Indian Ocean
July 24, 1942
9:00 AM
A lone Virginia-Class Fast Attack Submarine silently sliced through the ocean depths, its advanced systems guiding it towards another crucial scout mission in preparation for Azur Lane's next offensive against the Sirens. Royal Navy intelligence from the previous month indicated Madagascar as the last known location of a significant Siren fleet.
Inside the submarine's control room, Arizona wore the unmistakable expression of a man whose hard-earned day off had vanished into thin air without his consent. His usual stoic demeanor was replaced by a palpable annoyance and a deep-seated depression.
Adding to his misery, Archerfish and Albacore, in their childlike enthusiasm, were playfully darting around the control room, their antics threatening to push Arizona to the brink. Manjuus and Meowfficers did their best to prevent the two Submarine Shipgirls from inadvertently pressing any critical buttons that could jeopardize their entire operation.
Sheffield, ever observant, noticed his pronounced frown and broke the tense silence. "I thought you were pleased about this mission. Now you appear inconsolable."
Arizona fixed her with a look of utter disappointment. "I accepted this mission under the distinct impression that I'm going on a real mission instead of sneaking on tea parties. But now..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting towards the two submarines still engaged in their boisterous game.
"I have to babysit these two," he muttered, his head hanging low in despair.
"Is that the sole reason for your distress?" a new voice interjected.
A tanned woman with striking white hair and intricate Native American tattoos across her body spoke, her gaze fixed on Arizona with an expression that suggested he was the most despondent individual on the planet.
"I... I didn't realize you were there... Minneapolis," Arizona stammered, startled by her sudden presence.
"I have been standing here since the mission commenced," she stated flatly, a hint of disappointment coloring her tone.
~Flashback~
Pearl Harbor, Azur Lane Main Base
July 22, 1942
In the aftermath of their hard-fought victory in the Southern Pacific, Lucas treated the Cleveland sisters to a celebratory outing at one of the base's renowned bars. The Clevelands, ever the picture of youthful innocence, contented themselves with non-alcoholic beverages and decadent desserts.
Laffey-200 was also present, perched precariously on a barstool, nursing a potent drink. This time, a tacit understanding kept everyone at a respectful distance. Past experience had taught them that interfering with a drunk bunny invariably led to hospital visits, or worse – morgue.
The entire Base was in a state of jubilant revelry, the shipgirls, particularly the adult ones, indulging in copious amounts of alcohol. The Battleship Shipgirls were the most inebriated of all, especially the standard battleships of the Eagle Union.
Where there was a potential for a brawl, Lucas and Arizona were invariably present, their imposing figures serving as a stark warning to any base inhabitants foolish enough to cause trouble. Their preferred method of conflict resolution – a swift and decisive fist to the face – had become legendary.
Enterprise-80, Bunker Hill-67, and Frigate Belfast were temporarily stationed on the Eagle Union mainland, engaged in crucial discussions with the politicians funding their operations. The primary topic of the meeting was their next strategic move in the Indian Ocean, concerning the large Siren contingent spotted near Madagascar the previous month.
They were met with enthusiastic welcomes, news of their recent victory having spread rapidly throughout the mainland and the various nations allied with Azur Lane.
Royal Army and Union Army personnel were also enthusiastically participating in the base-wide celebrations, filling the numerous bars to capacity. Others toasted their victory in the infirmary, surrounded by their comrades injured in the amphibious invasion.
Tensions occasionally flared between Army and Navy officers, leading to several barroom brawls that required the constant intervention of Military Police and local law enforcement. The MPs and Police were on perpetual standby, dealing with the endless stream of drunken altercations and disruptions to local businesses.
Essex-9, one of the base's dedicated Law Enforcement Shipgirls, was having a particularly challenging time dealing with the stark reality that her counterpart was the base's most notorious drunk. In one particularly rowdy bar, she spotted her barely awake and thoroughly intoxicated, draped over Texas.
Essex-12 and Texas had engaged in an epic drinking contest the previous night, a battle of attrition that didn't conclude until the first rays of dawn. The two were now in a state of nearly dead, the casualties of excessive alcohol consumption.
They were surrounded by a veritable graveyard of empty bottles and a scattering of passed-out sailors and soldiers who had succumbed after a mere three or four drinks. The only other individual still upright, albeit barely conscious, was Laffey-200, stubbornly clinging to wakefulness at the counter.
The other battleships were completely incapacitated by alcohol, their heads lolling against the bar, drool tracing paths down their chins. Royal Navy Maids were being dispatched to retrieve their equally intoxicated "Ladies of the House."
Essex-9, thoroughly disgusted by her counterpart's antics, unceremoniously yanked her off Texas and dragged her towards the brig. While she couldn't magically sober up the drunken carrier, incarceration would at least prevent further alcohol consumption.
Essex-12 groggily awoke in one of the prison cell's bunk beds, slowly taking in her surroundings. She noticed her counterpart observing her with the stern disapproval of a disappointed mother.
In her still-inebriated state, she offered a lazy wave. "Yoh. Where... am I?"
"At the jail, obviously," Essex-9 replied, a distinct edge of anger in her voice.
"What time is it?" she slurred, squinting at her wristwatch.
"It's morning."
"Okay.... Good night, Mom." With that, she promptly rolled over and resumed snoring, completely oblivious to the fuming Essex-9.
Essex-9 slammed her baton against the cell bars, the clang echoing through the room. Essex-12, however, remained in a peaceful, alcohol-induced slumber, undisturbed by the enraged carrier.
"Wake up! I'm not finished with you!" she bellowed in frustration.
Bunker Hill-17 and Intrepid, within earshot, couldn't help but overhear the escalating exchange between the two Essex sisters.
Intrepid spoke in a hushed, terrified voice. "If that's Essex's counterpart... what will my counterpart be like?"
Bunker Hill, ever the picture of nonchalance, shrugged. "Maybe she's not like that... William mentioned your counterpart is a research vessel."
1
"I hope you're right..."
Back at the Bar
Lucas and Arizona were in the thick of the revelry, their energetic dance moves keeping pace with the 1940s jazz infused with a modern rock and roll beat. Lucas was dressed in his Marine uniform shirt, while Arizona maintained his Royal Navy officer disguise. They were the undisputed stars of the establishment, drinks flowing freely around them.
Hornet was, predictably, a central figure in the alcoholic merriment, partying with unrestrained enthusiasm alongside the two men. Enterprise-6 and Yorktown sat quietly in a corner, observing their younger sister's wild abandon with a mixture of amusement and concern.
"Aren't you going to join her?" Yorktown asked her elder sister.
"Hah! I'm far too old for this kind of... exuberance," Enterprise-6 replied, conspicuously avoiding alcohol, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks at the thought of joining the wild party.
"Come on, it won't be the last time!" Hornet called out with a playful tease.
The last time Enterprise-6 had truly let loose, Yorktown had been summoned to extract her sister from a passionate embrace with a lamppost, the surrounding area littered with stray energy arrows. The unfortunate Commanding Officer at the time had been left footing a hefty bill for reparations and damages.
Yorktown suppressed a giggle at her elder sister's obvious discomfort, quickly covering her face with her cap as a blush of mortification crept up Enterprise-6's neck.
"Come on! Join us!" Hornet urged, her enthusiasm infectious. Enterprise-6 politely declined, but Yorktown, with a small smile, rose to join her younger sister in the fun.
"Perhaps a little bit of... levity... wouldn't be entirely detrimental," she mused.
A few drinks and a considerable amount of partying later, Yorktown was found clinging to a streetlight with an almost amorous intensity, completely lost in her inebriated state. Enterprise-6 did her utmost to pry her sister away from the unyielding metal pole.
"Come on, Yorktown! You're far too intoxicated! Release the streetlight!"
-That streetlight had better chances than me-
Just then, Sheffield arrived at the bar, her sharp eyes taking in the chaotic scene. Drunken Army and Navy personnel were sprawled across the entrance, while others were losing their recent meals on the sidewalk.
She entered the boisterous establishment, attempting to call Arizona's name above the din. However, her repeated calls were lost in the loud music and cheering as Arizona and Lucas continued their high-energy revelry.
Sheffield, ever the pragmatist, devised a swift solution to gain everyone's attention. She marched directly to the vintage 1940s Zenith radio and decisively yanked the power cord from the outlet.
The music screeched to an abrupt halt, and every head in the bar swiveled towards the silent Zenith radio. All eyes fell upon Sheffield, holding the offending plug.
Within seconds, the previously jovial atmosphere transformed into one of collective outrage. The assembled patrons, their revelry so rudely interrupted by a Maid, were now a seething mob.
"Oh, come on!"
"Get that bitch outta here!"
"Go back to the kitchen!"
"Go wash some dishes!"
"Go back to the mansion where you belong!"
Arizona, slightly more than tipsy, bellowed, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Woman!"
Sheffield, unfazed by the rising tide of anger, spoke with her usual icy calm. "Cmdr. Anders. You are required at Main Base, by Adm. Nimitz."
Cmdr. Anders was Arizona's disguised name under the Royal Navy log book.
"Fine," Arizona grumbled, pushing his way through the disgruntled crowd towards her. He snatched the plug from her hand, then turned to face the angry mob, offering a sheepish apology.
"Sorry about that, folks. It won't happen again... I swear," he mumbled, sounding remarkably like a chastened, drunk father.
The Shipgirls responded with a chorus of angry boos. "Booooo..."
"She's destroying the fun!"
"Get her out of here!"
Lucas, raising a fist in mock threat, yelled, "Grab your girlfriend and get outta here!"
Lucas and Arizona exchanged childish middle fingers across the crowded bar. "Fuck You!"
Arizona then reconnected the Zenith radio's power cord, ensuring the angry mob wouldn't escalate their displeasure. Turning back to Sheffield, he wagged a finger at her.
"Don't do that again, or you'll get yourself killed."
Sheffield, however, was completely unfazed by his threat or his finger-pointing. "Adm. Nimitz is waiting."
"Fine... let's go." He grabbed her arm and unceremoniously dragged her out of the bar. Allowing her to linger any longer would undoubtedly result in a full-scale brawl.
Arizona found himself summoned to Azur Lane Main Base of Operations, where Adm. Nimitz stood holding a folder filled with reports, his gaze fixed on a monitor displaying a map of Madagascar.
Arizona addressed the Admiral to gain his attention. "You called for me, Admiral."
Adm. Nimitz turned to face him. "Yes. I have another mission for you. Miss Enterprise believes you are uniquely suited for this one." He then handed Arizona the folder containing the intelligence report.
"Royal Navy Intelligence has reported a significant Siren presence in Madagascar as of last month. We need you to investigate and gather any pertinent information about the area."
Arizona was about to voice his thoughts when Adm. Nimitz continued, preempting his protest. "You won't be alone on this mission. One cruiser from the Eagle Union and one from the Royal Navy will be assisting you."
He pondered the Admiral's vague reference to his companions, his mind already racing with the complexities of the mission. The dense forests of Madagascar would take days to map on foot or with drones. Overhead satellites, a luxury of their former world, would have provided vital reconnaissance data in a matter of hours. But in this world of 1940s technology and occasional alien advancements, satellite imagery was a distant memory.
Lost in his thoughts, a voice snapped him back to Adm. Nimitz's explanation.
"You called for me, Admiral."
A tanned woman with striking white tattoos adorning her body and a hooded garment embroidered
with Native American designs entered the room, her expression stern and focused.
"Ah, Minneapolis, you're just in time," Adm. Nimitz said with a nod.
Minneapolis and Arizona exchanged a look of mutual indifference upon their introduction. Minneapolis, based on his attire, assumed he was simply another Royal Navy officer.
'Why is a Navy Officer being briefed for the exact same mission as I am?' she wondered.
Adm. Nimitz addressed them both, his tone authoritative. He knew that Arizona's true identity, along with Denver-856's, needed to remain a closely guarded secret to prevent the Crimson Axis from learning about their existence. Their espionage capabilities were formidable, and maintaining their anonymity was paramount. For now, a carefully controlled degree of transparency was necessary.
"Arizona, this is Minneapolis. She will be assisting you on this mission," he said, gesturing towards the scout cruiser.
"Wait! It's him?" she exclaimed, pointing at Arizona, disbelief etched on her face.
"Is she capable of evading enemy detection?" Arizona asked, breaking their awkward gaze.
Adm. Nimitz was about to reply, but Minneapolis cut him off. "I am a capable hunter. None of my prey have ever detected me before they were... apprehended."
"She's a Hunter?" Arizona questioned, a flicker of interest in his eyes.
"Yes. She is the only Scout Cruiser with that particular... skillset," Adm. Nimitz confirmed.
"Do you know how to operate 'Modern' electronics?" Arizona then inquired.
Minneapolis tilted her head in confusion. Arizona was asking if she could use contemporary electronic equipment such as wireless headsets and various modern tools used for intelligence gathering.
"Huh???"
Arizona muttered under his breath, "Great. I'll have to teach you everything then..."
He gestured for her to follow him. Before they could leave the Main Base of Operation, Adm. Nimitz spoke again.
"Wait. We are also assigning two submarine shipgirls to assist you on this mission."
Arizona turned around, his face a mask of horror at these words. He desired no hindrances on this potentially dangerous mission. And now, they were attaching literal children to it.
~Present Day~
Arizona and the other shipgirls involved in the mission gathered around a holographic table displaying a detailed map of Madagascar and its varied terrain, the designated reconnaissance area highlighted with drawn lines indicating their planned routes.
Arizona began, "Okay. Minneapolis and Sheffy. You—."
"It's Sheffield. If you mind," Sheffield interjected icily, her disdain palpable.
Archerfish and Albacore struggled to suppress their laughter as Arizona was swiftly corrected by Sheffield, the unexpected reprimand momentarily easing the tension of the mission.
Minneapolis observed the interaction between the two, a sense of intrigue flickering in her eyes. 'There's definitely something going on between those two', she mused.
Arizona cleared his throat. "My apologies then... alright, let's get back on track. Minneapolis and Sheffield, you two will accompany me along with AZ-2 Team. We will conduct reconnaissance on the ground and the surrounding terrain."
Skipper, one of the Manjuu members of AZ-1 Team, groaned audibly. "Oh, come on."
The rest of AZ-1 Team echoed his complaints.
"Guess you're stuck with the boat, Skipper," Alex of AZ-2 Team quipped.
"We're going to land, baby!" Marty of AZ-2 Team exclaimed with a cheer.
Arizona and Sheffield both shot the Manjuus dismissive glares, the glow of the holographic table accentuating their stern expressions.
The Manjuus fell into an immediate, chastened silence. "Sorry."
Arizona continued, his finger pointing at the two submarine shipgirls in tow. "Archerfish and Albacore, you two will conduct reconnaissance along the shores, identifying any defensive emplacements near the coastline. You will also protect some of the ROVs as they scout potential amphibious landing sites near the beaches."
"Roger that!" the two submarines replied in unison, their voices cheerful as they offered enthusiastic salutes.
He then adopted a serious tone. "If things go south for either of you, your direct order is to return to my Submarine and take cover. Got it?"
The two Submarines nodded solemnly. The thought of anything happening to these two Young Shipgirls weighed heavily on Arizona's conscience.
"Okay, that's all of it. Prepare yourselves, we are approaching the designated insertion point," he announced.
The shipgirls then proceeded to a designated room where a Navy SEAL Team was preparing for the upcoming mission. They donned Kevlar vests and various electronic devices, integrating them into their equipment.
The Virginia-Class Submarine slowly cruised towards the designated location where the last reconnaissance had spotted the Siren fleet. The submarine carefully ascended to a depth suitable for World War II-era submarines, ensuring the two younger submarines wouldn't be crushed by the immense water pressure.
The access hatch on the Virginia-Class Submarine opened, and the two Smaller Submarines cruised out towards their respective reconnaissance points. Arizona, Minneapolis, Sheffield, and AZ-2 Team boarded a specialized Navy SEAL Delivery Vehicle.
The Virginia-Class Submarine then descended to its operational depth, evading detection by surface vessels or any ASW capable units. Passive sonar systems were activated, silently listening for any potential threats lurking in the surrounding waters.
Minneapolis attempted to voice a complaint about the cramped confines of the Delivery Vehicle. "Is it just me, or is this a little... snug?"
Arizona retorted, "You're lucky there are only three of us and four luggage."
The four Manjuus groaned as they were literally stack like luggage.
He continued. "This thing is designed to carry six Navy SEALs complete with all their bulky gear and equipment."
The eight occupant was a Manjuu expertly controlling the Delivery Vehicle with a joystick.
"You'll get used to it," Sheffield said stoically, her tone suggesting she had become accustomed to the modern Kansen's pragmatic, often understated, descriptions of unpleasant situations.
Minneapolis clamped her mouth shut, deciding against further complaints about the cramped and unnerving ride in the SEAL Delivery Vehicle. However, the silence within the small submersible was short-lived.
"Dude, stop moving. It's cramped in here!" Alex hissed.
"Enough with the complaining! We barely fit into this cramped space like oversized luggage!" Gloria grumbled.
"Easy for you to say!" Marty retorted.
"Guys, I think I'm being squeezed to death back here!" Allan exclaimed, his voice muffled.
"Yup, I almost forgot these Manjuus were crammed in here with us," Sheffield muttered under her breath.
Reaching the shore, the rear door of the SEAL Delivery Vehicle opened slightly. The Manjuus practically exploded out of the cramped space like ejected luggage, their faces promptly meeting the sandy beach.
Arizona, Sheffield, and Minneapolis followed, gratefully escaping the confines of the Delivery Vehicle, and continued their journey into the dense forest of Madagascar, the somewhat dazed Manjuus trailing behind. AZ-2 Team launched a small Hornet drone in advance, hoping for early detection of any hostiles in the area.
In an attempt to alleviate the tense atmosphere, Marty muttered, "I hope King Julien and Maurice are around here somewhere."
"What???" the rest of AZ-2 Team echoed in unison, their confusion evident.
"Nothing," he mumbled to his teammates.
Arizona and his team moved cautiously through the dense foliage, making every effort to avoid any suspicious sounds that could compromise their mission. He couldn't help but observe his team, who looked like characters from a high-budget video game sporting premium camouflage skins.
Minneapolis wore her Native American hood, enhanced by a ghillie suit, with streaks of face paint haphazardly applied.
Sheffield, in her characteristic maid outfit complete with apron, also wore a ghillie suit, though she eschewed face paint. Her rigging remained subtly active.
The Manjuus, clad in standard desert camouflage and gear augmented by ghillie suits, resembled animated, round bushes thanks to their peculiar body shape.
They proceeded slowly and deliberately into the heart of the forest, the constant threat of booby traps weighing on their minds. They relied on the deployed drones for reconnaissance of the more distant areas.
"This would be so much easier with satellite reconnaissance providing real-time intel on the ground," Alex grumbled.
"Let's go old school, people. We don't have the luxuries we were accustomed to back in our world," Arizona stated flatly, dismissing the complaint.
"Why not just request aerial reconnaissance?" Minneapolis suggested.
"Our operational limitations dictate that we remain primarily ground-based. Aerial reconnaissance would only serve to alert the Sirens to our presence," Sheffield replied in her typically stoic manner.
"Okay... Minneapolis. Utilize your 'Hunter' capabilities to scout for any signs of Siren activity in the area. Secure our potential retreat path," Arizona ordered, assigning her the crucial task of forward reconnaissance.
"Alright..." Minneapolis murmured before seamlessly melting into the surrounding bushes, her movements silent and fluid as she began her hunt for any Siren presence. AZ-2 Team watched in impressed silence, marveling at her ability to conceal her presence and sound as she navigated the dense undergrowth.
"Damn, she's good," Gloria muttered under her breath. "I can't believe she can move like that with just a tarp and... a thong."
"Do you have to remind us about that?" Alex groaned.
Arizona and Sheffield exchanged a brief, weary glance at the Manjuus' characteristic banter.
"You probably should have taken the other team," Sheffield commented, clearly not appreciating the noise emanating from AZ-2 Team.
"They have extensive experience in this kind of terrain and region. AZ-2 Team belongs to AFRICOM; they're likely more adaptable to the differences between our world and this one," Arizona countered.
Sheffield closed her eyes briefly. "Fine. Just... keep it down."
AZ-2 Team fell into an uncharacteristic silence, Sheffield's tone carrying the weight of a disappointed mother addressing her unruly children. Marty silently controlled his drone. Gloria, her round form and ghillie suit effectively disguising her as an innocuous bush, remained still. Allan, their designated medic, quietly fiddled with his medical bag.
The silence of the dense forest was unnerving. There were no chirping birds, no rustling animals – only an unsettling stillness. It was a mystery that even the seasoned AFRICOM Operatives found peculiar.
Arizona and Sheffield both felt the unnatural silence as a foreboding prelude to something significant.
High above the dense canopy, the drone controlled by Marty continued its reconnaissance. Suddenly, the drone's camera captured a bizarre anomaly. A section of the forest and sky flickered erratically as birds flew through the area.
"What the..." Marty muttered, caught completely off guard by the unexpected visual distortion.
His exclamation drew the attention of the others. He manipulated the drone's camera to examine the strange phenomenon more closely. The flickering effect seemed to be contained within a specific area, one edge abruptly transitioning to the other.
"What is that?" Arizona asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Don't know. It's like... a reflection in a mirror, or something," Marty replied, utterly bewildered.
"Location," Arizona demanded.
"A few clicks northeast."
Arizona stood up abruptly, barking orders. "Pack your gear! We're moving northeast! Look for anything suspicious – anything resembling a mirror or some kind of distortion – along the way!"
The rest of the team exchanged confused glances at the mention of a "mirror."
"Move! Move!"
Everyone quickly rose and followed Arizona's lead. Sheffield, her maid outfit surprisingly practical in this environment, kept pace. The two, along with the camouflaged Manjuus, moved towards the location where the drone had detected the strange visual anomaly.
As they drew closer, Arizona's initial suspicion was confirmed. He and Sheffield both ducked behind a massive tree for cover. AZ-2 Team blended seamlessly into the nearby bushes, their round shapes and ghillie suits making them virtually invisible.
"No wonder aerial reconnaissance was ineffective in this area," Arizona stated grimly.
"Do you know what it is?" Sheffield asked, cautiously peeking around the side of the tree.
"Holographic Camouflage. It uses image projection to deceive the naked eye. I've only ever seen this in science fiction movies. This is how they used to hide large objects like ships or entire bases. I never thought I'd see one in real life," he explained, his voice a mixture of awe and concern.
(The holographic camouflage is inspired by "Star Trek: Beyond" when the USS Franklin was hidden by Jaylah using holographic camouflage)
"So, this technology did not exist in your world?" Sheffield inquired.
"Actually, it did exist, but only for stationary objects and on a much smaller scale – human-sized or car-sized, not an entire base," he clarified.
"Whoa, a Star Trek reference?" Alex interjected, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Nope, there are plenty more instances of holographic camouflage being used in sci-fi movies," Gloria corrected him matter-of-factly.
"Should we contact the Base about our discovery?" Sheffield asked, a subtle note of concern creeping into her usually stoic tone.
"Maybe later... we still need to know what's inside this thing," he replied, his eyes scanning the seemingly solid wall of shimmering air for any sign of an entrance or opening.
"How are we going to enter this thing without being detected?"
"I'm still figuring that one out," he admitted.
Arizona's gaze fell upon the camouflaged Manjuus.
"Don't you dare toss one of us in there, sir," Gloria said bluntly, anticipating his thought process.
His eyes then darted to the nearby ground, searching for anything he could use to test the holographic camouflage's properties.
He picked up a nearby acorn and slowly tossed it towards the shimmering distortion, making it appear as though it had simply fallen from the tree.
"Oh, boy... he's actually going to throw something into it," Gloria muttered, her concern about triggering an alarm growing.
The Manjuus concealed in the bushes tensed, bracing themselves for a potential wailing siren and an unknown number of hostile Sirens emerging from the other side.
Sheffield noticed his action. "Hey, what are you—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Arizona swiftly grabbed her, covering her mouth, and waited for any Siren response. The acorn passed cleanly through the holographic camouflage and struck something metallic on the other side, producing a faint clinging sound.
Nothing happened. No alarm, no patrol, no response whatsoever. Just silence.
"Was that supposed to happen?" Allan asked, his ghillie suit rustling slightly as he trembled.
"A delay, perhaps?" Gloria mused.
Sheffield elbowed Arizona sharply in the ribs after his sudden grab and the unwelcome hand covering her mouth. She was not amused by his startling tactics.
"Ouch!" he grunted softly.
"What was that for?" she demanded, her voice laced with irritation at his abrupt actions.
"Sorry..." he mumbled, rubbing his side.
"Don't do that again, or you'll get yourself killed," she retorted, echoing the very words he had spoken to her earlier.
Arizona grumbled under his breath. "Damn. Using my own words against me."
As the unexpected tension between the two subsided, Arizona ordered Marty to deploy a small RC car-sized drone inside the holographic camouflage. Marty carefully maneuvered the drone forward, sliding it silently through the shimmering barrier.
He then initiated the video feed. The screen displayed a massive base enclosed by high walls, complete with a dense network of compact anti-air defense systems.
Arizona and Sheffield stared at the video feed, surprise and a dawning sense of fear etched on their faces. This was unlike any Siren forward operating base they had encountered. This was a heavily fortified main base.
"This base... this isn't just another Siren forward base. This is a Main Base," Arizona stated, a slight tremor in his voice.
The drone's camera slowly swiveled upwards, capturing the construction of a towering Siren Weather Towers by numerous Siren minions.
"Maybe that Siren Weather Tower is responsible for concealing this entire place," Sheffield speculated.
"Yeah... that Siren Weather Tower puzzles even William," Arizona admitted.
The drone's camera then panned slightly to the right, revealing numerous radar emplacements, clearly designed to detect aircraft.
Arizona muttered, "Thank god... the Hornet drone is small enough to evade detection by those air-defense radars."
"What do you mean they can't detect this tiny aircraft?" Sheffield asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Back in my world... a drone like this would trigger every alarm in the base, the ground radar systems would likely classify it as an incoming artillery shell. We're incredibly lucky the Sirens haven't yet grasped the nuances of small drone warfare," he explained.
"That drone would have been fried or shut down instantly," Alex added, gesturing emphatically with his hands.
Suddenly, their headsets crackled loudly, causing everyone to jump, their hearts leaping in their chests at the unexpected noise. The Manjuus resembled startled chickens, albeit without the scattering of feathers.
It was Minneapolis, contacting them with her findings. They quickly tuned in to her report.
"This is Minneapolis. I've located a structure with Siren markings and blue lighting. It appears to be an entrance."
Arizona radioed back, "Got it. Send me your coordinates."
Minneapolis transmitted her location. Arizona and Sheffield gathered their equipment and headed towards her position, reaching her within a minute.
"Has anyone exited that entrance?" Arizona asked her.
"Not yet," she replied.
Before them stood a structure flanked by two pillars adorned with glowing blue Siren markings, resembling an elaborate RGB lighting display.
Submarine
Archerfish and Albacore, in their Submarine Rigging, escorted a small ROV each, heading cautiously towards the shore. Their mission was to scout and map the seafloor for mines and hidden traps, with a particular focus on the potential beachhead.
They observed the ROVs in the distance as they performed their tasks, the small underwater vehicles just barely visible to the naked eye. The ROVs meticulously scanned the seabed.
The two Submarines remained submerged, guarding the ROVs. Once confirmation came that the ROVs had not been detected, they ascended to periscope depth, their periscopes breaking the surface like two slender straws in the vast ocean. Each Submarine's Periscope swiveled left and right, scanning for any surface vessels in the vicinity.
Archerfish spoke, her voice carrying a note of bewilderment. "Weird."
Albacore inquired, "What do you mean, 'weird'?"
"My sonar detected a Siren ship moving directly in front of us, but my periscope isn't showing anything," she explained, her confusion evident.
"Yeah. I heard it too," Albacore confirmed, her own sensors reporting the same anomaly.
The two Submarines cautiously moved a short distance further, and then they both saw it – a distinct shadow moving above them. They simultaneously looked upwards through their periscopes to identify the unseen vessel.
The size, the color, the unmistakable shape – it was a Siren ship. They exchanged wide-eyed glances, the same question forming on their faces. "How?"
They both slowly and carefully ascended closer to the surface, their periscopes just breaking the water, minimizing any telltale surface disturbance.
Archerfish and Albacore peered through their periscopes. The good news: they had confirmed the ship's identity. The bad news: they had inadvertently sailed into the middle of a tight formation of Siren ships.
Albacore spoke, her voice hushed. "Siren ships in formation... that can only mean one thing."
"We're close to the Base," Archerfish finished grimly.
A few tense minutes later, Albacore and Archerfish reached their designated listening post. They both deployed towed array antennas, passively listening to Siren transmissions. Most of the communications were heavily encrypted and far more advanced than their current decryption capabilities.
"My brain is going to melt from all this technological sophistication," Albacore exclaimed in frustration.
"Yeah... most of this encryption is completely new," Archerfish agreed.
"Maybe we should just let Arizona and the Meowfficers figure this one out."
"Yeah, but how?" Archerfish asked, a hint of helplessness in her voice.
Albacore smirked. "I just received a significant retrofit to accommodate modern electronics, right before we sortied."
"Why wasn't I informed about this?" Archerfish asked, a pang of jealousy evident in her tone.
Albacore placed a finger to her lips, signaling for silence. "It's one of the Top Secret projects Azur Lane has been conducting over the past few weeks."
Archerfish simply nodded, understanding the need for secrecy in such sensitive operations.
"Alright, let's do this," Albacore said, activating one of the advanced electronic devices installed during her recent refit. The device began silently recording the Siren transmissions, completely undetected.
Albacore remained at their listening post, diligently collecting any data that could potentially be used to counter the Sirens. Archerfish cautiously patrolled the surrounding waters, guarding her from any potential threats above or below.
Then, as if the moon had eclipsed the sun, a massive shadow passed directly overhead, plunging their underwater world into temporary darkness. The sheer size of this particular Siren ship baffled them, rivaling that of the CVN-80 USS Enterprise.
Both submarines looked upwards through their periscopes, their eyes wide with disbelief at the colossal vessel. Its trimaran hull design sliced through the surface waves like razor-sharp blades. They were both speechless, utterly awestruck. They then spotted eight massive propellers propelling the Siren ship at an astonishing speed of over twenty knots.
"What was that?" Albacore finally managed to utter, her voice filled with awe.
"I-I don't know," Archerfish stammered, struggling for words.
"A... a new Siren ship?"
"Seems like it."
Albacore then shifted her attention back to the recording device, a small green light indicating its successful operation. "All done. Let's recall the ROVs and get out of here. Now."
"Let's go," Archerfish agreed hastily.
After retrieving their respective ROVs, the two submarines began to retrace their path. However, their escape route was abruptly blocked by a Siren Blockade Device. They were now trapped within Siren-controlled waters.
"Great. We're trapped in here," Archerfish muttered, a distinct note of irritation in her voice.
"Can we just torpedo our way out of here?" Albacore suggested, her tone reflecting her growing anxiety.
Archerfish shook her head firmly. "No... we're not like those Modern Kansens, who use all sorts of cunning tricks and tactics to get out of situations like this. Besides, creating a massive explosion in Siren-held waters will only attract more Siren ships."
"Arizona said to use this if we were in trouble. Well, this is definitely trouble," Albacore said, holding up a small, specialized communication device.
Archerfish nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's do it."
Albacore and Archerfish transmitted a distress signal directly to USS Arizona.
SSN-803 USS Arizona, a Virginia-class submarine, received the urgent distress call from the two trapped Submarines. Manjuus and Meowfficers crew members rushed to their stations, analyzing the incoming signal. They immediately relayed the distress call to the surface via a towed buoy antenna.
Arizona, having just deployed a small Hornet drone to survey the Siren base entrance, received the alarming distress signal.
"Shit," he cursed under his breath, his previous annoyance instantly replaced by concern.
He stopped abruptly, turning to face Minneapolis and Sheffield. "We need to change priorities. The subs are in danger."
"That really does sound like trouble," Alex commented, his earlier levity gone.
Sheffield interjected sharply, "No. We cannot abandon our primary reconnaissance mission for a rescue operation."
Arizona knew arguing with Sheffield was often a futile endeavor. He quickly formulated a different plan. He handed the drone controller to her. "You two and AZ-2 Team will continue the reconnaissance of the Siren Base. I will go and rescue the subs."
Sheffield stared at him, stunned by his audacious decision to single-handedly attempt a rescue mission in the heart of Siren-controlled waters.
"You crazy asshole," she muttered under her breath, a mixture of disbelief and grudging respect in her tone.
"Is that... suicidal?" Minneapolis asked, her eyes wide with apprehension.
"Yeah, I know. That's precisely why I want the two of you and AZ-2 Team to continue the recon on the Siren Base. The information you gather could be crucial."
AZ-2 Team saluted in resolute acknowledgment of the order. "You can count on us," they said in unison.
Arizona then separated from the two cruisers and AZ-2 Team, then headed towards the last known location of the trapped Submarines, his mind already formulating a rescue strategy.