Pearl Harbour

December 27th, 2002 - Pearl Harbour - United States of Westaria

Arizona was pacing back and forth on the boardwalk. The warm sun, cool breeze, and the crashing of the waves along the hulls of warships was lost on her. Her focus was elsewhere, on the war with the Yamato Empire.

The war had only been going on for three weeks now, since the 2nd Combat Strike Group had engaged Yamato ships to gain possession of the Builder, 'John Smith'. No word had been received from any members of the unit, and it was looking increasingly likely that all fifty of them had been killed.

Since the fighting had started, they had already lost close to thirty ships in small engagements, and had done a similar amount of damage to the Empire. No large scale battles had taken place yet, and all of the engagements thus far had been destroyers on patrol engaging each other and submarines doing hit-and-runs on any ships that were on their own. 

The absence of a large Imperial attack was worrying Arizona. She knew that they had cut off Leyte and the surrounding islands about a week ago, and Missouri's forces were under siege there, but reconnaissance missions hadn't been able to make it through the Imperial encirclement, so she didn't know how things were progressing.

If she was one of the Imperial tacticians, and had the Builder accessible to her, then she knew that she would launch an all-out attack on Pearl Harbour, and then take out Leyte and begin conquering Westaria's northern territories, before invading the Westarian home islands. With the Builder on the field, protected by their entire navy, they could attack ruthlessly and recklessly, being constantly repaired, and having any sunken ships replaced by new hulls.

But Arizona was no strategist. She was a field commander, and, whatever concerns she might have about Imperial strategy, she couldn't reject the possibility that they were making some move that she couldn't foresee. Besides, as long as the Empire wasn't making any full-blown attacks, she was fine with the way that the war was going so far.

The sound of a foghorn broke through her thoughts, startling her, and drawing her attention to the harbour.

A destroyer, Fletcher, was towing something behind her, and trying to navigate the chaos of the Southeast Loch. It was mostly filled with battleships and aircraft carriers getting ready for combat, and there was little space for a destroyer to try and move through it. However, Fletcher persisted. She navigated between the capital ships all the way to the Naval Offices, where Arizona was, before mooring herself against the boardwalk.

Arizona finally managed to see what it was that she was towing. It was a submarine. Specifically, the Gato-class submarine Drum, who had been designated as MIA after the 2nd Combat Strike Group, which she had been a part of, had been destroyed in Tokyo three weeks ago.

Her deck gun and most of her superstructure had been destroyed and parts of her outer hull had been broken off. Her body was onboard Fletcher, who was carrying her over to the boardwalk. A medical team from the Naval Offices arrived, carrying a stretcher. They gently set her down on it, and then carried her away to the hospital. 

Fletcher, having brought Drum to safety, ran up to Arizona, saluting as she came to a halt.

"Vice Admiral, Drum has classified, top-priority information for your eyes only. I think it might end up changing the entire war. She hasn't told me anything, so I'm afraid I won't be of any more use to you."

"Don't worry about it," said Arizona, nodding in response, "Once she's recovered, she'll be able to tell me. Go refuel and get some rest. You'll receive deployment orders tomorrow morning."

***

It had been two days since Drum had been hospitalized. A full inspection of her hull had revealed that she had had half of her fuel tanks and almost all of her ballast and air tanks lose their structural integrity, and, if not for Fletcher finding her when she did, she would have suffocated inside her hull.

As it was, it would take at least eight or nine months to repair the damages, and, with the lack of experience that the Navy's repair personnel had, they would probably be lucky to get her sailing by the end of the year.

While it was true that shipgirls shared damage between their hulls and bodies, it wasn't as though they could heal in the same way. Except in the case of missing limbs, the body of a shipgirl would heal, but, until the equivalent damages on her hull were fixed, she would not be able to use them. 

Because of this, Drum had suffered both internal organ and  nerve failures. She could not breathe without the assistance of an oxygen mask, and she had to be fed through a tube directly into her stomach. She was paralyzed from the shoulders down, and had lost both of her eyes.

She had woken from her coma earlier that morning, and Arizona, along with Des Moines, Enterprise, Yorktown, and Balao, all of whom were Rear Admirals in command of forces that had been mobilized to Pearl Harbour, had immediately rushed over to the hospital. They had found Drum lying in a bed, a mask on her face and bandages covering her eyes. She turned her head slightly towards the door as she heard them approach.

" Vice Admiral," she said, slowly, her voice quiet and rough, "is that you? I... I have some... information to tell you."

"Yes, it's me," said Arizona, stepping into the room, the others following behind her, "Some of the Rear Admirals that have been assigned here are behind me."

Drum's brow furrowed, or at least, that was what it looked like. In reality, a small crease appeared at the top of the bandages that covered her eyes.

"Vice Admiral, I... I must ask the we are... alone, as the information is..." she paused, her head going limp and falling to the side. Arizona ran forward, the others behind her. She grabbed Drums shoulders and shook her, desperately searching for a sign of life. After a few minutes, Drum slowly regained consciousness.

"My apologies, Vice Admiral," she said, as Arizona stood and stepped back from the bed, "It appears that... talking for more than a minute is... still too much for me. Please, have your... companions exit, so that.. I can tell you."

Arizona looked back at the four Rear Admirals. Des Moines's face was filled with worry, and her mind was probably filled with thoughts of her sister. Enterprise and Yorktown wore similar expressions of interest and anticipation, and Balao was shaking, obviously worried for her subordinate. She sighed, and motioned for them to leave the room. They walked out without saying a single word, and closed the door behind them.

"They're gone now, Drum. What is it that you need to tell me?"

Drum tilted her head towards the window. 

"It was the 5th. Combat had begun between our two forces, and, outnumbered almost ten to one, we... we fled south. We... intercepted 'Margaret' at the same time as three... Imperial battleships intercepted us." She sighed, remembering some horrid sight that Arizona hoped that she would never have to see. "Margaret fired on them, and sank... all of them... in one salvo."

What.

Three battleships in one salvo?

'Margaret' only had five turrets, so one of those battleships would have been sunk by only three shells.

"Why did 'Margaret' fire on her allies!?" Arizona was shouting. What had happened there?

"'Margaret', the Builder, and Myōkō... they all deserted the Empire. After that, neither nation tried to... intercept them. Instead, the 2nd CSG fought... the entirety of the Imperial Navy. Us submarines... ran out of torpedoes and air and had to... flee the combat zone. We were hunted by Imperial... aircraft, destroyers, and submarines for hours after we... fled. As far as I know, I am... the only surviving submari-" She stopped talking, and Arizona realized that she had passed out again.

Arizona walked over to the window, looking out on the harbour, and at Battleship Row, a symbol of Westarian firepower and military strength. Battleship after battleship was lined up along Ford Island, her hull among them. How many shells would it take 'Margaret' to wipe out all of them? Herself, her sisters, her comrades. How quickly would they die in the face of overwhelming strength? It was sickening to think about. She began to feel nauseous just from entertaining the notion of it.

"Vice Admiral?" Drum had woken up. "Is it... all right if I continue?"

Arizona steadied herself against the wall. "Yes, please keep going."

"When I found Salem again, it was... just her and Bennington. The others were... gone. Not a trace of them left. Bennington was... sunk by Imperial planes. Salem, she managed to... find the Builder. She... surrendered to him, and, he... stood onboard her dock for a short time. She... had him onboard by the 6th. She completed... her mission. She is now... moving with the Builder's fleet, but I... I don't know where..."

She passed out again, but Arizona hardly noticed. Salem was still alive. And, she had completed her mission. The whole reason that they were fighting this war was for the Builder, and, if the Empire didn't have him, then maybe, just maybe, they could make peace. 

She quickly stepped out of the room, startling the four Rear Admirals. She was walking so fast that some might call it a run, and the four of them quickly fell into step behind her.

"Get me a secure line direct to Columbia," she said, talking to the four of them, but not to any one of them, "I need to speak to New Jersey."

"Vice Admiral," started Des Moines, worry and fear filling her voice, "is my sister alright?"

Arizona stopped and turned around, and Des Moines almost bumped into her.

"Salem is alive. That's all that I know, but I'm sure of that fact."