The Lone Queen Of The North

Chapter 6: The Azores

           At the sound of a somewhat quiet alarm, Michael woke up and found himself sharing his bed with Tirpitz. The girl had her arm draped over his body as the two slept in each other's embrace the night before. He smiled affectionately and planted a kiss on the girl's cheek. Michael then began to leave the bed, but Tirpitz pulled him back down.

           "Good morning, darling," she said seductively.

            "Good morning, dearie," he said chuckling lightly, "did you rest well?"

            "I did. It was even better since I was with you."

            "Aww, come here, you."

            Michael then brought Tirpitz into his arms, and pecked her on the lips. The two smiled at each other and released each other from their embrace. The battleship was nearing her destination, and so her crew needed to prepare themselves for the rendezvous with the Scharnhorst.

           Michael stood in front of his closet, deciding whether he should wear a casual set of clothing or his uniform. With input from Tirpitz, Michael settled upon casual wear.

          Upon walking out on deck, Michael was greeted by Helena who held out a muffin to her step-brother. Michael took it, and thanked her before continuing on to join the others. Scharnhorst, at that moment, leapt from the superstructure of her ship body to the decks of the Tirpitz. The Mental Model landed gracefully, and she walked over to the gathering of her human allies.

           "Hello captain, and company," Scharnhorst greeted with a small, friendly smile.

           "Hello, Scharnhorst," Michael greeted in return. Said Mental Model approached a table that held a map of the current world which held the attention of nearly everyone.

           "So what's our plan from here?"

           Michael placed a finger on the map, tracing his fingers from the sunken Azores, towards the North American continent.

           "Okay," he said catching everyone's attention, "we have two choices; one, we go through the Canadian Arctic. It's the safest route, as there is little to no Fog activity, it is also the longest, due to the unpredictability of the drifting ice. While I'm not doubting your hulls' integrity, I'd prefer not to have my ships slam into ice. It usually never ends well."

             Nods of understanding spread throughout the gathering.

            "Now," Michael continued, "the second option is that we go through the Caribbean Sea, either stopping in New Miami or somewhere in any Caribbean island. But either way; we're going through the Panama Canal. If it's blocked or destroyed, we either do it diplomatically or we force our way through. This area is particularly dangerous, however. A total of five major battle fleets have been observed patrolling the sea. Two of them have one of the Iowa-class of fast battleships as well as one of the North Carolina-class to boot. In the two others, most of them were either composed of the Atlanta-class or the Portland-class cruisers. Though in each one, the destroyers are of the Fletcher-class."

         Everyone, except the Mental Models nodded.

         "What's troubling is that the fifth fleet is an "Assault and Suppression' fleet. There are two Yorktown-class aircraft carriers, though they have a vast offensive capability, despite their low number."

         "What do you think the best choice would be, dear?" Tirpitz asked, laying a hand on Michael's shoulder.

         "I don't know. That's the reason why I brought this all to your attention," the captain responded as the wind blew gently.

         "Tell me why we're doing this out in the sun?" Wolfgang asked, annoyance being in his tone.

         "Because it's better than being cooped up in a hot engine room every hour of the day," Michael shot back, "though you still haven't given your opinion on what we should do. Again, we either go through the Canadian Arctic or the Panama Canal. It's as simple as that. Personally, I'd vote for heading through the Arctic. I don't want any of you to suffer if we head through what is essentially the gates of Hell down in the Caribbean."

             His silence then prompted each one present to think about the options ahead of them.

            "I say we risk the Canal," Franz spoke up suddenly after a moment of thought.

            "No, we shouldn't go through with that," Alicia stated, "like Michael said earlier, we have a higher risk of being under attack. Unlike in the north, we can pass through unhindered."

           "Of course, but the Canal would cut our journey considerably," Gerhardt interjected.

           "While that may be true," Klara added, "the Arctic route will give us breathing room to collect ourselves. Maybe it'll give us the chance to encounter some of the natives of the north as a side..."

            The crew fell silent, then Scharnhorst spoke up.

           "Well, what do you think, captain? You asked, and they answered."

           Michael looked at the map and analyzed the information, then taking into consideration his friends' decisions, he settled on one of his own.

           "We'll go through the Arctic," he said firmly, "I don't want to take unnecessary damage when fighting more than one major fleet. If we had more ships maybe we could've pulled off the Canal run."

            The crew nodded, satisfied with their captain's decision. After all, he was looking out for them... especially Tirpitz.

            Everyone then went to their designated stations as they prepared to weigh anchor. Michael had already sent the Scharnhorst up ahead as an early warning ship, though she was under orders not to stray too far in order for her and the Tirpitz to be in the optimal support range.

          Back on the Tirpitz's bridge, Michael sat in his chair with the Mental Model resting on the right armrest. The captain looked over the map once more on his console, plotted out the course, and confirmed the navigational data. Michael looked to the girl at his side, and smiled.

          Tirpitz smiled back and pecked her captain, now boyfriend, on the lips. They parted shortly afterwards, then Michael pressed a button on his console, and now his voice rang through the ship.

          "Attention everyone," he began, "we're about to embark on another perilous journey, but I have faith that we'll get through it together. Our goal is to make contact with the Japanese submarine I-401 and to escort her to San Diego port. That sub is important because she is carrying the last sample of the Vibration Warhead. Upon achieving that goal, we will provide support in any way we can. That is all. Anchors aweigh!"

           The ship fired up her engines and began moving from the Azores. It was time for the mission to finally begin.