Chapter Text
Trees vibrate above the horizon, no matter how many times the sniper peers through his scope, he couldn't maintain a steady aim. He blamed the wind and the weather for making his job harder. They were there to provide overwatch for the scouts, not to fight the downpour of rain.
Orders from up high - odd sightings off the coast of Texas. Coast Guard were dispatched and never returned and Azur Lane hasn’t responded to the problem yet. Thus, it lands on the only available forces on land, those under the command of a certain General. Thoughts like these come through the pair, the spotter and the sniper.
Picking up their equipment, the duo slink into the background. Under the trees and foliage they melt into nature on their way back to base. They were given one goal and mission, to assist a patrol. They could see them, three men approaching a distant fog with gadgets from command.
“Why didn't they use a drone, sir?”
“Tried, lost signal every time,” The spotter grunts at his sniper, “These shores have been foggy for a too long and with Azur Lane busy they needed the Army to check it out.”
“Figures.” The sniper checks his scope, “Uh, sir?”
“What?” His spotter keeps surveying the area, making sure the scouts are secure.
“There's lights popping up.”
Waving his binoculars over, the sudden catch of the wind and push. Nothing was there besides the fog and the scouts, looking around at the abandoned shore. People have been fleeing the shoreline for years, returning to the confines of the cities with the occasional brave beach party held by the stubborn youth. None of that is here, including the sounds of seagulls. Only the waves swishing under the suspicious skies.
It takes the experienced ears of the spotter to pick out the whistling above them.
He chucks his binoculars.
“We have to move now!”
One blunt push to his spotter, and they roll off the top of the building. He, alongside his weapon and gear, hugged his partner as they spun over the edge. Bouncing, hitting, and landing on the ground. Being on the second floor gave them less injuries met with pained groans. Whatever broken or bruised bones they had were hampered greatly by rock hard pounding of blood through their hearts.
He found his rifle quickly, but not without coughing a great deal. Hacking his lungs, the sniper wriggles upwards.
“Sir?! Sir!”
“Right here!” A voice appears right by him, “Move, move, move!”
Above them it hovers with clicking ticks of locking accuracy. Its targets, the panting humans scramble away from the humming turned into beeping, then heat. Hearts freeze as the blob of black shapes into a clear mechanical fear. Twin cannons, steaming hot and oozing blue plasma.
Shot after shot, sand beats up over them. Dirt showers them as the Siren aircraft becomes more accurate with each volley. They scream, they run, they move in a zig-zag line. A remnant of their training and experience in the Middle East but giving them zero comfort against a machine with no sympathy.
Only cold faced electronic orders.
Coughs echo under a hail of dust. Where they once sat the ruins of the building. More crumbles into pieces and splinters while pieces continue to radiate smoke. The spotters looks around for coverage but all the buildings were being demolished as they ran. Their tower was their only safe spot and now its ruins. Desperate, he puts up his rifle and aims it at the aircraft.
Something stops him from pulling the trigger.
“On ya six, boys!”
Ducking down, two heads barely turn their heads as a boom shakes the earth. Another whistle forces the spotter to grab his sniper again, shoved onto the hallowed ground.The floating hunk of tech above blows into shrapnel and flame. Pulled from a forgotten muscle memory, the spotter kicks up his rifle to aim at the voice - only for him to lower it in shock.
“Come on, Army!” The voice calls for them, “Look alive!”
Thinking barely, the spotter grabs his partner and hauls him over to the voice. Crawling first, then climbing back together on their feet, the spotter gazes on the figure who saved them. He goes wide as he sees blue and white cladding a creamy tanned skin. Tall, brown, and very much powerful woman.
“USS Texas, at ya service!” She grabbed them by their shoulders and threw them behind her. Appearing in her hand is a gilded hand repeater, aiming the shots to the sky, bullets convert into energy. Flying to the sky and tearing apart the aircraft hovering above them.
“Darn it.” She looks at her gun, “Anti-air ain't my thing. Hunker down, boys.”
More Sirens, their aircraft infect the horizon overhead like buzzers of a swarm heeding the call of a dead member. Booming the air and breaking the tree line. The pair of humans keep their heads down with scant mutterings and hands to their ears. A fight wages above them as they crawl to a fallen wall and hide, the kansen engaging with the machines with every facet of her power on display yet unseen.
Only when the booming stops, the pelting of energy do they break cover to gaze. One aircraft hovers still amid the blackened smoke, with one switch and click, the kansen hollers as it breaks apart. Dropping pieces around them, the two humans get a hard look from their savior. Smiling under a stetson hat, the newly introduced namesake of the state they're in, Texas, laughs.
Texas hefted the rifle over her shoulder, “I got this boys, now head back to base. I rescued those little friends of yours so you better get’!”
The sniper was about to retort, not believing the kansen at first. But the figures of three other people running for their lives proved her correct. With slackened jaws and renewed vigor, the two stumble their way to join them. His report is going to be lengthy for this.
Because he knew the General wasn't going to like this.
The Port, never truly taking on an actual name for an island picked out for Azur Lane HQ. It is a place of sizable space amid the vast oceans. Now houses hundreds of different kansen going to and away from the heavily guarded location. Holding the unique status of international ownership, only one truly holds ultimate authority given to them by all human governing bodies, above both the limited human staff and throngs of ships turned women - the Commander.
And today, those under him hold an important meeting.
“Alright, girls!”
Clapping her hands together, New Jersey beams at the gaggle of kansen standing around at the docks. Today is an important event for those in attendance. She knows the itinerary by heart, and has done everything within her power to ensure it goes smoothly. Clearing her throat and adjusting her headpiece, New Jersey takes the stand atop a crate. Despite already towering over half the crowd.
“Brooklyn and I will be the main guides! We need to check with each nation and their conditions! First, our tea drinking friends - the Royal Navy!” She gets a nod from the clipboard wielding woman to the side, “What’s the status of the dorms?”
“Tip top shape.” Dressed in her usual maid garb, Edinburgh musters the confidence to announce, as acting head maid, she did well to ensure her duties.
“Laundry organized?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Rooms cleared?”
“All in order!”
“Long Island touched grass?”
Edinburgh looks over her shoulder to the other maid at attendance, the ever deadpan Sheffield. Reaching down to the ground she lifts up a half awake blue coat wearing gamer. Eyes half lidded, she throws up a sloppy thumbs up.
“Accounted for.” Edinburgh sighs.
“Royal Navy aside,” Brooklyn switches the gears with New Jersey, reading off her papers, “Iron Blood? Northern Parliament?”
“All good.” Eugen, stops playing with her hair, watching casually from atop a wooden crate, “Workshops cleaned and inspected.”
“Aside from being on commissions and frontlines, those that are present are settled.” Chkalov, the Northern Parliament’s main head of science yawns with her cup of coffee laced with alcohol.
Brooklyn nods, “Orthodoxy? Sardegna?”
“Half on patrol and the other half still in mass,” leaning against a wall is one of their well known leaders, Jean Bart spits to the side, “Basically, we're set.”
“We’re mostly off base, for now, resting in the dorms.” Andrea Doria smiles warmly given the bags under her eyes. Being newly rotated from an outpost near her mother country, she is the standing leader of her nation on the island.
“Great!” New Jersey steps back on her conveniently appeared podium, “And finally, the Sakura Empire!”
“In order,” a calm and collected Takao addresses the crowd. “Lady Nagato sends her regards.”
“Gotcha~!” New Jersey gives a happy thumbs up, “Your turn Brooklyn!”
“Certainly,” the blond lady clears her throat, “Everyone, as you know. General Ironside is visiting the port on official business from the Eagle Union Army. Both Azur Lane HQ and our leadership from the Pentagon are working in collaboration to provide further armaments to both our nation and allies for the coming operations. He is arriving with instructions to use a shipment of laser weaponry, to arm, and provide extra firepower for base defenses and volunteers.”
Murmurs go up as a hand rises. Jean Bart gives an incredulous glare. This isn’t the first time offers were made to her for the sake of improving their combat prowess. So she stands to open up her opinions on the matter.
“Word on the street says this stuff comes from the previous war. They don't sound so new to me and I don’t think they’re only against Sirens. We have been getting a lot of debriefing about the recent news back in Europa. Something about terrorists, right?”
Brooklyn pivots her foot to face her, “Yes. As we know, old enemies possibly recaviated from the Terror War and our leadership back home made an agreement to arm us if we need to intervene.”
“Huh, I thought we were already using lasers though…” an off handed comment comes from Edinburgh. Her eyes wander over to Eugen, who only shrugs in return.
“Hmm, I recall Yuubari talking about acquiring new gear,” Chkalov chimes in, “Hey, hold on, you said Ironside?”
“Does he,” Takao narrows her eyebrows, “Is he…?”
“Shhh,” New Jersey waves her hands up, “Yes, yes. He is the Commander's dad. And yes, we need to remember he's on ‘official’ business.”
Air quotes float in the air as if they were visible. Heads nod as the message is received. Rumor mills provided all of them ample information about their Commander's family. The Commander, or ‘Ironside’, is beloved within Azur Lane. Aside from being, the head, the leader, and everyone’s subject of respect. And possessing a growing batch of admirers…
New Jersey looks to be left and right, “Okay, he's going to be arriving with Enterprise within the hour and we have three things we need to make sure of. Starting-”
“Ground rules,” Brooklyn flips open her clipboard, “We don't mention the METAs. No one outside of Azur Lane knows nothing about their existence, and those that do consider them high priority targets. Despite their more than friendly terms, the more ambiguously motivated members have made them enemies in our government's mind. Thankfully, we don't have any of them here right now, but the Commander wants to make sure questions aren't asked.”
No complaints and the reason is sound. Feelings towards the META ships vary from friendly to weary. There were plenty of interactions between each faction but their history was questionable. Takao swallows back spit as she remembers the dossier made on her counterpart, a powerful META among their ranks. The idea of a different version of her walking around makes her tighten the grip of her sheathed sword.
“Next, the equipment he's bringing relies on fusion tech. I'm not really sure how to explain this part…”
Being the scientist she is, Chkalov clicks a heel for everyone's attention, “Supposedly cold fusion. Unlike how our stuff relies on our own personal strength and Wisdom Cube based understanding, I've heard the Eagle Union was the first to develop its own kind - it's basically nuclear energy of a safer type. I have yet to study one myself, although I have witnessed a reactor in operation.”
“Yeah! What she said!” New Jersey sheepishly rubs the back of her head, “Uh, so what we're saying is we need to be careful with this stuff or we could really have a disaster on our hands.”
“Lastly,” Brooklyn moves along, “the most controversial part - we need to hide the existence of uh…the group.”
“The what?” Andrea Doria chimes in.
“You know, the group.” Brooklyn snaps her fingers, “His ‘group’.”
Crickets. Not really, actually a pair of Manjuu waddled into each other and made cricket-like noise only to be gently pushed aside by Jean Bart.
The Group, everyone knows who they are. A selection of kansen commonly labeled the ‘lucky ones’, an honored and respectful status. There was envy to be found for them and at the same time, a sense of pride for nations capable of getting one into the ‘Group’. Recently, a member of the Royal Navy entered it, which Edinburgh has a deep familiarity with. She was in charge of the celebrations when her sister wasn’t.
Having to hide a blush, Jean Bart breaks the fallen curtain of silence, “Uh, why?”
“Because,” Brooklyn flips through all her pages. Turning the clipboard upside down until she eventually closes all the papers and reorganizes it, “Commander's request and I quote, ‘The old bastard doesn't know yet.”
“Ohhhhhh…” the chorus of understanding dances through the ranks.
“Figures,” Jean Bart rolls her eyes, “Whelp, things will get awkward. Got anything else?”
“I think that's it.” Brooklyn motions to New Jersey, “Final words?”
“Yup! Alright, girls.” New Jersey smiles big and slaps her hands together, rubbing them, “Today is an important day, remember to pass the word onto your fleets and follow the Commander’s orders. Dismissed!”
Standing over close to the edge, old Ironside kept his hands behind his back. Walking alongside the lines of the ship, he keeps to the painted lanes of the carrier. As an army general, he was used to the land and it's all its comforts. Being able to be so close to the expansive ocean and watching the birds above gave him an exhilarating feeling.
He stepped over the line to see something up close. He avoided the planes sitting in rows, older models from a bygone age, even older than the man himself. They sit gleaming under the sun. The General approved of their designs, having a fondness of his son’s childhood - painting these models for his bedroom.
There were always ships on display in his room - an expensive hobby, but one he funded easily with his rank and pay. The General participated with his own from time to time, even buying a few out of a whim after his son left for the Navy. He remembers the colors, blue, gray, and malt certainly white. He was no artist, yet tried to at least see the engineering behind such ships. Like the model his son first made, painted neatly along the middle of the flight deck, General Ironside reads “CV-6” in big letters.
“General?”
He looks up, walking up to him is the white haired owner of the ship. Clad garbs similar to an officer, the biggest difference being her low sleeves and black skirt. While the General's libido died years ago, having his rocks partially shot off during his last GLA engagement, he could see how flawlessly pretty she is. His interactions with Memphis made it clear - they were inhumanely beautiful.
“Enterprise.” He bobs head knowingly, “I'm just admiring your flight deck. It's so odd to see no one up here…reminds me of when I spent time on one of the Nimitz.”
“One of the modern ones.” Enterprise joins him, looking down at her number, “I never met her myself, but I hear she's a good fighter, she’s too busy rotating with her sisters in the Pacific theatre.”
“Wow, they made a kansen out of the Nimitz?” The General gives a half grin,“They're moving fast. Next thing you know, they'll be turning pirate ships into kansen.”
He doesn’t know, better stay quiet for the Commander’s sake. Enterprise shifted, she smiled, “What do you know about us, sir?”
“Officially, very little besides my interactions with Memphis.” He shrugs, recalling the classified documents. Few were available, even to the Pentagon. Azur Lane always operated as an entity almost separate from them if not for HQ, their designated base in New York. What he does know comes from his son.
“Off the records, my boy talked a lot about you girls, more than I can understand,” General Ironside remarks, studying her features for a reaction, “He spoke of you girls like he spoke of his friends back home but from a different world entirely. Fun adventures and crazy stories, you all kept him safe and happy. Not something I expected from a group of weapons.”
“Hmm.” Enterprise keeps herself fixated on him, not changing her face, “I'm assuming we'll be keeping things cordial, then?”
Polite, maybe a bit stiff compared to Memphis. He quickly realizes his misuse of the word ‘weapons’. Nevertheless, he can rebound and the General chuckles softly, “I hope we can be friendly, too. It was hard supporting you girls when the old asses back home would rather be the ones in charge. You wouldn't believe how many times I had to convince those dusty coots that you are all better off under my son, bias withstanding.”
“I don't follow, sir.”
He shrugs, “I trust you probably as much as I trust my son. A lot. So you don't have to worry about any judgments from me. My mind’s made up, you girls need to eat, sleep, and shit like us. You’re human in my book.”
“Very crude way of putting it,” Enterprise giggles, cracking a relaxed grin, “I’m sorry, I was only worried. I can see the resemblance now, you two act alike but you're more…”
“Old? Cranky? Angry?”
“I was going to say ‘poised’, sir.”
“Hah, too nice. Can't care enough what I'm called, young miss.”
“You care enough to rely on your son’s words to trust us,” Enterprise notes, “That is more than enough to earn my respect.”
“No bullshit, Miss Enterprise. That's all I am.”
“...I guess that's one of putting it,” she laughs, finding her words quickly, “Experience sure does that to people.”
Smiling big, Enterprise nods her head, “You don’t seem as jaded as I thought. Dark, but not jaded.”
“It's a new world, Miss Enterprise.” The General sucks in air and breathes out slowly, “You can only ask for the best and you can only hope for the worst. That’s how I always lived. But my son? He told me one day, “Dad, I’m going to make sure we can get all the hope in the world.” The General breaks out in a deep short laugh, “Ah, he was mad at me for days. I didn’t believe him, but he proved me wrong.”
“He can be a dreamer, I assume he gets the realist side from you then.” It was not a question, it's an observation on Enterprise’s part.
“No, his mother, she was always the one that drilled the more important stuff in his head.” The General’s face morphed somberly, “I wasn’t always home to teach him. My wife, though, was the biggest pusher in his life. He would always tell me he became an officer because of me, but I don’t believe him one bit.”
“I don’t think so, sir.” Enterprise said, “He has spoken of you on a few occasions. Especially when he told us about your upcoming visit.”
“Telling you girls, I’m a hardass, huh?”
“Jokingly, yes.” She carefully rolls her shoulders, her coat over her shoulders is an odd feeling but she felt she needed to wear it more formally, “No, he said you’re the strongest man he knows. And I consider that high praise because I think the same of him.”
“Huh,” Ironside lets himself grin at the words, “You girls really respect him? Memphis wasn’t wrong.”
“We do.” Enterprise gets serious, “She is right. He pulled us out of the thick and thin. Everything we have accomplished is because of him, especially how united we are.”
The General studies the carrier. He wanted to find any hint of deception, lies, or even simple blind loyalty. None of it was found on her. He knew the stories of his nation’s decorated warships, the USS Enterprise made to greet and guide him to his son’s new home. No, he found true adoration in her look and a little bit of…that same gaze his wife once gave him when she lived.
He keeps this in the back of his mind, something tells him his son isn’t exactly as truthful about the conditions of his ‘bachelor’ lifestyle. On the other hand, he could tell, Commander Ironside earned their respect.
“I can see that, Miss Enterprise.” He chuckles heartidely, “Let’s hope he can hold us to it when the time comes.”
“Sir?”
“I’ll be frank with you, ma’am.” The General gazes past her towards the edge of her ship, “I know your enemy is out at sea and I stay on the land. We both know this unholy alliance of Siren and extremists is coming. You read the papers, right?”
“Papers, no. I try not to focus on what the people have to say,” Enterprise admits openly, she looks down, “We, I, was around during the early days. They weren’t kind to us when we first appeared.”
“Sorry, for what it's worth.” Memphis mentioned it to him too. Kansen weren’t well received in the early days of their deployment. Many old heads and warhawks valued their uses yet the issues of their existence was an ugly matter for certain groups. Ironside was lucky to not be one of those sacked after the last of those riots were put down. He didn’t mind.
“Not opening those cans of worms back then,” he coughs into his sleeve, “The point I’m making, I think you’ll have to be seeing more of me in the coming days.”
“Fighting on land?”
“Fighting together.” He grins, “I gotta make use of my boys again. Get ahold of the Marines because I know they would want in on this rodeo. Hope you’re ready for a fight.”
“Aye aye, sir.”