Chapter Text
A small, white yacht-turned-diplomatic vessel lies docked, resting beside a much larger hulking steel ship. Upon the makeshift dock, constructed only within the last few months, flutter two flags in the Mozambican sun — one yellow, defaced by a black Lorraine cross encased within a white rhombus, and the other a black-white-red tricolor bearing the words "Freis Deutschland". Both represent "Free" governments of their respective nations.
Aboard the deck of the larger ship wait three Free TPOTGese officials; at the head of the delegation is the diplomatic officer, Nerida Halloran, a resolute, olive-skinned woman with a decade of service in the diplomatic corps. Trailing behind her is intelligence operative Sasha Falke, herself a human with a Majorian background, and finally (Human) Vulpen naval officer Okoth Odanga.
From behind a door of steel comes a young officer, introducing himself as Flaggleutnant¹ Eisner; the dirty blonde is the aide-de-camp to the ship's commander. He dons a traditional dark blue coat and naval cap, with noticeable patchwork over his coat's right chest — where his Parteiadler² once was.
"My friends, this... this is the Battleship Bismarck! He³ is just wonderful, isn't he? The pride of Germany!" Eisner trails off mid sentence and mutters under his breath. "Maybe all there is to be proud of anymore."
The Flaggleutnant ushers the group inside, leading them through the steel labyrinth, allowing for introductions as they walk.
"So, Falke? Hmm, German name, no? Like a falcon. It is most interesting to see someone with such a name. What is its origin here, Ms. Falke?"
The woman stares ahead, unsure of where this small talk is going. "Inquiring about my ancestry so soon, Herr Eisner? I was led to believe this band was better than the Berliners."
Eisner rushed to reassure his guests. "No, no, I don't mean it like that. We're just not very informed about our very peculiar situation here, that's all. Before all of this, we were still on the run from the Reichsmarine⁴. We just barely avoided the Prinz Eugen before the, err, event." He stuttered. "Would you like to know how we even ended up here?"
Falke nodded in a feigned agreement. She was relatively informed of the whole situation, being an intelligence operative and all.
"Well, we wanted to signal the Brits at Scappa Flow, right? To just maybe get refuge. We had assumed that London would've been well aware of the events back home. We were quite surprised when we were met with no islands at all, even after adjusting every course we could."
The group passes by a group of sailor-soldiers wearing the same blue patchwork denazification as the flag lieutenant. The men salute Eisner, and he turns back to the TPOTGese group to continue his monologue. "We sailed on for a few days until we finally reached land, Cape Town; a Cape Town very much where it shouldn't have been. Most of us had been informed of pro-German groups existing in that part of the British Empire, but we never expected to be met with a bastardized Hakenkreuz fluttering alongside that orange flag of theirs. To our surprise, the men of Afrika, as they called themselves, were shocked to see the famed Bismarck — something they, apparently, believed had sunk decades ago? — but they welcomed us as esteemed guests at first."
"They were unaware of your status as traitors to the Reich?"
"Well, of course. Mr. Odanga, at that point they were unaware of the Reich itself. They did seem to know much more about this new situation than we did, though. They became aware of Germany quite soon after our arrival."
"We've been well aware of Afrika, actually. Nuts as it sounds, they maintained an Inter-dimensional warfare unit and we've had several instances of... unfriendly contact. We maintain a unit as well, and I'd imagine that our treasonous kinsmen continue to as well. Hell, some preliminary reports suggest they caused this mess. We can't really be sure."
Eisner slurred his words for a second, taken aback for a moment, but evidently not as surprised as one might expect. He soon continued on. "Within days the Afrikans were in contact with the Reichsführer, and well, we were not welcome any longer. When the Admiral stepped out of that meeting room room, the day Pretoria connected to Berlin, well... I'd never seen his face so pale. Not even during combat. How we made it back to sea was a miracle. This isn't exactly an easy ship to get up and running very fast. That's a whole story itself, but for brevity, all you need to know is that we made it, as you can obviously see."
Though they were now at their destination, the small talk continued on.
"And then you sailed here, to Mozambique?"
"Quite clearly, yes. I'll say it's not ideal, but it had the workings of a harbor and a population eager for anything other than the Boers, though the natives' new situation is hardly ideal either, I must admit.."
Odanga furrowed his brow and muttered a complaint of "Imperialists" under his breath. As he did so, the door at which they stood opened, revealing another German officer.
"As if you have been any better in Noxuia. War is war, I'm afraid. Things must be done that we don't enjoy. You won't last long if you can't accept that reality."
All three were taken aback by the mention of the country from their world. "Huh? How do you know of-"
"Ah! Well, I'm more informed than you might think. I apologize for such a rude introduction. As you may have guessed, I am Admiral Lütjens. Come in, and we can get things in order."
The Admiral shifted his hands towards the wooden door, and the group followed him into his domicile. The Captain's quarters was surprisingly quaint, considering the magnificence of the battleship itself. To the right side was a leather couch bolted to the floor, with a scratched, wooden desk beside it. Across from that sat a row of bookshelves, a small table housing a green wreath with a photo within it, and finally, in the center of the room was a row of black-brown wooden tables and chairs, to which the Admiral invited his guests to sit at.