Chapter Text
Z23 tapped her feet nervously as she watched the transport ship pull into the harbour, come to a stop and lower its anchor. Aboard it would be the base’s new commander. The previous one had - well, departed in less than glorious circumstances, apparently quietly transferred to a desk position after his logistics forms were shown to be partially falsified.
She only hoped that this one would make a better job of it. From what rumours she had managed to scrounge up on her daily rounds, he was a distinguished officer, known especially for his skill in directing artillery barrages, and for inventing a new type of gunnery radar that was currently being field-tested by the Royal Navy. He was also reported to be especially tall, muscular and good-looking - facts that had made some people on the base very excited, in a most unprofessional manner. And apparently he had earned his current promotion by beating back a major Siren operation in the Arctic, which none of them there at Wilhelmshaven had heard about. But that was fair enough, reflected Z23. War was a complicated business. As long as she worked hard and kept her base running, and as long as she worked under a commander who had similar ideas, she would be happy.
The strangest part of it all, though, was that nobody - not even well-connected Bismarck, nor authoritative Deutschland, nor all-knowing Eugen - had any clue what his name was. Well, she’d find out soon. It was truly a lovely day to welcome the new commander: the sun was shining bright and the sky was a beautiful shade of cornflower blue. There was only enough wind to slightly ruffle the surface of the water in pretty patterns. Birds flew overhead, chirping with not a care in the world. Around her, the usual activity of the base continued: the whirring of cranes, the rumble of trucks, and the chatter of dozens of shipgirls and thousands of ordinary human workers.
Clutching a sheaf of documents under her arm, Z23 straightened her back and watched as the transport’s passenger ramp was lowered. A figure emerged from the shadows within. He certainly was tall, easily over six feet tall, and very broad -
Wait.
No, it had to be a trick of the light.
Z23 blinked, adjusted her cap one more time and saluted as she spoke up.
“Ironblood destroyer shipgirl Z23, reporting for - “
“Silence, mortal.”
The words had died on Z23’s lips anyway. Her hand dropped from her forehead as she gaped at what stood before her.
No. Who stood before her.
Could it even be called a man? It could speak German, but that was about it.
Z23 had seen some pretty crazy things before. Being a shipgirl and fighting Sirens tended to make that happen. Mirror Seas, dimensional anomalies, energy weapons, time dilation - it had admittedly all happened before to her, and she’d managed to endure. But it wasn’t just that. Her friends and colleagues included multiple people with mental issues, romantic issues or both; warriors whose riggings were literal metallic dragons and yet who would flinch and cry out at the sight of a mouse; girls who would willingly level a small town, and go out for a burger afterwards; valiant defenders of humanity, and people even she, in her optimism, had to admit were rather twisted.
So she thought she’d become a bit tougher and experienced over the years of her service, and ready to meet new, unfamiliar things.
It couldn’t be that bad, right?
How wrong she had been.
The figure was like a golem of myth, or a statue brought to life. It towered over her, and had to be at least eight feet tall. It was clad from head to toe in black armour, lined with silver. Brutish, heavy plates were stuck together, with pistons, wires and tubes jumping from one to another. Dangling from its waist were pieces of parchment under red wax seals, covered in writing she could not decipher. A gigantic backpack was attached, mounting a dizzying variety of mechanical arms. For a moment she was reminded of some vast bipedal arachnid. But whereas those looked animalistic and vicious, this figure’s appendages were industrial and blocky. She saw some sort of gripping, multi-jointed arm, what looked like a type of autocannon positioned to fire over the left shoulder, another arm containing something looking a lot like a blow-torch, a third mounting a buzz-saw. At least four smaller arms waved about the backpack, slowly opening and closing as if searching for something to grab onto. The figure held a gigantic axe, taller than he was, on the side of which was emblazoned a gaping, vicious skull.
It stomped down the ramp like a mighty elephant, and came to a halt right in front of her. There it tilted its head to look at her, a snarling dark visage with one green eye and one red that was linked to the back by several bundles of wires. The rest of it was utterly still, as if switched off - as if it was some machine that had chosen to take the form of man, and only partially succeeded.
“Give me those documents,” it said in a grating monotone.
Wordlessly, Z23 passed him the files. The figure took them from her with no attempt at gentleness, yanking them out of her fingers and causing a paper cut in the process. She watched as it read through them at lightning speed, shifting from page to page, until finally, upon reaching the last few lines, it crumpled them up and tossed them into the water behind in one motion.
“The information has been processed. Z23, proceed with protocol.”
“A- of course, sir!” Ignoring the slight trickle of blood from her fingers, Z23 saluted properly, though she only really did so with a fraction of her mind. “Reporting for duty, sir! Welcome to Azur Lane Wilhelmshaven, commander! I have been assigned to give you a run-down of the base, and to act as your secretary until you should choose one of your personal preference.”
“I have no need for welcomes, destroyer, nor for assistance by mortals in administrative duties. Such would simply hinder my cognitive functions. Take me to my quarters instead, and do not ask any questions unless I say otherwise.”
Z23 tried to put something in, but then the figure looked at her, and its glare silenced her. Its armour hummed with power, causing a slight chattering in her teeth, and she could see that the head of the battle-axe faintly crackled with power. The figure that bore it exuded an aura of being old and whole, as if the technology around its body had fused and become one with it over the course of many, many centuries.
“Do not stare. The need to take your presence into account forces itself on my tactical cogitators and impedes my data interpretation. Do your duty instead, so that I may compute to the fullest extent.” The shoulder-mounted autocannon slightly tilted on its axis, nearly the only part of the figure that moved apart from the various mechanical arms. A light on the helmet, mounted over the red augmented optic, flashed as it seemed to record her presence.
Her eyes shifted slightly as she tried to comply. She saw that on its right shoulder pauldron was a red and silver cog, emblazoned over lettering that she didn’t have the time to read. On the left shoulder pauldron was a silvery grey hand, much like the figure’s actual left lower arm - which, she now noticed, was not clad in armour like the rest of its body, but was instead exposed to the elements, and clearly entirely artificial.
Mein Gott…
She had to restrain herself from putting a palm over her mouth in pure shock at that.
Was this thing even a man?
“Your biological signs are elevated,” it droned. “You are agitated. Explain.”
“Commander…” she tried to look into its eyes again. “I cannot resist two questions. What are you? What is your name?”
It tilted its head with a slight whirr of gears, as if to look past her head. Then it looked back down at her, and as one, all of its extra arms and appendages stopped moving and seemed to focus on her.
“My name is Kardan Stronos,” it finally said. “Iron Father of the Iron Hands, son of Ferrus Manus of the Xth Legion Astartes, leader of the Iron Council and lord of Medusa. And I am here to purge Azur Lane of the weakness of the flesh.”
It held up its metallic hand, and Z23 that, on its back, there was the familiar, comforting anchor of Azur Lane. Instantly relief began to trickle back down into her heart.
“So… you are the new commander?”
“Do not ask questions to which the answer is obvious. That is a sign of poor decision making, and thus weakness.” Stronos straightened slightly. “I am your new commander, and I will succeed where my predecessor failed, though I know my capabilities would be best used elsewhere. Now take me to my quarters, Z23, and make haste. We have much work to do.”
Unsurprisingly, the day now seemed less lovely to the Ironblood destroyer. She turned about, heart pounding, and began to walk into the heart of the naval base, with the mechanical giant in tow.
"Yes, sir."
What were her comrades going to say?