that triggered a bit of nostalgia. "Wow, that's somehow better than when it was fresh."

She giggled, "I can see how that might happen."

"It also coincidentally reminds me a little bit of my auntie's cooking back home," I added.

"Ooh," Howe raised a brow with sudden interest. "I shall make contact with her as soon as I get the opportunity."

"What, why?" I laughed, setting the cup down so as not to spill it. "First my mum, now my aunt?"

"Well, I'm curious to see if I can match her caliber," Howe replied with what I couldn't decide between seriousness or playful challenge.

"Right," I shook my head jokingly. "Is there still anything else you need me for? I need to get started on some papers to file in."

"Ah, no, I don't suppose so," she said. "Thanks for the help! I guess I'll send for you if we end up needing you."

"Sure thing," I said before making towards the door and bidding her farewell.

Once out in the hallway, I shook my head tiredly and sighed. Out on the open-air deck, I leaned up against the railing and had a look at the Charybdis, sailing right alongside us. Modern ships certainly had their merits. Vastly improved detection systems and weapons, though the armor innovations were a bit arguable. Yet, there were those who insisted on their love for older watercraft, some holding a special place in their hearts for ships of even the Nelsonian times.

And, of course, the quirky advantage that shipgirls were now taking centerstage in most navies. That was because of the destruction of a debilitating number of contemporary vessels when the Siren Invasions initially broke out.

I didn't quite have a preference, though I supposed there was an allure to the way ships were designed in World War 2. Something about them felt more lean and mean. As my eyes scanned over the Charybdis's structure, they soon took notice of something moving on its deck. Shifting focus, I found that it was Charybdis herself waving at me from the distance.

I grinned and waved back. She was cleaning up some dirt from the surfaces of her deck, though I wasn't sure what any long-term benefit that might attain for her. The high seas weren't exactly the tidiest place to be. Either way, if it keeps her mind off things, then there's no harm in it.

When she went back to her duties, I figured I should, too.

But there were chains in the back of my mind reeling me towards distraction. I shook my head. These papers were important, and some of them were already three days overdue. It was about time I cracked down and got the tasks off my plate, so to speak.

It's my problem. I'll work it out.

When dusk hit, I'd made appreciable progress in my workload for the first time in what felt like weeks. But it didn't feel like enough. I stood up from the desk to get some blood back into my legs and arms. Perusing the stack of papers on it, I decided that beating myself up over it wasn't worth the trouble. Take your mind off things for now.

So instead, I decided to have a proper looking-through of the room around me. It was rectangular, with a ceiling high enough not to be cramped, but closed just enough to give the space a cozy atmosphere. That was very much welcome. Adding to that homely coziness, the lights were a warm orange, the bed was surprisingly cushy for a warship, and aside from the desk and nightstand, there was a tiny circular table with two high seats on the side of the room, presumably for the rare occasion that I'd need to entertain a guest in my quarters.

I was about to lie in until Howe called for dinner when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," I said.

Once again in near-flawless timing with the thoughts in my head, it was Howe who swung the door open. "James? We're getting another transmission. He wouldn't identify himself. 'For your ears only,' and I quote."

Mysterious. "Alright, I'll head over right now. Make sure everyone's alert, too. Something about an unidentified transmission tells me there might be something out there."

"Aye, aye," she nodded before walking off dutifully.

I drew a calming breath to still myself before heading over to the station room to handle this unidentified caller.

"Hello?" I started uncertainly. This time around, there was no video, leaving me to rely solely on audio cues to communicate with the person on the other end.

The static cleared up and revealed a rather friendly sounding voice that took me a little off guard, if underwhelmed in some weird way. Perhaps I was expecting some kind of voice changer like in an action film. Oh, well. "Hello? Is this Captain Leighway?"

"Yes, this is," I frowned. "Who is this and how do you know my name?"

"Well, we'll be working together in the future, so get used to me knowing some things. You might as well learn mine, too. You can call me Maxwell," the voice on the other end replied.

I shrugged, not seeing much else I could do. "Alright, Maxwell. What is this about?"

"This is an encrypted transmission that only you and I know about. Do not tell anyone in your task force until such time you deem it appropriate. Use your best judgment," he warned darkly.

"…Alright," I hesitated. "Before you start with anything else, you haven't answered my question. Who are you? I'm going to need more than a name, I'm afraid."

He grumbled some annoyance before replying, "I'm Agent Maxwell from the International Reactionary Defense Initiative. Yes, you've never heard of the organization before because no one else has or is supposed to," he said before I could question that very point, "And we haven't gotten involved in endeavors revolving around Azur Lane because it hadn't been deemed necessary until now. Are you ready to listen?"

He asked that last point a little hurriedly as if he was in the middle of something. I still had to tread carefully, but if he was offering help, I wasn't about to bite the hand that would feed me. "I'm not really in the Azur Lane, but... Sure, I'm all ears."

"Great, thank you," he said snappily. "You heard of that major Sakura force amassing from a few days ago, yes?"

"Ah, the report from the Eagle Union? Yes, I have," I replied.

"Alright. Did you know it left earlier this morning?"

What? "That, I did not know." My thoughts began echoing to the brief the other day with Theodore. You're more likely to be attacked by Sakura forces than anything else, the Admiral had said.

"Thought so," Maxwell mused. "Well, anyway. We tried finding it on close, mid, and far range scopes and turned up nothing. They vanished."

"That sounds just grand," I joked dryly.

"Doesn't it," he played along, coaxing a chuckle out of me. "But the good news is, we found it. Would you like to know where it is?"

"Do I need to pay extra?"

"No, you don't," he snickered. "They were spotted a week or so away from Norway just a few hours ago."

…What in the queen's name? Doing my best to not sound like my jaw was hanging slightly, I slowly uttered, "That sounds…well…"

"Yep, exactly," he said, saving me from having to comment. "We theorize your two forces are after the same objective. Bismarck's sister, right?"

"Tell you what, you do seem to know everything," I quipped.

"I don't. I know enough, though. Enough to warn you in advance. We can't send assistance yet, though there might be a chance we'll see each other at Norway," he said, still with a sense of urgency in his voice.

Sighing, I replied, "Regardless, that means there will be combat."

"I guess so, yeah."

"Great. Does Commander McConnell know about this?"

"Not yet. We're still thinking of when to let him in on the play," he replied. "For now, though, just keep this information in mind. Forces bigger than we can imagine have been put into play. Keep your wits about you." Abruptly, his voice seemed to get even more rushed. "Anyway, I gotta go–"

"Hang on," I stopped him swiftly. "What exactly do you want us to do about the Sakura when we run into them at Norway? Destroy them? Capture them? What's the protocol there?"

"Ah, right, right," he said. "Sorry, almost forgot about that. Thanks. Incapacitate them."

"Perfect," I replied laced with sarcasm. "How do you think we're going to do that?"

"Agh," he grunted, sounding as if he were racking his mind violently for an answer. "Look, I don't know, okay? You command a very unique naval force and you're known for that brain of yours. Use them to your advantage!"

Before I could reply, the sound of a distant explosion came through the speaker, causing my eyes to widen a little. "Is everything alright over there, Agent?"

"Name's Maxwell," he grunted drily. "And I guess you could say kind of. Anyway, the most likely scenario is you'll just incapacitate the Sakura when you run into each other and leave them floundering in the water. We'll handle the cleanup from there, so you don't have to."

Clearly, all this was way beyond my paygrade or what I'd signed up for. Given the limited information, I guess the best course of action is to figure it out as we go. Let's not forget those 'new bells & whistles' that Admiral Theodore had cooked up, too. With Maxwell's advanced warning, he'd given me the perfect tidbit I'd needed to maximize the use of the new tech. And seeing as he seemed to know more about what was happening than me, it figures that the best play right now is to simply go along and keep everyone alive in the process. "Understood, Agent Maxwell. Incapacitate the Sakura when we engage them, leave them in the water for you to take care of. Am I missing anything else?"

He sighed in relief before replying, "Yeah, I think that's about it. Just remember not to tell anyone else until you judge that the time is right. We don't want the Sakura thinking you know they're there. Yeah, the chances of you running into them on the water is pretty slim, but you know."

"Better safe than sorry," I agreed. "How can I reach you should there be updates or concerns?"

"Uh…I'll transmit a packet later containing my contact details. I gotta bounce for – Shit!" I clenched my teeth as another explosion came in through the other's mic. "Yeah," Maxwell panted when the noise died down. "I gotta go. See you when I see you, Captain."

"And you. Keep safe, Maxwell."

Just like that, he was disconnected before anything else could be exchanged. That left me feeling the whole conversation was so completely strange.

How could a force originating in Japan get the whole way over to Norway? And why would they even bother with such a troublesome route? Surely securing Tirpitz couldn't be that valuable. I couldn't think of any purpose it would serve aside from perhaps acquiring a bargaining chip to get the Ironbloods to–

Oh.

Having reached that foreboding conclusion, I decided that it was a good thing we, at the very least, had the chance of arriving at roughly the same time. The question would come down to the hours. Given the new threats, I factored them into my mission plan. I would update my force on the new situation two days from arrival. We'd need a way to guarantee an effective incapacitant within our limited range and maneuvering space. All while protecting an individual who may not be at her peak operating efficiency. No sweat.

There it goes up on the ledger of other things to swirl in the whirlpool of my mind. Did I even want to do any of this? Is my heart still in it to look out for these people who are counting on me? Would it even be possible to fulfill the objectives I'd been given anymore?

Thankfully, Howe stepped in just before I could spiral further down that path of self-doubt and destruction, knocking lightly on the door before opening it. "Supper's ready, James!"

I jolted up from the seat and looked at her with a startled expression. "Ah…sure. I'll be right down."

"Alright!" She closed the door and was off once again.

Afraid to be alone in a room with my current thoughts, it didn't take me much longer to hurry after.

"So, what did the mystery caller want?" Howe asked from her seat.

Everyone else either slowed their eating or paused, cocking brows at me with curiosity. I could inform them of our circumstances right now, perhaps save myself the trouble, but that carries the side effect of potentially panicking some of them, too. Part of the full picture will suffice for now. "The mystery caller was an agent who identified himself as Maxwell. He's from the IRDI, an organization I'm sure none of us have heard of before, but I'm led to believe it's true. He also just wanted to check in on our operation."

"Why is that," Prinz Eugen asked.

"Similar reasons to Commander McConnell's call," I replied as casually as I could. "Just in case he could offer any future assistance, then he's ready and willing."

"'Tis quite convenient to has't so many comrades eft and willing, isn't it," Vampire mused.

I thought I picked up on a layer of suspicion coating her words. I shrugged and replied, "Would you rather we have none?"

"Nay, I supposeth not so," she chuckled. "Though an exsufflicate alliance is equally as deadly as an outright opponent."

"Well, an enemy, yes," I said. "Not an opponent. Even opponents can become allies in the heat of the moment."

"What's the difference," Charybdis piped up curiously.

"An enemy is an enemy," I replied. "They are hostile to us, and we respond in kind. There is no doubt an enemy has to be destroyed. But an opponent's loyalties are, as I've said, subject to change without prior notice. One second, you're dueling. But if the circumstances shift, so too can the opponent's affiliation. There are more options when dealing with an opponent, then."

"You can destroy them if necessary, neutralize them, or forge an alliance with them if applicable," Z23 supplied.

I nodded approvingly. "There, see? You're getting it."

They all chuckled, and some returned to their dishes when Howe asked, "So, do you view the Ironbloods as allies, opponents, or enemies?"

The two German representatives at the table eyed me once again. I took one look at them before shrugging and replying, "That should go without saying. These Ironbloods are allies," I gestured at Z23 and Prinz Eugen. "An Ironblood that shoots at us is an opponent. An Ironblood that hates or is fully hostile towards us and proceeds to act on that hostility is an enemy."

Howe nodded at the concise answer. "Interesting way of seeing things."

I hummed before taking another scoop of the soup. "This is good. Did you make this again?" I asked her.

The battleship giggled and shook her head. "Though I'd love to take credit, Charybdis took up the kitchen for this one. She's done a smashing job, hasn't she?"

"That she has," I nodded at the maid to her delight. "Well done, Charybdis."

"Thank you, master," she grinned from ear to ear.

So the rest of the evening went, conversation and insightful banter about strategies, the war, and food filling the galley. When everyone was finished and had departed for their own ships to retire for the night, it was just Howe and I once again left alone as the cleanup detail. Not that that was cause for complaint. "Hey, Howe," I began with a friendly tone, "I think I'm actually starting to enjoy doing these boring chores with you. Is that strange?"

Howe laughed from the sink as she grabbed another plate to begin washing down. "It's only as strange as you make it out to be, James."

"You have a point," I conceded with a thin smile.

"What is strange, though," she said, "is how you didn't give us the whole truth about what Maxwell wanted."

I froze and put the serviette back in the drawer slowly before sliding the compartment shut. Turning to look at Howe who had likewise turned off the faucet and had me locked in a keen gaze, I narrowed my eyes slightly and wondered aloud, "How did you know?"

She smirked and shrugged. "I pick up on things like that. If it's supposed to be confidential, you can tell me. My lips are sealed."

I pursed my lips and thought for a moment before deciding on it. What's the worst that could happen? Howe seems cool and collected enough. "He informed me of the whereabouts of that Sakura Empire task force that was spotted amassing in a port a few days ago."

Now with sparked interest, she faced me and tilted her head. "The one the Union reported? Where are they," she asked when I nodded.

"Approximately one week away from hitting the same spot we are. For the same reasons we are. Though with slightly different intentions," I replied.

"What?" Howe flabbergasted softly. "That's impossible. A Japanese fleet in the North Atlantic?"

"It is impossible, it is a Japanese fleet, and yes, they are in the North Atlantic," I quipped. "The good news is we at least know why they're here. And I have a few ideas of how we're going to handle them. Unfortunately, we don't quite know how they got here."

She shook her head and winced. "That makes me nervous."

"My thoughts exactly. If they utilized some other methods of instant transport between two oceans, I don't want to think about the possibility they might have quite the head start in the technology department," I said darkly. "But, either way. Don't tell anyone else about this until two days from Håkøya. We don't want to panic anyone or arouse suspicion from anyone who may somehow be listening."

"Well, as I said," she replied while seeming to recollect her thoughts, "my lips are sealed."

"Thank you."

"Of course," she said. "Besides, even with that information, it doesn't change much in our immediate schedule. Does it?"

"No, it doesn't," I assented. "So, I'm thinking I could spend the next few days making good on my promise and visiting the others in the fleet. Get acquainted with them, maybe familiarize myself more with what they're good at in a battle. We'll need whatever we've got if we're going to make it out of this mission with all our objectives intact."

"Yes, I suppose this mission just became much more than a search & rescue," she replied thoughtfully.

"Still not a hunt, though," I said, swiftly seizing the opportunity presented to me.

She gave me a look halfway between knowing laughter and comic disbelief. "Whatever you say, James," she shook her head whilst returning to the dishes.

I snickered back and allowed myself one more look at her before likewise carrying on with my packings. Yes, the ship isn't nearly as populated as the ones I'm more acclimated to. And yet, I'm admittedly starting to like this change of pace a bit more than I'd expected.

Chapter Text

"Oh, Kapitän," Prinz Eugen greeted us as we walked onto her bridge. "What can I do for you? Actually, how did you get here?"

"Ah…you don't need to know," I waved.

Before the German cruiser could say anything, Howe decided Prinz very much needed to know. "I brought him over," she snickered mischievously.

I shot Howe a look that made her giggle while Eugen simpered lightly at the implication. "Well, I would've liked to see that," she joked coolly.

"Trust me, you wouldn't," I retorted. "Anyway, I'm simply here to have a chat with you, if you don't mind."

"Swiftly changed topics, I see," she said, her eye glinting. "Very well. Will she be with us?"

"Oh, unfortunately not," Howe gestured towards her ship and exited the room. "I've got to watch the pot. Just call me back when you need a pick-up, Captain!"

"Yep, yep," I replied dryly.

Prinz chuckled and pulled up two chairs, facing them towards the viewport and positioning them next to each other. "Would you like to have a seat, sir?"

"Certainly, thanks," I replied seating myself on the left chair. Eugen sat down on the right, and I decided to take the initiative. "So, how have you been?"

She eyed me with a raised brow and replied, "If that's how you think you'll win a woman over, allow me to inform you otherwise."

I chuckled but discerned that was the opening I needed. "Come on, you know this isn't like that. We've barely spoken to each other outside of meals. That response does make me curious, though."

"That response," she echoed curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I went through the transcript of your interview with Commander McConnell in preparation for the extended duration of this mission," I said. "Please don't take any offense for the assumptions I've drawn, but you seem to always keep this air of flirtatiousness about you. Again, this isn't to speak of you derogatorily or anything like that. Just an observation of mine. Would you lend me some insight into that?"

Prinz kept her gaze on me, examining for anything she might use to read what was running through my head. Then, she hummed and nodded. "You're good, Kapitän. Perhaps I can lend some insight. But just for you."

Not letting too much of my surprise at her willingness to speak up show, I confirmed, "My ears only."

She sighed and finally broke the piercing eye contact she'd as yet succeeded in maintaining. Looking at the ground to think for a moment, she drew a deep breath. Then, she began speaking while gazing at the seas outside the viewport. "I don't know."

I nodded, spinning my internal note-taker up. Some of them may not show it in their personalities, McConnell had advised. Tread on certain topics carefully.

Some of them may not show the quirks in their personalities. But others would, as I surmised from some personnel files I'd also happened upon in my 'research' of sorts. Vampire and Duke of York with their speech patterns. King George V and her very monarch-like charisma. Prince of Wales and some deep-running scars from her unfortunate history. Prinz Eugen and her teasing nature.

"I've thought long and hard about this question as well, Kapitän," she continued. "There were nights after a successful but tiring day when I'd lay my head on the pillow and wonder why I'm like this. Did I decide to be like this when I was constructed? Was it predetermined by the cubes, further proof that I am just a mechanical pawn, manipulated into a cursed state of unbreachable servitude? Proof that I am truly doomed to forever just be a weapon of war, and anything resembling my humanity is simply a façade, an illusion?"

What she said gave me pause. That was surprisingly deep coming from her, a degree of introspection and openness that I admittedly hadn't expected. You have to remember they come from a warlike context, McConnell had also advised. Treat them like friends. Because, I suppose, they very well could be.

Before too long, Prinz found the words to resume. "Or maybe it was the exact opposite of that. Perhaps this mechanism of mine, ironic as it sounds, is proof of that humanity in itself. That, stemming from human psychology and, more important, emotion…my mind constructed a defense from the pain I experienced. You know how I was eventually sunk, yes?"

"I do," I replied sympathetically. "Crossroads?"

"Yes," she choked.

When she looked at me, I noticed hints of mist forming in her eyes, and that sparked genuine concern. I sat more at attention and leaned closer to her, putting a hand on her back. "Are you okay? We don't need to continue this if it's uncomfortable–"

"Nein, nein," she waved before I could finish. "It's out there. Best to finish the job."

Morbid sense of humor, huh? "…Alright. Take your time, there's no rush."

"Danke," she nodded. Out of somewhere, she produced a handkerchief to wipe away a streak running down her face. She gulped one more time and then continued. "So, yes. My theory is that I tease, poke, and prod in an attempt to garner approval. Because, in my subconscious, whether or not it is true…"

"You fear that if you don't endear yourself to someone somehow, you'll end up in the same disastrous boat," I finished for her. She looked at me with the most forced smirk she could muster when I realized what I'd just done. "Sorry. Pun not intended."

Shaking her head, she replied, "It's alright. And yes. That sums it up."

I nodded, taking that in and processing. Her initial response had proved to be an opening but to something far deeper and more personal than I thought I would get. There I was, thinking it would be a quick questions-and-answers segment about her strengths and weakness, and that would be that. Now, here I am with someone I barely knew opening up about what was probably one of their deepest and most buried thoughts and feelings. Although it wasn't what I'd been expecting, I wasn't going to set it aside, either. First, it would be uncalled for. Second, I'd look like a twat. Scratch that, I would be a twat.

"That's…" I floundered, trying to find the words. "I'm sorry for digging up those thoughts. It wasn't my intention."

"I understand, Kapitän," Prinz replied. "I apologize for getting so emotional. But it is what you asked for."

"I guess it was," I said rubbing my hand gently up and down her back. "So don't apologize. It's completely normal. And it's more evidence to back up your case."

"My case?"

"That you're more than just a weapon now," I said. "You're human. All of you are. D'you know what the Commander said to me when he called?" She raised a brow at me and I continued, "He told me that there are a lot of differences between commanding a 'regular human' task force and a task force of…well, you guys. Some of these differences, I'd already inferred for myself. But there was something he pointed out that I doubted."

She sniffled a little before asking, "What was it?"

"He told me that striking up a personal – though the word he used was 'casual' – conversation with you would be one of the best things I could do for you," I replied. "I'd doubted that because I didn't think we could possibly get so personally acquainted. And yet, in some three days, I somehow feel that I can trust you and Howe with my most distressing thoughts more than most."

"And how has that changed your perception, then," she asked.

"It's changed completely. I hadn't even noticed until just now. But I've gotten personally attached to the people in this force," I replied. "That is yet more evidence of your humanity. You don't need to endear yourself with, frankly, cheap means to stay among the living here. And although that teasing side of you could very well be a part of your personality anyway – and there's nothing wrong that – right now, it's simply been amplified as, like you said–"

"–A defense mechanism," she concluded thoughtfully. Her emotions had now calmed down, and she returned to her cool cadence. I found myself relieved at the shift back on course.

"Precisely," I said with approval. Taking my hand off her back so she could sit up, I decided to wrap the topic with a bow. "Don't doubt your humanity, Prinz. Don't doubt your worth to the people around you. You're more than a weapon that can be disposed of when it's gone obsolete. And if there so happens to be someone who thinks that way, point me to them and I'll gladly reeducate them."

She laughed genuinely at the quip and looked at me with a small smile. "Vielen dank, Kapitän. This conversation ended up…quite something."

"I'm glad you feel that way," I grinned back. "And now, I suppose we can turn to a less emotionally taxing topic. Unless you feel you need some alone time, of course."

"No, no," she said. "It is the least I can do. You don't seem fully aware of it, but you really pulled me out of a pit just now. Ask away."

Increased operating efficiency and morale. "Thank you. I still don't mean to intrude too far, though, so I'll keep it quick regardless. What do you think you're most suited to do when on the battlefield? Right up there on the frontal assault, playing support from the sides, taking the role of a shield of sorts…?"

She hummed and thought carefully before answering. "I think that last one about being a supporting defensive. Unfortunately, I wasn't graced with combat prowess as some of the others are. But I have my wits, and more importantly, my experience."

"Experience does outrank everything," I agreed.

"I'm glad we see eye to eye on that," she said. "Anyway, if you were wondering how you might maximize me on a battlefield, that's your answer. Maybe a bait setup, or to put it crudely, a meat shield," she joked.

"Or, when combined with the right partner…" I thought aloud, mind wandering to Z23. "Alright, I've got it. Thank you so much for your input and insight, Prinz. It'll be very helpful. And thank you for being open with me. It means a lot, and I promise you your trust isn't misplaced."

We both stood up from our chairs as she nodded. "Thank you once more, Kapitän. You can call me Eugen." She held her hand out, and we shook on it.

"Eugen," I smirked. "That will work." She simpered back as I walked toward the door. I still didn't exactly want her around when I called for Howe to literally pick me up. I dread the verbal jabs she might take with that opportunity. Turning around before leaving, I asked, "I'll see you at dinner?"

"Mhm~!" She hummed from the room.

I noted the more sincere happiness in her tone from that last response before heading towards the open-air deck.

"So, how did it go," Howe asked as she set me back down on her deck. "Well, I hope?"

"Your hopes are met," I reported positively. "She actually ended up telling me about a personal struggle she's been really grappling with."

The blonde cocked a brow and chirped with interest as we made for the superstructure for a light snack. "What was the struggle? If it isn't confidential, of course," she added.

"Well, out of respect for her, I won't go into detail," I said. "But I trust you. The gist is essentially that she's been having some issues with her past and personality."

"Wow," Howe mused as we rounded the corner to the galley. "That doesn't sound pleasant."

"Not at all," I agreed. "Thankfully, though, I think I said the right things and got through to her. She sounded quite elated when I left."

Howe herself looked elated at that news and smiled, pulling out some trays of pastries from the oven. "That's lovely! Well done, James."

I forgot I allowed her to call me that. Hearing her say it out of nowhere gave me a little kick. Not that I'm complaining. "Thank you. It really is something to be gaining trust among you. There's an added weight to it somehow, but it's not like a pressure-bearing-down kind of weight."

"I think I get that," she nodded as we both sat at the table. Once we were settled in, Howe started partitioning the cookies to our preferences. "Perhaps it's, as you said, the fact that it's largely one-on-one a lot of the time. That makes our interactions far more personal."

"Oh no, I think it's exactly that," I agreed. "And it's honestly quite a welcome pace. Quite a refreshing thing to have people who can open up to me. In turn, that ensures that I can open up to you, both on an emotional and practical level."

She tilted her head whilst taking a bite of her snack. "A pwactical level?"

Inwardly, I chuckled softly at the cute fumbling of her words. "On the emotional side of things, it's the simple fact that when one is completely honest to the other, it becomes a symbiotic, mutual relationship. I know your baggage, you know mine. On the practical side, though it's blunt, reprievable, and quite unprofessional, it also means that should one at some point cross or betray the other, the effects are balanced out if the traitor hadn't planned ahead."

"That's one way of looking at it," she chuckled. "Are you always thinking so much like a tactician?"

I shrugged at her subtle shot. "It's one of the things that's kept me sane all these years. And it keeps my head above water when stress and anxiety really start to roll in."

"So that's what you're 'going through,'" she said with sudden insight in her voice.

Hm. She picks up on things like that. "Huh?" I raised a brow, trying to sound as innocent as I could.

"You told me on your first day that you were going through some personal problems. Is it that stress-slash-anxiety, or at least something related to it?"

A symbiotic, mutual relationship. "Yeah," I finally replied with a tired smile and hesitant manner. "About everything, honestly. Life, work, the people I love, the war that might kill them and myself…"

Howe stopped munching and set everything down, leaning just a little closer to look into my eyes. I looked right back at hers. As we gazed, I wondered what she might be thinking in her mind. Before I knew it, I found myself preoccupied with something a little more obvious.

She is lovely. Her eyes told me wondrous stories without a single word. Little emerald-green worlds emblazoned on her face. I felt a strange sense of refuge in them that nothing else had given me before. It made my heart flutter.

"I never noticed you have blue eyes," she commented.

"Well, I do," I replied with an equally soft tone of voice, pushing back the intense emotions that had started bubbling with my…intent observations. "Do you think they'd look better if they weren't hiding a storm in my head all day?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Are you certain you don't want to tell me more?"

I sighed and looked down at the table. "Not now, sorry. Don't worry. I know I should, and I will. I just need more time to toss and turn it in my head."

She nodded, but replied, "But you know what happens to feelings that you toss and turn. You eventually lose track of them and they disappear into the ground. That doesn't mean they're gone, though."

"No," I bounced off her. "Instead, they grow and fester over time."

"Exactly that," she said using my words from earlier. "I'll give you more time, James. We all will. And don't feel pressured to talk about it if you're not ready. But when I see that it not only starts hurting this force and my comrades, but it starts hurting you, too?"

I raised a brow and looked at her with a thin smile.

"I will do something about it," she finished.

"Thank you," I replied. "Really. That means the world."

"Of course, James."

"Hello?" I walked through the door to bridge uncertainly at the strange silence that permeated through it. The viewports were open to the scenery outside, so any eeriness was taken out. It was simply that there was no one here that made it quite unusual. "Z23? Zed? Are you in here?"

"Agh!" Someone gasped to my left. My gaze shot in the direction to see a rather sweated Z23 pop up from underneath a console. "Tut mir leid, Herr Kapitän. I had to deal with a malfunctioning control surface."

"Oh, it's no issue," I assured, walking over to her. "Can I help with anything?"

"I feel it should be me asking you that," she raised a brow. "So, I will. Can I help you with anything?"

Chuckling at her quick-witted reply, I pulled a chair up and sat as she watched. "Just a quick chat."

"Similar to Frau Eugen, then?" Z23 asked politely, grabbing a chair of her own and placing herself down on it. "Absolutely, sir."

"Did she tell you about it?" I asked, scratching my head. "I was only on break for fifteen minutes…"

"She stopped by some ten minutes ago and we discussed it briefly. I must thank you for accepting her grievances so readily, sir," Z23 said. "It admittedly surprised me to learn that she'd spoken her mind to you just like that, but I suppose she saw the opportunity and took it."

"Well, you're both very welcome. As I said, my priority is treating you like people," I replied with a friendly look. "I'm looking to do that every step of the way."

"And it is an admirable objective, sir," the destroyer smiled. "I am especially glad that Eugen has found the one who would listen to her the way you did."

"Doesn't she have a sister?" I asked. "No offense, of course. But I would've assumed that they talked about it, too. Certainly, I'm not the first one."

And yet, Z23 shook her head. "Admiral Hipper does her best to be a caring elder sister, we can all see that. Unfortunately, she still hasn't quite learned how to receive deep intrapersonal reflection very well. Especially coming from her Kleine Schwester."

For fear of asking the obvious, I simply inferred that kleine schwester translates to little sister. "I see. Eugen holds no blame towards her, I hope?"

"No, no," Z23 shook her head. "Those two are a rare case of actually being quite close in a very familial way. It's just that Hipper's disposition tends to be a little…prickly sometimes. It's honestly also why I'm hoping Kommandant McConnell might be able to show her a little thing or two."

"Interesting," I replied. "How do you mean?"

"I…would overhear some of his conversations with uh…Monarch. To me it sounds like he has a lot of experience with life and things like that," she shrugged. "Maybe some of that can be passed on to Hipper as it's been passed to Monarch, and surely has been passed to other people under his command."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" I said thoughtfully while trying not to chuckle at the mental image in my head. Commander McConnell as a father figure…

"Anyway, putting all that aside," Z23 said before my head could wander further. "What is it you want to discuss with me? You will be happy to know I don't really have any major personal issues," she added with a hint of humor.

"I am happy to know that, as a matter of fact," I played along. "And I simply wanted to talk to you about your capabilities. Where do you think you do best in terms of battlefield mechanics? As a bruiser, a distraction, a gunner, whatever else it may be. I want insight into your value as a tactical asset."

"I thought I was a living, breathing human girl," she quipped.

"You are," I smirked. "But when we get into a scrim, you're also a ship. So, I'd like to get to know you as a person and as a tactical asset."

"Crude way of putting that, but sure," Z23 conceded, sitting up in her seat and swaying her legs gently. "As a destroyer, I'm sure you and I both know my primary strength is dealing big damage, fast, using torpedoes. Though, I've been told that my gunnery skills are better than most when it comes to my category of ships."

"So you're quick on your feet, know how to use your torpedoes, and can shoot decently well," I summarized.

"Yes, I can buzz hardpoints or weapons clusters if you need me to," she confirmed. "Those would be strong suits."

"And do you think you'd be better off doing these tasks on your own or with one or two others riding shotgun?"

She paused to evaluate. "I'd like a partner with me under ideal circumstances, but I also know how to work and succeed alone when I'm needed to."

"Great," I grinned. "That sounds perfect. Do you have anything else to add before I head back? I promised to help Howe with supper. Well, I actually promised to help with breakfast earlier, but things got sidetracked," I rescinded with a pang of guilt. Howe said it was alright, but I knew she wasn't happy about it. Not that she was angry or anything, but certainly down a little.

"You two seem to have grown rather close," Z23 said narrowing her eyes. "Though, I guess that's just natural seeing as she's your flagship. No, I don't suppose I have much else to say for now, Herr Kapitän. If additional ideas do crop up, I will make sure to inform you."

Brushing past her initial remarks, I stood up and nodded. "Alright. I'll see you when supper calls, then, Z23."

She stood and held out a hand. "Danke. And you really can call me Zed. Much more convenient."

"Well, yes, but I didn't think it personally appropriate without at least spending some time with you first," I pointed out. "Though now that I have, I will definitely start using it. You're right, it's more convenient."

We shook on it and bade each other farewell.

"Okay, so all you're doing is watching the pots and making sure nothing gets burnt or boils over," Howe explained patiently.

In front of us on the stove sat the two pots she was referring to, one holding meat and veggies, the other filled with broth that had a beef bone in it. They smelled fantastic, as was starting to become the convention with Howe's cooking, though I still hadn't a clue what they were. "Where did you learn to cook all this?"

"George and I have similar ways of passing free time," she said while depositing some used kitchenware into the sink. "I teach her how to bake things, and she 'repays' me in turn with how to cook things. It's good fun!"

"I'm sure it is," I said before swiftly realizing I had another opportunity here. "There's always something about learning things from your sibling. My brother and I both delved into music at one point, for instance. He was the guitarist."

She furrowed a brow at me, first in surprise, then curiosity, then some slight confusion. "You have a brother? And what did you mean by that second bit? What did you play?"

"One, yes. Two and three, I played the drums." I shrugged and sighed wistfully while making sure to keep my eyes on the pots so as not to miss Howe's instruction. "Although, drums can't exactly make melodies unless you have an absurd number of toms. So more of that melodic side of the music came from him. I was the one that made people move, though."

"Toms?" She echoed quizzically.

"Ah," I said. "The drum kit has multiple different pieces. The biggest one you strike with a foot pedal is fittingly called the kick drum or bass drum. The one that makes the loud tack sound is the snare drum. The cymbal used to keep the beat that makes the clicking noise is called the hi-hat. The loudest cymbal is generally the crash cymbal. The alternative to the high hat for timekeeping is the ride, though sometimes rides can also crash. The toms," I paused to emphasize, "Are the ones that make the thundering toom-toom sounds."

At the end of the crash course on drum pieces, Howe had her eyes narrowed as if she needed some very intense focus to get everything that I was saying. Finally, she replied with some hesitation, "I see. Are you still super into music?"

I sighed regretfully. "Unfortunately, not very much. It's been ages since I've been able to sit down behind a kit. Life caught up with me. Though I still appreciate the art form, listening to and playing music has become a smaller part of my daily routine than I'd have liked them to become. But when do things ever go according to plan one hundred percent?"

"I suppose the answer to that is never," Howe surmised. "Can you name a favorite band?"

Chuckling self-deprecatingly, I replied, "I would be able to maybe eight years ago. Not so much now."

She hummed. "Well, have you heard of Coldplay?"

"They sound familiar. Aren't they the ones who made Yellow?"

"Yeah, those are the ones," Howe grinned. Her eyes lit up like I hadn't seen before and she continued, "I love their brand of alternative rock. Even though they've changed their sound through the years, I still appreciate the kind of pop they ended up with. Parachutes, Mylo Xyloto, and A Head Full of Dreams are still some of my favorite albums to this day. You should take a listen to them if you've got the time." Before I could reply, she added, "Oh! I almost forgot Viva la Vida. I think, instrumentally and lyrically, it's their most interesting release by far. And Monarch would agree with me! Although unfortunately, my other sisters aren't that into music, I think you might be able to – I've gone off again haven't I," she trailed and started blushing.

I only laughed gently as she seemed to shrink a little. "It's alright. You really like these guys, huh? I might just give them a listen after work. I can't for the life of me focus while music is playing. I don't know how some people do it."

Recovering from her 'tangent,' Howe took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it takes a type of person. Do let me know if you end up listening to Coldplay. I'd love to hear your thoughts as someone who plays the drums."

"Absolutely," I replied. Opportunity, seized. If you're into music, McConnell said, talk about it. Howe might appreciate that. "Anyway, we can pick this chat up again at some point," I gestured to the pot. "It's starting to really steam up."

"Oh," she yelped, turning the knob back to its starting point, shutting off the heat. "I did not notice that! Thanks for keeping an eye on it. Let's get back to work, shall we?"

When supper reached its logical conclusion, Howe was working her usual routine, washing the dishes and soaping up the utensils. James was further out in the galley, tidying up everything else, putting clean unused kitchenware in the cupboards, etcetera. And though he was making good progress, Howe found something strange happening with her own workflow.

She could not focus.

Try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from sneaking glances at him whenever she got the opportunity. When she turned to put a plate on the rack, when she paused for a breather and grabbed a sip of water, when she would put a glass over on the holders, her eyes would snap in his direction. Her heart would skip a beat when she saw him.

It nearly stopped when he noticed.

"You okay," he asked, setting the rug down and using the quick break to walk over to her.

"Uhm," Howe stuttered, putting on her most nonchalant tone. "No…"

"No? What's wrong?" His face grew concerned and he leaned closer to get a better assessment of her.

"…I mean! No, nothing's wrong," she replied. "I'm fine! We're all," she gestured to the soaking dishes, "fine here. Are you fine?"

James furrowed a brow, chuckled, and put a hand on his chest. "Yes, I am. I think I'm fine. Are you sure you're fine?"

"Absolutely," she chipped. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just gestured at the dishes and said that you were all collectively fine," he deadpanned jestingly, "so I figured you might be hiding something."

Bollocks, Howe thought to herself while regaining her mental footing. Thankfully, she'd picked up a few tricks from her limited interactions with Commander McConnell. "Alright, look. I'm just worried about you, James," she replied, putting as much sincerity in her voice as she could. "You said it yourself. There's a storm brewing in your head. I know I shouldn't overstep but do understand if I'm finding it troubling to do so."

He sighed and nodded. Howe saw the regret in his eyes as he replied, "Thank you. I suppose I'm not going to tell you to stop worrying about it, either. But I should once again advise you not to pressure yourself over it. I'll work my thoughts out, and I promise I'll tell you all about it."

"Sure," Howe replied gently. "I love that you're doing your best to help other people here. I'm just making sure you can help yourself, too. Out here, everybody needs somebody to lean on. That includes you."

"Of course," he said softly. "Anyway, if you're all clear here, I suppose I'll get back to bed. See you in the morning."

"See you, sir," she replied with a nod.

Chapter Text

The next morning, while helping Howe clean up some dusty store lockers, she received a ping indicating an incoming transmission. "It's coming from home, but it isn't an official frequency. D'you have an idea who it might be?"

"I might," I replied. "I'll head over. Afterward, I think I'll get back to finishing up some old reports. If you need me then, just knock on my quarters."

Howe smiled and nodded. "Alrighty!"

I hope it isn't about those overdue reports.

Thankfully, it wasn't anything like that. Initially picking up the call, I was nervous about whether it was Admiral Holland or Admiral Theodore having caught wind of my backlogs and choosing to send me a message personally. Preparing my explanation as the connection was established, I took a deep breath as we were patched through. "Hello?"

"James?" A familiar voice piped up. Albeit delayed, the video also came up to speed and flashed a face that, to say relieved me, would be an understatement.

"Oh! Hey, Rendall," I greeted. "Fancy seeing you. What's up?"

"What's up? I'm checking in on my little brother, that's what's up. How have you been doing? Have you run into trouble already," he started.

"No, no," I reassured with a chuckle. "We're all right so far. The trip's been really smooth, actually. Not to jinx anything, but the weather's been cooperative. And these people have been more than accommodating. I daresay I've already made a few friends and more than a few acquaintances out here."

My brother smiled approvingly. "Well, that's fantastic! And how about your…you know. The stress and such? Have you been handling it alright?"

I took a quick breath. "Yes, in no small part thanks to those friends and acquaintances."

"That's nice to hear. If you deem those girls trustworthy enough to confide in them, then I suppose you're with the right people," he said. "And when you're with the right people, you can get through most anything."

"Very true," I agreed thoughtfully. "And perhaps you're right. Truth be told, I haven't had a proper sitdown about my troubles, but one of them recently let her thoughts out on me. It was a gratifying experience, being able to at least encourage her through it."

"I can imagine," he said with a small smirk starting to crease his lips. "Do you think any of them have the prospects of becoming something beyond friends or acquaintances?"

I shook my head and snickered. "As if that would happen. I don't know what they'd have to be thinking to take that kind of interest in me."

"Pff," he scoffed. "What are you on about?"

"I mean," I hesitated. "Aren't I a tad bit bland? I don't have theatric stories to tell or ultra-valuable life lessons to impart. I have my wits, I guess. Plus, the look of someone trying to put themselves to sleep."

"There you go again with that drivel," Rendall waved aside. "Aren't you sick of hearing yourself say that? None of that matters quantitatively, trust me. It isn't like everyone has a rigid set of criteria with which to evaluate someone via an intrinsic scoring system," he drawled sarcastically. "Didn't you say one of them opened up to you willingly?"

"Yes, Prinz Eugen," I replied, the name slipping out.

"One of the Ironbloods, too," he said, his surprise very much apparent. "You see what I mean? Look, it doesn't mean you two will have that sort of romantic relationship, right? But that still means you're an engaging person who they're willing to engage in conversation with. Engagingly!"

I couldn't help a little laugh escaping me. "I guess so. Maybe this mission will end up changing more about me than I've yet realized."

"Maybe," he echoed. "What are you doing up there anyway? Are you allowed to tell me?"

"Given the nature of the brief and how no one else was really around to see us depart aside from controllers and directors," I began, "I would be inclined to say nay."

Rendall nodded with a contemplative look on his face, though there was no suspicion. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it goes for our collective benefit. And remember, when you start spiraling, talk about it. Don't keep it inside you."

Feelings left to toss & turn will eventually bubble up. "Right. Don't worry, I'll know when I can talk about it with one of them."

"If you don't mind me asking, who do you think that one of them will be right now? Just off the top of your head," he narrowed his eyes inquisitively.

"Probably my flagship," I replied simply. "Her name is Howe."

"Heard of her," he nodded. "Well, whoever it ends up being. If they hurt you when you let it out, you tell me. They might be ships, but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve to bring them up to speed on human interaction."

"I will," I chuckled.

"But don't hurt them, either. Don't take it out on those around you that way."

"I won't," I replied more seriously.

"Alright," he paused and looked around at the room beyond the camera. "I guess I'll call you back when you're–"

The transmission buzzed abruptly and the sound of an explosion in the distance cut him off. My eyes widened and the adrenaline of a confrontation began surging to the forefront of my psyche. A switch in my brain went off, and suddenly, I was in officer mode.

"What in my pre-dinner sherry was that?"

I began to think. There weren't any more rapidly successive explosions, meaning whatever went off was either some charge or a combustible of sorts. The muffled nature of the sound meant it was far enough away from the Howe so as not to cause us damage directly, but the volume also indicated that it was still definitely too close for comfort. I didn't hear any return fire from Howe or anything else resembling the familiar sound of a main gun's retaliation. Then, I had it. "We're being attacked by a U-Boat."

"What?" Just as Rendall flabbergasted his reply, another explosion similarly muffled went off in roughly the same direction.

"Yeah, sorry. I've got to go deal with this," I said hurriedly, wanting to wrap this up as quickly as we could. "You said you'd call me back?"

"Absolutely, you've got to go deal with that," he agreed with no argument. "And yeah, I'll call you back when I have time again, maybe a little into next week. Good luck with that boat, James. And remember what we talked about here."

"I will, Dall. Thanks."

He nodded. "See you soon."

"You, too."

The transmission was cut just as one more explosion went off. Still, I noted mentally, within the same vicinity as the previous two. With no other immediate obligations, I booked it for the bridge. So much for those reports. Here's one more.

When I got there, Howe was looking pensively out the viewport in the direction of the Charybdis and Javelin, the two ships apparently embroiled in anti-sub efforts. "Status?" I demanded as soon we were within earshot.

Without missing a beat, she replied, "One submarine, roughly around the Charybdis and Javelin, as you can see. They're working on it, and we're debating deploying rigging. We can't do that unless you give the order, though."

I thought quickly about what to do. "What are Z23 and Prinz Eugen doing right now?"

"On standby," she said. "Do remember they can't shoot back."

"I know. But they won't have to. Tell Z23 to start a frequency sweep. See if she can't reach the sub," I said.

"Smart," Howe nodded and worked the radio before repeating the order word for word into the microphone capsule. The reply was unintelligible from where I was standing, an issue exacerbated by the detonation of yet another depth charge from the Javelin. "She's working on it, Captain. Oh, wait–" I waited anticipatorily for her follow-up. "She's got a hailing beam lock, but whoever's down there isn't picking up. What now?"

"Tell her to trace her transmission vector and feed that as targeting information to Javelin and Charybdis. Ask Charybdis if she has a depth charge projector on her, too."

Howe's expression flashed a mix of curiosity and confusion for a split second but nodded dutifully nonetheless, transmitting the orders. "Aye, sir. Z23 is preparing the trace. Charybdis has projectors, but not a lot of experience using them."

"She doesn't need to worry too much about that, just be ready to drop. She'll know when. How's Z23's track coming along?" My heart began to beat a little harder than usual in its rib cage while my mind worked through the puzzle I was gradually piecing together.

"She says her reconfigured beam is having some trouble but should have it within the next seventy seconds," Howe reported. "She thinks latching onto a passive signal from the submarine ideal so as not to arouse suspicion."

Exactly what I wanted her to do. The bait was set. All that boat had to do now was to take it. "Good work." I walked over to another transmission console in the room. "Keep in contact with her and let me know as soon as that trace goes live. Also, update Prinz Eugen and tell her to remain on standby. I need her to do absolutely nothing. I'll patch myself to Javelin and Charybdis to give them my orders directly."

Howe nodded. "Copy that."

My hands flew across the buttons as the link was established. "Javelin, Charybdis, please come in."

"I'm here!" "Clear, master!"

I nodded and began to outline the contingencies in my head, ready to devise them depending on how this conversation would go. "Alright. Javelin, drop one more charge just to rattle them. Do you have a track on the boat with your sonar?"

"I do, sir, but unfortunately, it's quite murky," the destroyer said apologetically.

With that last bit of information, I completed my puzzle. "That's alright. We can't destroy that U-boat, only disable it. We'll accomplish that if you do exactly as I say. Vampire, can you come in?"

"I am here. What doth thou requireth of me?"

"Take position equidistant from Javelin and Charybdis in polygonal formation." Just as I finished issuing the order, the Vampire cruised its way across the waters to the designated location with speed and efficiency I still had to get used to. A very unique naval force. "Thank you. Howe, report from Z23?"

"Trace will go live in," she said, "three, two, one. She has a lock, Captain."

"Have her feed that data to our computers. Javelin, do that with your sonar, too. Let's see how accurately you can plot in three-dimensional space. Prepare to cross-reference Z23's trace with your sonar track," I said.

Javelin replied affirmative but there was some hesitation, perhaps indicating inexperience and her own adrenaline rush still coming to full effect despite having been closest to the initial contact.

On the center tactical of the Howe's bridge, a visual representation of the skirmish took shape. Our fleet above the water, a faded red radius marking Javelin's sonar track, and a more defined hot red dot within the radius marking Z23's tight beam track. "We have no idea how long we can keep that comm track up before the boat catches on. We need to take her down, now."

"We need to take her down, now," James said. "Hurry up, all of you, and tell me what you see."

In Howe's head, the words rang with an urgency that only now fully registered. He was right. Their window of opportunity was already slim from the beginning. So why had he gone through all that effort? The tried and tested ways of getting boats to surface would surely have worked equally as well. Why did he move the Vampire all the way into that position? Why the theatrics? It only took her a few more moments of pondering when she had it.

"There!" She butt in. James looked at her with an expectant look. "It just made a turn way too swift and sharp to have been just a regular boat. We're against a shipgirl."

"Not just a shipgirl," Z23 added, coming into the picture. "That much is obvious. The more crucial point is that they're also using rigging. Unfortunately, I couldn't identify it just from a comm signal alone. All the same, whether coming from a full-size transmitter or a compacted one."

"Which is wherefore thee did want me h're," Vampire surmised with enlightenment in her voice.

"Wait, wait," Charybdis said with a contrasting confusion to Vampire's understanding. "So we're against a rigging-deployed shipgirl. But why is Vampire here?"

"There's two of you out there, only one of whom has proper experience in ASW," Howe began. She could feel James's gaze on her as she continued explaining, "Having Vampire there means you now have a triangular enclosure. With Z23's and Javelin's combined tracking data, and the enticing prospect of buzzing three ships at point-blank range on a silver platter for the boat…"

James grinned in approval.

Vampire laughed as she quipped, "Not only art they brash, but art have no more brain than stone!"

Then, the U-boat made for a front-on torpedo maneuver. Such a maneuver was only possible with a shipgirl and her rigging, as Howe previously stipulated. And so, just as the timing favored the allied ships, the Javelin, Vampire, and Charybdis unloaded charges simultaneously in that triangular formation. The concussion from the detonations quickly brought the dot to a screeching halt on the tactical.

That seemed to shake it up enough, Howe thought grimly. The three nearest to the confrontation confirmed that the girl had surfaced and was waving the white flag, and the brief ambush's conclusion was reached. Crucially, with everyone having finally got to see just how quick James could be on his feet.

Are you always thinking like a tactician, Howe had egged me. I'd replied that it was something that played a large part in being able to make sense of the world. It also carried with it the advantage of being able to, well, be an effective tactician.

"Very good, all of you," I spoke into the mic. "Bring that individual onboard the Javelin and ready her for questioning. Have Z23 there to speak with her first. I'll join in fifteen minutes or whenever you report she's ready so I can have some words with her."

"Aye, aye!"

Keying the transmitter off, I slumped back in my seat and huffed out a relieved breath. When my eyes landed on Howe, I saw she was looking at me with some wonderment. "What?"

"James, that was…," she said. "How did you know to do any of that?"

"Well, for starters," I began, "I knew it was a shipgirl given the concentration and the vagueness Javelin reported regarding the speed her sonar was working at. That meant it couldn't have been a slow-moving mass. From there, it was simply a matter of finding them, tracking them, drawing them close, and then neutralizing them."

Howe shook her head still, clearly a little disbelieving. "Well, you say it like that, it sounds so simple."

"That's because it is," I replied simply.

"But why didn't you just tell us off the bat? Why ask us for 'what we were seeing?'"

"Well, I knew we wouldn't be in any real danger. The chances of a wolfpack being nearby aren't appreciable because of location, proximity, and circumstance. Though we haven't yet received an official statement from the Ironblood, I figured there would've been some directive to lessen the intensity of activities against Royal Navy forces in the region," I explained. "So, without the urgency of a more serious battle waiting on the sidelines, it was a good opportunity to hone your deduction skills. I want my forces to work out the plan on their own. It sounds counter-intuitive, but that enables them to follow it much more precisely."

When I was finished, Howe laughed and nodded with dry sarcasm. "But then why did this U-boat attack us if that Ironblood directive was out there?"

I shrugged. "Given the…observable nature of shipgirl destroyers and, by extension, submarines, there's a good chance that they misinterpreted or outright misread the standing orders. Though of course, that's not to generalize the whole category of ships. But given their average proclivity for being more childlike than others, that's the conclusion I'm most confident in."

Howe raised her brows and asked, "And why did you think to use Z23's tight beam as a tracker?"

"When Javelin said her sonar was being fuzzy, given the rather quaint system she currently has equipped, I knew it should've had no trouble detecting a submarine hull, but would have more difficulty with a single-person size profile," I said. "So, what does that mean?"

Howe's face lit up as she discerned the point. "Using a transmission line to trace isn't exactly new, but it was an extremely convenient tool because you could use it to enhance Javelin's targeting."

"And because Javelin, Charybdis, and Vampire were in a triad formation–?"

"All they needed to do was wait for Javelin's mark, drop the charges, and score surgical hits on the U-boat without either Charybdis or Vampire having to worry about inexperience," Howe finished. "Their positions even allowed them to make sure they didn't damage the boat beyond repair. Goodness me."

"There you go," I said. "You'll learn to connect things like that much faster in time."

Before she could make a reply, the radio next to her piped up with Javelin's voice. "Captain Leighway," the destroyer chirped.

"I'm here," I called to the mic from across the room.

"We're ready for you, sir," she said.

"Alright, I'm on my way," I replied before the connection cut. I looked at Howe with some confidence in my voice. "Shall we go see if I concluded correctly?"

"Absolutely," she said.

At least there are snacks, Howe noted approvingly in her mind as they walked into the 'interrogation room' that was really just the galley on board the Javelin. She then laid eyes on the first catch of their mission and couldn't help a little pang of guilt seeing that they'd bruised up such an innocent-looking girl. She had dark red hair done up into two sweeping twintails. Tying the tails in that way were two bows with silver accents. Her attire, being sparse, showed the magnitude of the hits she took, an unfortunate side effect of shooting at an 'enemy.' Correspondingly, there was some dirt and bruising across her person, and her expression was befittingly weary. At the very least, for what small consolation it may be giving her, it seemed Zed had given her a juice box to soothe some of the nerves.

Speaking of which, the short-haired destroyer was sitting next to her and running a hand calmingly up and down her comrade's back. She was muttering something into the submarine's ear when Howe and James took their seats opposite them at the table.

"Where's Javelin," James asked Z23.

One cue, Javelin burst into the room from the entrance, causing their gazes to dart in her direction. "I'm here, sorry! Just had to clean something up." She hurried up to the table and sat at the head. "I'll be quiet unless you need me, Captain."

"Sure," he grinned. Howe likewise sat in polite silence as she observed the proceedings. "Anyway, hello. What's your name?"

The submarine looked up at him uncertainly, her eyes giving more than a clear indication that she was not comfortable with what she'd gotten herself into. "U1206, s-sir."

"Alright, 1206. Why did you attack us?" He asked patiently, perhaps not wanting to scare her off.

Her gaze started darting back and forth between James then Howe, then back to James before some mist formed up in her eyes and a blush faded on her cheeks. "I-it was an honest mistake! I swear! I thought that Zed and Frau Eugen were–"

"–Captives?" James finished her sentence for her.

Howe and U1206 both looked at him with varying levels of surprise.

"Y-yes," the sub squeaked. "How did you know?"

"Well, you attacked a team consisting of a majority Royal Navy ships and two unreported accompanying Ironblood ships. It's the logical conclusion without further details. But you did have further details, didn't you?" James asked.

U1206 again nodded meekly. "Y-yes. They sent out a directive just yesterday, but I think I…" She trailed off, either too nervous or too embarrassed to admit.

Thankfully, to Howe's amazement, James had concluded correctly. "You misread the issuance?"

The submarine's blush intensified. "L-look, the penmanship was awful!"

"Surely it was typewritten," James frowned comically. Howe could hear his attempts to hold back a snicker and decided it was about time she step in to save the poor girl from mortification.

"Alright, I think we know enough about that now," Howe defused, putting a hand gently between James and U1206. "We don't blame you for any of it, don't worry. Right, Captain?"

Successfully reigning in his laugh, he nodded. "Yes, no worries. It's in the past. Would you like to join us on our mission instead? Unless you have other standing orders to take note of, of course."

Z23 stepped in for her friend this time. "We just went through the brief before you got here, Herr Kapitän. She's technically free to join us if she so wishes."

And so, all eyes seemed to fall on the submarine in question. U1206 looked at all of them, still with warm cheeks and great apprehension. "You're really not mad at me?"

"No," James reassured gently. "Like you said. It was an honest mistake."

"O-okay," she finally nodded. "I can join, then."

"Great!" James grinned. "I suppose we should prepare some good lunch for our new guest?" He faced Howe with a knowing look.

"Yes," Howe nodded. "Yes, we should."

As we went about making preparations, Howe had one more burning question about the skirmish. "There's something I still don't get. How come Z23's trace worked so well?"

I looked up from the utensils I was laying out and raised a brow at her. "What do you mean? I'm inclined to think she's had at least some experience with the procedure."

"No, no," Howe said as she continued stirring the contents of the pan leisurely. "How come U1206 didn't cut the transmission line, thereby taking away our ability to track her?"

"Well, she said it herself," I said. "She thought Zed and Eugen were hostages."

"Right," Howe said still evidently trying to figure it out.

Hone your deduction skills. "Think. When you come upon comrades you surmise to be captured and want to free them, then one of them reaches out to you with a tight beam frequency sweep, what would you get from it," I asked.

Howe hummed thoughtfully whilst still working the ladle. Then her face lit up. "Because she thought they were hostages, the tight beam might have looked like an attempt to signal her covertly. So, she let Z23 keep the connection there, even on a passive line, just in case the time came where they could communicate freely in the interests of speed."

"And since I let Z23 keep that line open…" I encouraged her patiently.

"…That reinforced the illusion of a captive situation!" Howe concluded triumphantly. "And it allowed us to track U-1206 cleanly without the need for guesstimating everything via Javelin's fuzzy sonar."

"See? You're learning," I said like a proud mentor.

"Well," she said defensively, "I can still teach you things! Get over here and watch the pan."

I laughed at the quip and subtle compliment. "Sure, just let me finish with the table."

As we had good fun finalizing our preparations, everyone was happy to see 1206 cleaned up and at least marginally comfier with the team. Putting the serving platters down on the tablecloth in a neat arrangement, they all took their seats and prepared to dig in.

"That was quite the show you put on out there, Kapitän," Eugen remarked as she swallowed a bite of food. "An impressive one, at that."

"Thanks, but it was just a few simple connecting dots," I said modestly. "If anything, be impressed by the three ships we had on the scene who caught on to the situation incredibly quickly and responded accordingly without destroying the target."

Charybdis, Javelin, and Vampire seemed to sit up just a little straighter in their seats, hints of pride showing on their faces.

"Pete's sake, just take the compliment," Howe snickered playfully, inciting similar reactions out of everyone else.

"Not to sayeth I mind the recognition, howev'r," Vampire pointed out.

"Of course," Howe replied. "Good job to all of us. But Captain James's directions really sealed the deal back there."

Eugen giggled. "Indeed. And Howe has a point, sir. Why do you seem like such a…robot? No offense, of course."

I sputtered some of my food. Howe looked at Eugen with wide eyes and a creasing smirk. Z23 looked a little shocked. Vampire and Javelin were snickering to themselves in their corner of the table while Charybdis simply took the comment in stride, waiting for my response. "Excuse me?" I asked, chuckling a little myself.

"I'll be honest though, sir," Howe chipped in for Eugen. "She's kind of right."

"What? You've seen me laugh! Can a robot laugh?" I retorted incredulously.

"If it's programmed into it, yes," Z23 added to the mixing pot.

"Oh, come on–"

"I did think it was kinda spooky how it felt like you knew everything about me," U-1206 chimed from beside Z23. "Not sure though, I've only been here an hour."

"Right. Vampire, Javelin? Would you two like to contribute to our truly fruitful discussion," I editorialized sarcastically, though making sure to put enough playfulness in my voice so they knew I wasn't taking this too seriously either.

"Nay, nay, I wilt concur with Howe. I've not even seen thee smileth with mine own two eyes ev'r since we embarked!" Vampire laughed.

And now, with Javelin left in the hot seat, she only looked around at the rest of us sheepishly before shrugging and relenting the point. "I mean…I don't know. Maybe you could smile more?"

I laughed and shook my head at their musings. "Here, I'm smiling," I leaned back in my seat and put my palms out for emphasis. "Does this work for all of you?"

"Yes, actually," Howe replied with playful enthusiasm. "Just do that more!"

"Right," I guffawed. "Look, simply because I don't show my emotions very much doesn't mean I don't feel them, alright? Come now," I said.

"Okay, okay," Eugen shrugged. "I was simply pointing out an observation."

I narrowed my eyes at her while sipping from my cup. "Of course."

"Anyway," Howe said. "Who was calling you earlier?"

At that, I furrowed my brow a little and decided to voice a minor curiosity. "Hang on, actually. This is your ship, right? Can't you listen in on transmissions that are being made to and from it regardless of where I'm transmitting from?"

"I could," she said. "But out of respect for you and the caller, I don't. Would you like me to append that policy," she coaxed cheekily.

"No, that's a great policy and I commend you for upholding it," I replied swiftly to her giggling. "And, for transparency's sake, it was my brother." All their gazes latched onto me simultaneously. "Yes, I have a brother. His name is Rendall."

"Is he also serving in the Royal Navy?" Z23 asked before anyone else could.

"He used to," I replied. "He finished…I think it was a couple of tours and decided there are better things to do. Now he works at a software company."

"He was just checking in on you, I presume?" Howe said.

"Yep. He was about to leave when the first depth charge went. Then we really had to go."

"I see," she nodded.

"I has't a plan!" Vampire suddenly declared. We all looked at her with raised brows. "We shall inquire of this Rendall wheth'r Captain Leighway wast at each moment in his early years so phlegmatic!"

Howe laughed at the proposition. "What, we unearth some embarrassing stories along the way?"

Oh, goodness.

"Precisely," Vampire said to everyone's snickering. "Our captain shall showeth his true col'rs yet!"

"Yeah, I don't know if I'm completely on board with this plan of yours," I protested comically.

"No matter," Howe said confidently.

"The rest of us are," Eugen pointed out.

Luckily, I'd finished my food by then and was technically all clear to depart. "Alright, d'you know what? I've been helping around the kitchen for the past three days. It's all your turn. Show our guest how we do things around here, too." Getting up, I took my plate with me and deposited it in the sink along with my utensils. "Tell me if something happens. I'm going to get back to my papers."

They all laughed and bade me farewell. Though I figured it was a nice and a keeping-with-the-mood way to excuse myself, an inward sense of sadness took hold.

I'd have loved to spend more time with all of them. I felt that I'd made good progress with relationships between Howe, Eugen, and Zed. But Javelin, Vampire, and Charybdis were still more acquaintances than friends.

I started to chastise myself for not getting work done on time. What kind of officer am I? I still hadn't filed my final account from my previous posting under Holland. I still had to work on the mission logs for the past three days which was proving to be more of a slog than I'd anticipated thanks to the completely alien layout of the paperwork. What happened to me? I used to be on top of everything when I started. Maybe it was burnout.

I sighed as I pushed the door into my quarters. Maybe it was just excuses. My scattered notes were still splayed about on the tabletop in front of the window. Flipping the laptop open, it returned the four panels displaying four separate document inputs that should have been filled ages ago. I hesitated to key for a fifth, the report that would account for today's skirmish. No, I said firmly to myself. Four of these forms were enough clutter, even though they were virtual. I'd start the fifth when I could finish these first.

Proverbially slapping myself in the face, I told myself today was the day I'd crack down and get that done. I'd finish my account. Then brute force as much of the mission logs as I could.

It had come to supper when I finally saved and uploaded the first document before slumping tiredly in my seat and falling asleep where I sat.

Chapter Text

When I woke up, my eyelids still felt quite weighty. It took a few moments to register something had been draped on my shoulders, running down my back. Slowly taking it off revealed it to be a thin beige shawl that had a familiar scent. Howe must've dropped by for supper call and left it on me when she saw I was asleep.

That conclusion would be supported logically by the glass of water and plate with a sandwich underneath a plastic wrap to the right of the laptop. A charming little note on a tiny slip of paper was stuck to the toothpick where an olive might've gone. It read, Eat me!

A tinge of guilt hit when I read it, tossing the shawl gently onto the bed. Then a little ache began to radiate in my head. Perhaps I'd pushed myself a little too hard. But this isn't the first I've missed a quick snack, so surely Howe would understand. Then again, she'd told me she'd do something if I started getting affected. And damn it, my head hurts.

It is past midnight. I think I might as well just go to sleep–

Wait! I'd told myself earlier that I'd get as much done with the mission logs as I could. I'd be lying to myself if I didn't follow through for the nth time. Unwrapping the sandwich and waking the laptop once more, I steeped myself in the work once again. I guess it would be good to have a limit, though. Cutoff at 0100 hours, I told myself firmly, keeping awareness of the pain. And then, I opened the workspace.

Once again, I woke up slumped at the desk with a blanket or something over my shoulders. This time, however, my rousing start was made ten times more abrupt by someone who appeared to have been waiting for me.

"You missed supper last night," Howe said plainly. Guilt bubbled up in me more as she added, "And breakfast this morning. Just how late were you up last night? I couldn't wake you up if the ship were sinking!"

"Alright, I'm really sorry. Can I explain myself after breakfast? Thanks for the sandwich by the way," I added hoping to sound the nicest I could despite the grogginess tainting my words. It didn't help that I still had some residue from the headache last night.

She crossed her arms and deadpanned me sternly. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. It's eleven o'clock. You're technically having brunch now."

That was definitely not the right way to be addressing a superior officer but given the unique state my relationship with everyone in the force had been taking so far, it figures I might be able to let it slide. It isn't as if I have moral high ground to defend myself, anyway. I can't blame her. And, frankly, if I were in her position with the same motives and goals, I'd probably do the same thing. Results over etiquette. No matter what. "Right," I said slowly. "Apologies for missing that, too."

"Sure," she said though I doubted that had her usual full sincerity in it. "I'll grab you some food. Then you'll give me an answer to what's going on with you. A real one."

As she walked out of the room, I shook my head and the blanket off me, letting it fall laxly to the floor. Getting up and feeling the blood flow back into my legs was perhaps the sole proprietor of positive energy at my disposal, so I took it gladly, swinging them out gently to warm myself up all the way. Stretching to crack my back, an ever-cathartic sensation, I took a deep breath, letting my eyes refocus and my head stop swirling. The light pouring in from the windows indeed indicated that it was nearing midday. The sprawled notes and sleeping laptop sloppily laid out on the desk were proof enough of what had kept me up.

Thus, my plight. I receive prompts to accomplish a report, fill in a form, and write up a paper for the archive. Then, I start all these things promptly, as one would. Decent progress would be made, going up to what would be alright foundations for getting everything together. That was the danger zone, where my mentality shifted without warning, volatile as the weather at a mountain's peak. My subconscious would unrelentingly convince itself that guaranteed accomplishment was somehow cemented with just those foundations. Obviously, a foolish non-discernment. Unfortunately, one not so easily corrected.

And so it went. The requirements to accomplish reports, fill forms, and write statements would accumulate. Perhaps these don't sound overly numerous – and frankly, they aren't – but the initial authoring plus run-through after run-through made it very meticulous work. So, when that mental snag hits me, it hits like a truck. All of the sudden, any capacity for professional commitment was pitched out the window like a fastball.

Here is the crux of the issue. If I were to fall short on my duties – if any one person were to fall short on their duties out here – that might mean one innocent person would be devoted to peril back home. The war that might kill them and myself…

I had to do more.

I had to be doing so much more than this if I were to protect the people I cared about.

Yet, here I am. Short on deadlines. Still recovering from a miserably sleep-deprived work frenzy. Having disappointed one of the nicest people I'd barely just met with my…perhaps the word is incompetence.

Just as suddenly, Howe returned to rip me out of my self-beratement. I supposed that if our previous exchanges from the past few days were any indication, I would soon be voicing a lot of those grievances aloud. I could only hope that I was ready to deliver it with conviction and that I was ready to let her help. Because if I weren't, then…what am I even doing here? "Here's your food," she said. "Beef broth from the other day. And some fruit."

I took notice of the accompanying apple that had been placed on the side of the dish and nodded. "Thank you, really." She hummed shortly and went silent as I took a scoop of the soup. "That's still good stuff," I said, making a rather forced attempt at lightheartedness.

"Sure it is," she said. It pained me slightly when that didn't brighten her up at least a little. "Don't try and shift lanes. You fell asleep at your desk at some point past midnight. I know because you ate the sandwich. I can usually brush that off. I've seen some friends – even myself at some points – pull shifts like that. And I know some people can make themselves go for much longer," she shook her head. "But that doesn't mean it's healthy regardless. The paperwork doesn't sound all that dense, the way you're making it out to be. Yet I've long suspected that isn't the case. So, do you want to clear things up for me?"

I sighed and set the spoon down, the need to have breakfast subsiding if only to get Howe back to her usual self. Surprisingly – or not so, once again considering the circumstance and brief history – I'd grown an attachment to her disposition. Correspondingly, it hurt to see her like this. So, I was going to rectify that. Even if it meant my stomach would have to grumble and wait. "I was working on some backlogged papers," I said softly, fresh shame rearing its ugly head. "One of them was due for recording last week. I finished it yesterday evening after really slogging it. Then I needed to log forms for the first three days of our mission. Well, four, now," I corrected myself tiredly.

Howe shook her head. "Why didn't you finish the first one last week, then? And what happened with the mission logs? I was under the impression those needed to be accomplished day-by-day unless circumstances were extraordinary in some way."

To me, these circumstances are kind of extraordinary. But I reprimanded myself inwardly for thinking that. There was nothing special about what was happening. At least, not for an officer who was deemed qualified for this position. "I…"

Just before the next word could spill out, I felt my face heat up. A sudden reflexive contortion seemed to have wrested control of my face, forcing my lips into a frown and my eyes to shut. That incited some moisture to start flowing out.

Damn it, I thought to myself. Immediately, my breaths slowed and my heart which I'd only now noticed had been kicking up calmed down. Drying the mist from my eyes before opening them, I looked Howe dead in hers. Another soft wave of guilt, though accompanied by something else I couldn't quite place, washed over me when I saw hints of her heartfelt concern starting to show.

"I used to be able to do that," I continued with an air of regret. "But now, I see even just five documents, and my motivation gets–" I clicked my fingers for effect, "–sapped out. It's…incredibly infuriating. Whenever I try to do something about it or force myself to start, which usually works, I end up getting sidetracked and focused on something else entirely instead. Case in point," I gestured with a hand, "the past four days."

Howe nodded understandingly but had the odd sense to know there was still something more. She picks up on things like that.

"I've synthesized a few factors for me to blame and focus improvement on," I said. "Foremost is, much like the task force itself, the kind of papers they require changed, too. That, and I'm an overseeing officer now. I suppose it's natural that things were much easier when all I needed to take care of was a quick notification regarding my flotilla and then handing that off to the Admiral so he handles the compiling. But now that that responsibility's on me…"

"You're realizing just now how strenuous the work is," Howe finished.

"Yeah," I nodded. "It's ridiculous, though," I added my voice suddenly getting a shade exasperated. "Who on earth needs reports so detailed? There are three separate fields for the first and second halves of the day, plus a completely redundant general synthesis! And then for combat engagements, I need to collect individual statements, too. That makes zero sense! You'd think the system was designed by a high school student who was trying too hard. How does McConnell put up with it?"

"Well, since you asked that…I only heard the gist of it from chats with Monarch but," Howe began slowly, rubbing her chin. Markedly, her tone had at least softened. "I believe the Commander lets people write their own statements plus parts of the mission log itself that they might fill better, in the case of combat. As for regular logs for days when nothing but conversation and less extravagant developments happen," she continued, slowly constructing her sentence, "he and Monarch simply split the work."

That's interesting. "Huh. I would've thought to ask him that, but I'd underestimated how far in-depth I'd have to go," I said, processing her information. "So, he essentially has a…secretary?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "Now I think I've figured out what's happened to you and what's causing the demotivation."

I raised my brow and sat up. "Ah yeah?"

"Yep," she said confidently. "You're experiencing burnout."

"Burnout."

"Yep."

"As in, I'm burnt out," I repeated slowly.

"Exactly."

"How?" I chuckled, a little hesitant to accept the reasoning. "It was my understanding that burnout only really happens when the work gets heavy. It honestly wasn't that heavy until the mission started."

"Yes, but you still had work in your prior posting, no?" She asked.

I nodded. "But, again, it was much lighter."

"But work is work," she pointed out. "And deadlines are deadlines." It felt like what I'd done on the battlefield, she'd now reversed on me off it. Hone your deduction skills, James.

Admittedly, it hadn't come to my attention that even those seemingly mundane tasks might've been contributing to slowly wearing away my capacity for them, however light the load might have been. That would explain the gradual decline in my fervor to get things done, and why the mission seemed to have exacerbated it to a far worse degree so suddenly. "So, what you're telling me is that the little things pile up."

"There you go," she said. "You've got it. How exactly were you going about those 'little papers?'"

I shrugged. "Well, I'd start everything at once, then slowly make prog–" The realization hit me when Howe's eyes widened, and she slumped subtly on the bedside where she sat. "Right," I nodded, understanding coming up to speed. "Yeah, now that I say it like that, that sounds like an awful idea."

"You'd start everything at once then slowly build all of them up," she finished the sentence for me. "James, how did you survive academy?"

A chuckle I couldn't suppress slipped out and my cheeks started heating up again, though for a different reason this time. Palming my face, I replied through the gaps in my fingers, "Shut up." Lowering my hand, I looked at her and we both started snickering. "I just…did things like that. It worked well all the way up until now."

"And no one ever told you multitasking like that was a bad idea?" She asked.

"I always met my deadlines," I said defensively.

"Unbelievable," she shook her head. "No. I don't buy it. Your time management must have been excellent."

I snapped my fingers as I arrived at a realization. "That was it! I always had a very set-in-stone schedule. When I signed onto the Navy, that was lost. Suddenly, anything could happen anytime, which is why my usual workflow wasn't going as well as it usually does."

"Goodness," she giggled. "Well, I suppose you'll learn to connect things like that much faster in time."

"Oh, you–," I jokingly admonished her.

She giggled playfully and moved the conversation forward when I sighed and tried to get my ruffled hair a little more under control. "Alright, I've decided," she said. "I'm going to help you get through all this."

"How so," I furrowed a brow.

"I volunteer as your secretary."

I was about to protest when I considered the easy and obvious variables. She is my flagship, meaning we'd have the most time one-on-one out of anyone else. We'd also grown quite close, meaning our working relationship should be spurred on by our personal one, provided professional boundaries were set. And she had a good eye for detail, indicated at the very least by her skill in the kitchen which I still had no hope of catching up with. So far, most of my 'lessons' had simply been waiting for the pots. A job – as I'd slowly come to appreciate why it originated the expression watched-pot wait – that was quite taxing on one who wasn't too used to actively waiting on a pot to boil. That's an issue for later, though. "Alright," I replied. "I hereby declare you my secretary of the fleet."

She picked up on the humor and giggled lightly. "I am honored at the privilege," she replied, bowing mock-ceremoniously. "What's our agenda for the rest of today so that I can start keeping a tasklist?"

"Well," I said, pausing to think. "First, I'd like to chat with Charybdis and Vampire respectively, similar to Zed and Eugen from the other day. Then, depending on how long that takes, you and I can either prepare for dinner or start making dents in the dense paperwork. After that–"

Just then, my stomach growled. Howe snickered cheekily and said, "After that, I don't think we should worry about first. You need to get the rest of that brunch in you."

"Sure, yeah," I relented with a soft laugh.

"I'll come back to retrieve you when you're full and freshened up," she added, standing up and making her way to the door. Except, just as I was starting to scoop another helping of food, I felt a weight press against my back and two arms wrapping warmly around me. "Take care of yourself, alright?" Howe said as she hugged me from behind the chair.

My heart skipped a beat as the gravity of the moment crashed down. My face flared white-hot, and I hastily set the spoon down, splashing some drops of soup on the tabletop. Thankfully, none of it stained any of the papers. Uncertainly, I put a hand over hers and squeezed. "Copy that."

She whispered something unintelligible before letting go of me and finally walking out the door, leaving me stunned and my hunger hushed.

Wow, I mused to myself. That was…interesting. Maybe even a little out of nowhere, but I supposed looking at the 'change of pace' being on this team brought, it was simply another idiosyncrasy completely to be expected. As I grew attached to Howe even though most of our conversations up until now had been entirely casual, it would be reasonable to assume that goes both ways to develop into something more platonic. I chuckled to myself. Still thinking like a tactician.

I brushed off the rest of my thoughts to get focused on eating again, save for her parting words to me. Take care of yourself.

With newly refreshed insights garnered from our brief (and just a smidge emotional) conversation, I vowed to do just that when my stomach seemed to regain its senses and badgered me to get back to the food.

"Oh, hello, master!" Charybdis greeted enthusiastically as we found her brewing something up in the galley of her ship. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, the most pertinent question for me," I gestured in the direction of the bow, "would be about those missile tubes on your deck."

Charybdis raised a brow before processing the question, understanding flickering onto her face. "Oh! Those are the Ac-1 missiles," she explained simply. "I was the one selected for them to be installed, remember?"

"Well, now I do. My mind was…" I paused as Howe gave me a knowing look and I returned it with a soft chuckle. "My mind was fogged with a lot of other things recently. It should start clearing up, though, so that's nice."

"Oh, that is nice to hear!" The maid chittered innocently, perhaps unaware of the weighted discussion Howe and I had regarding those 'other things.' "Anyway, please have a seat, then we can chat all about it! Would you two fancy coffee or tea?"

"Tea, if you would please," Howe replied courteously.

"Hot chocolate," I replied immediately after. The two looked at me with playful frowns. I knew exactly what was coming, though, and responded accordingly. "What? Call it a child's drink, but it tastes nice to most, still gives me a good jump of energy, and allows me to take neither side in that debate."

Howe cupped her mouth and failed at concealing her quiet laughter.

Charybdis tittered but nodded nonetheless. "Very good, Captain. A coffee and a hot chocolate, coming up!"

I wasn't too keen on waiting until she was finished with her preparations, however. Thanks to my stunt with the papers, I'd already wasted half the day, doubling the time pressure. I still made sure not to rush her, though. That wouldn't be fair. "Why wasn't the missile installation in any of the written briefs," I asked as we headed for one of the tables.

"Oh, I can inform you about that in a bit if you'd like." Welp. So much for time pressure. "But essentially, it was to keep the confidentiality of the weapon system. They tried to make the tubes look as inconspicuous as possible. The workers from the port were told to pretend it was an advanced communications array of some sort."

"I don't know how effective that would've been," I joked. "People know what missiles and tubes look like."

The maid shrugged as she put two chocolate blocks into a mug. "The Royal Navy tries."

"Yes, I suppose it does." I decided that trying to force conversation immediately like this would effectively slow us down in the long run, making patience the more sustainable option for now. So, I started up a quick chat with Howe while we waited for our drinks. "Did you not tell anyone else I was still asleep?"

"Well, for one, I thought you'd be embarrassed. So, I didn't," Howe replied. "And, either the calls they were making were things I could handle myself, or I told them you were very busy. Which is a half-truth if we stretch it," she added.

A sprinkling of dry humor was on throughout her words, making me smirk. At least she was already willing to laugh about it. "I guess it is."

"I also knew I needed to carve myself a path to you opening up, so, the extra work on me was warranted," she said. "You gave me a real answer, so I can thus give you real help."

"Thank you for being a real one," I replied. "All too difficult to find one of those nowadays."

"I am inclined to agree." We both paused to look at Charybdis pouring some milk into a mug before Howe said, "What brings you to ask that question?"

I shrugged, "Just wondering."

Charybdis suddenly appeared beside the table with a cup that had a bag hanging out of it by a thread in one hand, and a mug that said #1 Captain in the other. "Here you are," she said as she set the two drinks down in front of us.

I snickered at the print on my mug as she pulled a chair out from under the table and sat. "Did you accommodate a commanding officer before?"

Her cheeks colored in a faint blush. "Well–"

"Oh, hang on," I nodded, "I get it. You have a number one mug for every rank, don't you?" My creasing smirk could no longer be helped.

"A maid comes prepared!" She chirped, though her face and voice rendered any real impact into an adorable squee.

"No, no," I appeased her gently. "I'm not judging, I just think that's a little funny." She pouted a little as I took a little sip of the drink. "And, barring all that," I nodded approvingly, "it is good hot chocolate."

"You missed an opportunity to ask her if there was 'another man,'" Howe inserted as Charybdis started glowing at the compliment. Now, the maid had once again gone beet-red.

My eyes widened in surprise. "Howe?"

The blonde set her teaspoon down as she started laughing heartily in her seat. "I'm sorry," she said between breaths, "I'm sorry. That was just too perfect–"

"Right," I shook my head sarcastically. "I apologize for my secretary's behavior, Charybdis. She's in quite the playful mood right now, as you can see."

The light cruiser was clearing her throat and fighting to clear her cheeks of the rosy tinge. "Oh, it's alright, Captain. Humor is essential for clearing stress."

So she picked up on the 'other things,' too.

"See?" Howe chipped in once again, having recollected herself. "You're already starting to smile more, too!"

I scratched the back of my head. "Sure, sure," I said. "Let's get on to business, shall we? Don't worry, it should be quick. I wanted to ask you, Charybdis, if you've self-assessed your abilities with the missiles."

"Oh," she said. "Well, I've had a glimpse at the targeting interface. It's very different from a regular cannon, but the reticule and accompanying readings are sufficiently self-explanatory. I think I'll require some target practice if you wish for me to hit directly and consistently, though."

I nodded thoughtfully, sipping some more chocolate. "So noted."

"Maybe I could help you," Howe offered Charybdis. "If I can have a look at the interface, I may yet give you some pointers on targeting at even longer ranges. Though, I've never worked with missiles before, either. None of my projectiles are self-propelling, in case you two haven't noticed." Charybdis and I chuckled as Howe continued, "But I have a feeling I can still assist if you want me to."

"I think that would be most useful," Charybdis said.

"Yeah," I nodded. "A second pair of eyes would be in any situation."

"Mhm." "Yep!"

"So, that's arranged, then. Can you get yourself well-acquitted with the system by the time we get to Norway," I asked Charybdis. "That's in roughly three days."

"I believe so, Captain," she said with what I felt was as much confidence as she could muster.

"Very good," I nodded.

The next thirty minutes passed as the three of us proceeded with the small talk and petty banter that I always so enjoyed. Crucially, I felt a new sense of relief. The background noise nagging me to get back to work was slowly being muted.

"Next up on the list is Vampire," I told Howe as we talked back to the Charybdis' deck. Charybdis herself had taken it upon herself to clean up after us so that we could underway, an arrangement I wasn't going to protest. "I guess we might as well bundle in Javelin, too. Would you prefer to rest first before we do that? From there, it'll be straight onto dinner and then paperwork in the evening, so there might not be time for anything beyond a power nap."

As if on cue, a yawn came about her. "Well, I suppose that answers the question," she giggled. "Will you be lying in, too?"

"Noperinoes," I said. "I've been asleep half the day while you've been covering for me." I held up a finger as she made to rebuke, "Even if it was 'easy' work, I still don't feel it's fair if we both have a siesta at this time. You deserve the rest, don't worry about it. I'll just be up on the bridge to keep watch." And maybe to get started on an exit strategy too, I added in my head. If things were to get hairy at Håkøya, I very much wanted to be ready.

"Alright! Now," she gestured playfully. "Come on! I'll give you a piggyback."

I rolled my eyes but went along with it. Unfortunately, they still hadn't figured out shoes that would allow us regular folk to skate on the waves too. Oh, well. With time.

It was probably one and a half hours when Howe woke up from her sleep and we set off to the agreed-upon meeting place aboard the Vampire. The battle plan was coming along nicely if I might say so to myself, however self-assured it may be. There were still many moving pieces that needed to be fit into place – such as Javelin, Vampire, and our newest addition U1206 – but nothing that I couldn't handle. We'd arrive in Norway in three days. That would be enough time.

When Howe and I reached the Vampire and began making for the galley, I couldn't help but peer at the curious decorative choices the girl had made when deciding the look of her ship.

Though not necessarily sinister, the environment was certainly distinctly lower-light than most others. Warm glows played much of the illumination, and the paint along the inner corridors was a darker shade of gray. When we turned the corner into the meeting room, Vampire and Javelin were wrapped in enthusiastic chatter about something or other.

The two destroyers noticed us, and they waved. "Hello, Captain! Miss Howe!" "Greetings!"

"Hello," we replied in sync. Strangely, they gasped theatrically and started giggling. "What's happening?" I asked as we took our seats, Howe next to Vampire, and myself next to Javelin on the other side of the table.

"Oh, nothing~," the white-haired girl teased.

My arse, I thought sarcastically.

"So, what did you want from us, Captain?" Javelin asked, happy-go-lucky as ever.

Brushing chatter aside and considering that it was already three-thirty, I decided to get things underway and save the rest for supper. "It's about the mission. I'll start with you, Vampire," I explained. "How do you feel I might maximize you on the battlefield?"

"I like to bethink I can playeth a part in an effective screen," she replied after some thought.

"That makes sense," I nodded. "Destroyers are protectors. I noticed that you and Javelin are quite friendly with each other.

She tilted her head inquisitively. "Does that playeth a part in aught?"

"Of course it does," I replied simply. "Unfortunately, I don't have nearly enough data on either of you to gauge team cohesion properly, but maybe you can at least offer me some insight. If I were to assign you to make fast, sweeping maneuvers whilst dropping an accurate torpedo spread, would you be confident in doing so reliably?"

Big damage, fast. As Z23 had said.

"Aye," Vampire replied. "Some preparation bef'rehand wouldst be for the best, of course, but I can do it."

"Good," I nodded before looking at Javelin. "And you, Javelin. Would you be able to cooperate fluidly with Vampire in a more fast-paced engagement?"

"Yes, sir," Javelin said brightly. "I'm used to working with almost everyone in the Royal Navy. We're familiar with what the other has to offer, so you can count on us!"

Her disposition proved to be infectious, and I cracked a grin. "That's wonderful to hear. Well, I suppose that about wraps us up–"

"You smiled again!" Howe cut me off. I wondered where she was concealing her sarcasm while Javelin snickered and Vampire cupped her cheek playfully.

"Yes, okay," I began, making sure my own sarcasm was clear as the sun currently bolting for the horizon. "Are you just going to keep pointing that out?"

Howe smirked. "Yes."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, letting her have her small victories. "Anyway, as I was saying before we were interrupted. We're wrapped up for the business side of things unless either of you has something you want to ask of me."

"I do!" Javelin chirped.

"Go ahead."

"Why are you asking us these questions? Not that finding out more about us is strange," she said, "but the talk about how you'd 'maximize us on the field' seemed a little specific."

I sighed and evaluated my options. They were going to find out one way or another, regardless of whether it came from me or some wayward spillage of confidential information. Part of the picture should do. "I've received talk of potential ambushes set up in the region we'll be heading to," I said gently. The two destroyers' eyes widened in surprise. "I promise to give you all the details a day before we arrive. That's in about two days," I said. "Until then, please do not be so overanxious as to gossip it to the rest of the force. It's confidential for good reason, and you are to be briefed at the set time for good reason. Understood?"

They exchanged glances before each nodding uncertainly. "Aye, Captain."

"Alright," I nodded. "If that's the only question, then we'll be on our way. You two be on the lookout for supper call, yeah?"

A much more enthusiastic Aye, Captain was my response, and Howe and I made back for the flagship.

When we arrived, Howe offered a suggestion. "I think we should take it slowly from here on out. We still have the rest of today and this evening. Although, I think it would also be wise to have supper an hour earlier. What d'you make of it?"

"Ah, an hour earlier so we have more time to work afterward," I surmised. "Yeah, that is a smart move. Go on ahead. I'll take a quick nap and wait for the call."

"Sure! Sweet dreams," she grinned.

I returned the sentiment. "Thank you. Have fun with the watch."

She saluted playfully. "Aye, aye, Captain!"

I could hear her giggling as we went our separate ways.

Chapter Text

There was a knock on my door that prompted a scramble to get some used clothes, a dirty dish that I'd used for a quick bite, and some disorderly papers a little less unsightly. I wasn't exactly in uniform but, considering I'd already seen Howe in nothing but a nightgown and she'd seen me in trunks, I wasn't too concerned about the white shirt/dark gray shorts motif I had going.

At last opening the door, Howe had dressed in a similarly casual manner, though at least it wasn't just a nightgown this time. Instead, she wore a pastel shirt that had charming text on it reading, 'Keep your head full of dreams!,' very comfortable-looking pajama pants, and teal-and-pink striped socks. She had a laptop clutched under her left arm, along with her mobile.

"Good evening, Howe," I greeted, gesturing into the room.

"Good evening, James," she replied happily as ever. "What will our working situation be like?" She looked around the room and the way it was laid out.

"Well, I suppose I'll be at my desk. You can sit wherever you like," I said. "It is your ship."

"Well, it may be my ship, but technically speaking, it's also yours," she pointed out. "Ooh! Interesting question. Does that make me yours?" She wondered aloud before plopping herself onto the bed and getting nestled up, flipping her computer open as she set her phone on the side.

I looked at her with a frozen expression as my brain felt like it had just been put out of commission, cheeks flaring up. "W-what?"

"It's called a joke, C3PO," she tittered playfully.

At least there was my first opening. "You've watched Star Wars," I asked while recovering from the 'joke' and sitting back down at my desk.

"Mhm," she hummed. "It was a great film, and since I was bored without much to do until very recently, I watched through the episodes at my leisure." My brow raised and we looked at each other. A smirk creased my lips when I noticed a faint blush start to color her cheeks. "Okay, I binged all nine of them in less than a week. But it was really entertaining the whole way through! I have no regrets and you can't blame me," she said defensively.

I chuckled fondly at her and held my hands up in a disarming fashion. "I'm not blaming you for anything," I reassured. "I love those movies, too. Really good fun. Which one's your favorite?"

"The second one."

What?

"Well, technically, it's Episode Five, isn't it," she added. "But, either way, that one's my favorite. The Empire Strikes Back! Simply thrilling. My eyes were glued to the screen every second of it."

She had me in the first half there, not going to lie. "Alright, alright," I nodded. "I thought you meant Attack of the Clones."

"Oh!" She laughed knowingly. "No, no. But I don't understand the hate it gets regardless. I still had fun watching that, too!"

"I respect that," I replied with a hint of playful chiding. "I wouldn't say I agree, but I respect it. What was your favorite part from Empire?"

To my relief, Howe had the good sense to dodge that Prequels versus Originals debate entirely. "It may sound a little cliché, but the opening battle sequence with the massive walking tanks was everything," she twittered.

"The AT-ATs? That's what they're called," I asked, another grin starting to show itself.

"Yeah, those!" She nodded enthusiastically. "I know they belong to the bad guys, but I think that makes them even cooler. The sound that their guns make, too?"

"Exquisite," I said, answering her prompt. "Everything about those things is just designed to be as aesthetically wizard as possible. Maybe not the most practical walkers from the universe, but they are the most iconic for sure."

She giggled lightly. "I didn't expect you to be a Star Wars fan."

"I didn't expect you to be one either," I countered. "Now, as much as I'd like to chatter on about that, I believe we are convened for professional purposes."

Her expression took on a sense of seriousness and she sat up, fingers working her keyboard. "Right we are," she said. "Where do we start?"

Though we were making much better progress than if I were working completely on my own, perhaps it was only inevitable that chattering on about small talk and, eventually, little tidbits from our personal lives would crop up again. As it so happened, when I figured the first two reports were about completed and leaned back in my seat to take a breather, Howe had just the question in mind to kick us off.

"What are things like with your brother," she asked. Her computer had been propped up on a pillow in her lap when we were working. In the meantime, though, she'd put it aside in favor of leaning back on the headboard with her legs tucked, hugging the pillow to her body and waiting expectantly for my answer.

I swiveled my chair around to face the bed and shrugged. "What is there to say? I think we're pretty close. We have been ever since, really," I said. "We hang around with each other when we can, catch up, support one another, and the like. Of course, you know music was a big thing for us before other stuff started keeping us preoccupied."

"Oh," she replied, sitting up a little. "That's nice!"

"Sure," I nodded. "I actually do feel rather blessed to be part of such a tight-knit family. I hear people say their parents are boring, or they can't really engage with their siblings, or what have you. But I say that viewpoint only came about either because of the culture that surrounded them, or simply a laxer approach to really trying to be with each other."

"Interesting you should say that," she said. "I mean, I get the whole lax approach thing. What do you mean about the culture?"

"Well," I said hesitantly, inclining my head back and forth before deciding casual chatter with Howe about my past wouldn't do any harm. "I was born and raised until I was twelve years old in the Philippines."

That piqued her interest. She set the pillow aside and returned to her sitting position, scooching closer on top of the bed for a more engaged conversation. "Really? What was that like?"

"As I alluded to," I began, "the culture there is quite different from places in the west. My mum is part Filipina, so that might say something. My dad moved there for his job and that's how they met. Really hospitable bunch, the lot of them. I think some of that rubbed off on our family."

"Fascinating," Howe mused.

"They had my brother five years before I came along," I continued. "Apparently, even then, mum's side of the family was very close to us and each other."

"And do you still keep in touch with your mum's side of the family?" She asked.

"I do," I replied. "Mainly some of the cousins and an aunt and uncle of mine. Some of the nicest people I've ever known," I said a little wistfully.

"They sound lovely," she said with bright approval. "Then when did you come over to England?"

"Mum and Dad decided there were better opportunities for Rendall and me here. They also figured it would be easier in the long run if we received the rest of our education here," I replied. "That decision, I am quite thankful for. Not to knock the Philippines, of course. I consider England my home, but the Philippines is undeniably a part of my roots. Either way, unfortunately, there weren't many good professional prospects there at the time. I hear it might be a little better now, though, their prime export is still people."

"I see," she said, very much invested in my life story. "And how'd you end up in the Royal Navy?"

"My brother joined because he figured it might be interesting," I said. "I followed suit because I figured I might as well. Not a very theatrical reason, I know," I joked. "Then, he eventually left in favor of civilian life. That was probably two years before the first waves of bullshittery happened."

"Ironic," Howe quipped, catching onto the dry humor. "What persuaded you to stay?"

"Well, aside from the hassle of getting papers and such in," I began, "it was decent work, and I felt I could handle the job for a good few years. Plus, with Sirens starting to run amok, I had the same reasoning my brother had for joining in the first place. This time, it definitely got very interesting. So I went, making my rounds. People started to take notice of my, and I quote, aptitude for the battlefield. Before I knew it, I was made Captain."

"That is an incredibly fast rise through the ranks," she replied with a hint of skepticism.

"Well, apparently, they think I'm just that good," I said with sprinklings of pride I rarely allowed myself to indulge in. Perhaps I could a smidge with Howe. "Or maybe it was the...massive vacuum that happened when the Siren took out some very important folk that one time."

Howe inhaled through her teeth and shook her head at the mention of that one time. She let the silence hang for a bit before redirecting back on track. "So, you were so good that you sped through what should've taken you a decade in…how many years?"

"Five or some such timespan," I said trying to remember while also brushing off the heavy alternative topic.

"You did it twice as fast as anyone should have been able to," she shook her head. "No way. I think all this is just your world and we're stuck living in it!"

I laughed. "Some world." Her peppy demeanor always seems to suck the darkness out of a room. I love that about her.

She chuckled along with me and sighed. "Tell me about it. I sometimes wonder why that was my motto."

"'God's will be done,'" I quoted from memory. "What about it?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "It's like it tells me to shape the world the way God would want it. But that doesn't make sense! Others have been following that motto, yet there's still so much war and suffering. If He's out there, then why is any of this happening? Surely, His vision of the world can't be a messy system like this one."

Inwardly, I grinned. All of us certainly pondered those questions one way or another throughout our lives, and it was admittedly a pleasant surprise to find that Howe, too, had them in her head. "That's a great thought," I nodded. "I've been looking for an answer to that, too."

"Have you found one," she asked, a genuine curiosity in her voice that was a breath of fresh air that stood in stark contrast to what fiery breakdowns would usually happen in discussions of faith and religion.

"No," I confessed. "I am sure of something, though."

"That is?"

"He's out there. Somewhere," I replied.

"What makes you say that?"

I looked at her and smirked, wondering how she'd respond if I answered her now. After some evaluation, I decided it would be best to save it. "We can talk about that at a later time. How are things with your sisters?"

Seemingly jarred by the change in subject, she recoiled subtly in her place. "Wait, what? What d'you mean a later time?"

I shrugged and gave her an earnest look. "I'll be honest here, Howe. A journey in faith is something deeply personal. Others find themselves detached from it if they follow one path. Others find themselves so deeply involved that they unwittingly become zealots. I think a measured, logical approach is the best way to go about it."

She furrowed a brow. "Your point being? Sorry if that sounded a little rude," she added hastily.

"No, it's alright," I grinned. "My point is, I'm taking my time with it, and you should, too. I'm sure we'll find our answers eventually, but not because we try to force it out of our own overthinking or confirmation biases. That's just unhealthy."

"Fair," she said. "I guess we can discuss it at a later time."

"Sure," I nodded. "Until then, though, perhaps my question will be more immediately answerable."

"Guess so," she said. "I've been lucky enough to be somewhat like you and Rendall in that regard. I've been on good terms with all four of them from the start, just with varying degrees of closeness. George has always been very caring for me, but sometimes I can't help but feel she treats me like a child."

I snickered as a little joke slipped out. "You may not be a child, but I can certainly see why she might feel that way."

"What?" Howe tilted her head.

Realizing what I'd just said and ramping my sentence construction alertness up, I replied, "Well, she's your elder sister, let alone being the eldest out of all of you. At least, if I'm referencing the launch dates correctly. Am I?"

"You are," she affirmed before quipping, "Surprising, all things considered."

"I know," I played along. "Anyway, I think she might just be doting on you because you're effectively the baby of the family," I laughed.

"But I'm not a baby!" She protested, very much emulating a distressed young girl. "I have an adult form and an adult thinking process just like the rest of them...although Wales and Duke of York do still confuse me sometimes," her tone lost its conviction for a second. "But still! If anything, Monarch's the baby."

"I believe you," I said.

"Thanks," she replied, not having noticed the sly grin that was, against my best efforts, creasing itself on my lips. When she did, though, her face took on a slight pout. "Wait. Oh, come on! Not you, too!"

I held my hands up and giggled for what felt like the first time in far, far too long. "Okay, okay! I mean no disrespect," I reassured her. "You just have a very sweet personality. I think that's lovely! You shouldn't be so perturbed if someone sees you as a generally wholesome person to be with. That's a good thing," I said.

"Well, yeah, but sometimes it just…I don't know," she floundered and shrugged.

"Look, there's a difference between being childish and childlike. One of those can light up a room while the other doesn't help anyone. You tend more towards the latter, whether you're conscious of it or not. I can personally guarantee you everyone sees that, George being a doting older sister included."

Howe nodded slowly, seeming to consider my points, tossing and turning them in her head. "Do...you speak from experience?"

"I do speak from a little bit," I replied. "Though I think the dynamics between brothers and sisters can differ in some ways."

"Surely," she replied.

"What's that dynamic like with the five of you," I asked.

"Well, as I've hinted at, I'd consider myself closest to George. Monarch comes in second, followed by Wales and then Yorkie," she replied. "Those last two tend to stick to themselves most of the time or have other associates to hang around with."

"Do York and Vampire 'hang around' often," I said with an undertone of humor.

Howe caught on instantly. "Oh, bugger off. That was an awful pun." Despite her admonishing, a grin started folding itself on her lips. "Seriously, that was terrible. Take that back."

"I will not yield," I replied ceremoniously. "Anyway, you call her Yorkie, do you?"

She shook her head and chuckled my pun off. "Yes, to avoid confusion with the cruiser York. Exeter's sister?"

"They sound familiar," I narrowed my eyes, trying to pull the names out of stored memory. "Regardless, I think I'll stick to York or Duke until she grants me permission to refer to her the same way you do."

Howe inclined her head. "Might have to wait a while, then. At least, until we get back."

I shrugged. "It's two weeks. Barely any time." We paused briefly and sat in the atmosphere of the other's company before I piped up again. "Back to work?"

She nodded and cracked her knuckles, moving back up to her working position against the headboard and sliding the computer onto her lap. "Back to work."

After going through the checklists for the next hour and a half, I decided to finally call it when we hit a snag that couldn't immediately be cleared before moving forward. Pushing my chair back from the desk and stretching my arms up, yawning, I said, "Looks like we're all good."

"Yes," Howe said, the sleepiness in her voice now fully apparent. I could tell she was slowly starting to lose her cheery energy some two hours in, but she insisted that if I felt we needed to stop only at a certain point, she'd help me get there. "How long have we been at it for?"

"Since our last break," I flapped my lips and looked at the time, "An hour and a half. Since we started after supper, four hours."

Her eyes widened momentarily. "So, it's eleven o'clock?"

"Yep," I said.

"And in that time we got through your first three mission logs and filled out a majority of the fourth which was when the ambush happened," she said. "Minus the individual reports which we need to collect by the morning of the day after tomorrow if we don't want this backlogged."

"Yep," I laughed. "Two are better than one after all."

She grinned and continued, "Then, we need to log today's events, though that should just be an easy c-and-p. That, plus the compilation of the IRs can be done tomorrow, plus the log for tomorrow as well," she paused for dramatic effect, "which finally clears us of any backlogs and overlapping work."

We both slumped in our places in unison, tired from the slog. Yet, I noted to myself, that there is a distinction between this tiredness and the tiredness I used to feel. It isn't tiredness that culminated in me hating myself or beating myself up for not working everything I needed to completion. It was tiredness that patted me on the back and told me that I—no, that we had done a good job.

"Thank you so much for doing this," I piped up, turning the chair to face her. "Seriously, it means the world to me."

Howe smiled at me through her fatigue, giving me a fuzzy feeling in my chest. "Don't worry, James. We're all here for you so long as you're our friend."

Not your commanding officer, I mused to myself, but your friend. Something about that caressed my heart in a way that made it purr serenely. "Thank you for that, too. That means a whole lot more."

Grinning, she shut her computer off and got up off the bed. "Right! I suppose I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast."

"Sure thing," I replied, following her with my eyes on her way out. "Oh, which one of us is collecting the IRs? I can do it since you'll be—"

She held a hand up, silencing me in an instant. "No, no. I'll worry about that, and then we can work together to compile it."

I evaluated the proposition in my head before deciding that it made more sense. It opened up timeslots to properly oversee the task force without some dark premonitions about professional incompetence clouding my mind. That also allowed me to do one other thing.

Without protest, I nodded. "Alright, that works. As a matter of fact, that's perfect, since I've been meaning to have a few words with U1206 before we hit Norway. I get the feeling we're going to need to get creative out there, and she'll be instrumental to getting us out of it."

"You're the strategist here, James," Howe replied as she opened the door gently. "There's no doubt about that among any of us. Just tell us where to go when you need us there."

We locked eyes as she stepped over the threshold. I couldn't help a grin of my own. "Thank you for a third time for the trust. I hope I don't disappoint."

"You haven't until now," she yawned before pointing at me. "And you won't. Good evening, James! I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you too!"