Halsey poured two fingers of bck coffee into a mug and slid it across the desk toward Georgia.

  "I want everything, Georgia. Start talking."

  Georgia's fingers tightened around the folder she had summoned into her p, then she pced it carefully on the desk and opened it.

  "Alright. Baseline timeline—the one I was prepped with—goes like this: Pearl Harbor is attacked on December 7th, 1941. Massive damage. Eight battleships hit, four sunk. Over two thousand Americans killed. That attack is what kicks off America's full-scale entry into World War II. We weren't ready, but we had to move."

  Halsey sat silent, absorbing it.

  "Wake falls. The Philippines fall. The Japanese push hard across the Pacific—Burma, the Dutch East Indies, New Guinea. We take loss after loss for months. The United Kingdom? Worse."

  Georgia turned another page in the thick folder, revealing a set of grainy recon photos and rough battle diagrams beled "CORAL SEA – MAY 1942."

  The moment the name hit the air, Halsey's eyes narrowed like a wolf catching scent. "That's soon," she muttered. "Intel says they're probing the Solomons again."

  "This," Georgia said, tapping the page with two fingers, "was the first carrier-versus-carrier battle in recorded history. No direct ship-to-ship contact—just air wings. And it nearly became a gunnery duel when the fleets closed to within a couple hours' sail. If we're lucky, if the other girls are still in the theater, we can redirect them to catch the Japanese fleet mid-deployment. Stop them cold at Port Moresby. Decisively."

  Halsey frowned. "Why would we need everyone? Lexington and Yorktown are already fueled. I can have them underway in eight hours."

  Georgia shook her head. "Because even with them, we lose Lexington. Yorktown gets mauled. Their strike packages hit hard, coordinated with frightening precision. Half of that is experience. The other half? I can only assume Siren interference.

  Halsey's fingers drummed once on her armrest. "What's the alternative? We throw Enterprise and Saratoga in as well? Pull Hornet out of workups?"

  "I'm saying," Georgia replied, eyes locked, "we bring everyone. The South Dakotas, the fast girls, the sub-hunters. Load the girls up, take the gloves off. Hit them with so much steel and fury they can't regroup. Force the Sirens to commit early."

  "And risk Pearl going exposed?"

  "Please by the time they find out about it, Iowa will be here to reinforce with another fleet, and with my speed, can leave to catch up to the expeditionary force for the battle." Georgia states

  Halsey stared at her a long moment. "So if we do nothing, we bleed?"

  Georgia nodded. "You lose Lexington. Yorktown's patched up just in time to barely limp into Midway. Hornet and Enterprise carry the whole weight. And we win—but barely. And with losses that we can repce but now that you know they are unnecessary."

  Halsey sits contempting only giving Georgia time to slip to another page and reiterate.

  "Wake shouldve fallen. The Philippines fall. The Japanese push hard across the Pacific—Burma, the Dutch East Indies, New Guinea. If we route them here and head up to Midway, we change the game. We ambush the fleet at operation Mo, then the Kido Butai, sink four of their fleet carriers, and cripple them before they even realize what was coming."

  Georgia flipped to the next page. Ship silhouettes lined the top in red Xs.

  "If not we will bleed for every inch once we let them entrenche themselves that. Guadalcanal. The Slot. Leyte. The entire Solomons campaign. It's ugly, but by 1944, we're rolling. The Marianas, the Philippines, Iwo Jima, Okinawa—each step brings us closer to the Home Isnds."

  Halsey finally spoke. "But that's not what's happening here."

  "No." Georgia leaned forward. "Pearl stood. Wake held. Enterprise didn't fight at Midway because it hasn't happened yet and nothing's following the script. That should've been a disaster. But the Sirens? They're active way earlier than in any record. They're influencing the Sakura, tampering with events. Hell, they might have done more than that—they might've rewritten entire people."

  After all, if Georgia had said there were no sirens, then she wouldn't have believed that those menaces had been around since the Bronze Age on this world.

  Halsey exhaled slow, deep. The war was coming. She could hear its drums already.

  "You said Iowa will be ready?"

  Georgia's lips curved into a rare, stiff smile. "I guarantee it."

  "And the Royal Empire?" Halsey asks

  "Tell them, hell prince of whales could use the warning, she strikes out alone and dies from a carrier for it." Georgia states.

  ===

  The sea churned under the weight of destiny.

  Gray clouds stretched across the sky, casting long shadows over the Pacific as the fleet surged forward like a spear thrown by the gods. The rain held—for now. But the pressure in the air, the thickness of it, hinted at more than just weather. Something else was building. Something deeper.

  At the front of the formation sailed the three sisters—Yorktown, Enterprise, and Hornet—their silhouettes sharp against the morning light, each a monument to the resolve of the United States Navy. Ocean spray misted off their rigging, and the endless beat of propellers echoed like a war drum across the swells.

  Yorktown stood tall, her coat fluttering against her legs, the insignia on her shoulder proud and undimmed. Her eyes were forward, locked on a point far beyond the curve of the world—one only she could see. Duty had shaped her, but it hadn't dulled her. Not yet.

  Behind her, Enterprise adjusted her gloves, slow and methodical. Her hat sat low on her brow, casting her eyes in shadow, but the quiet tension in her stance said enough. She wasn't here for a sortie.

  She was here for a war.

  To her left, Hornet exhaled and rolled her shoulders. "This many girls moving at once…" she muttered, almost to herself. "Feels like we are doing another fleet exercise but with twice as many of us."

  Behind them, the fleet stretched across the sea.

  South Dakota and Massachusetts, their massive turrets tracking the skies, their rigging gleaming with ocean spray. The Clevend and Baltimore cruisers formed the armored heart of the line, fnked by agile destroyers—Fletcher, Heermann, Spence, and more—gliding just ahead like hunting dogs on the scent.

  Aircraft buzzed overhead in organized yers—Wildcats all holding scouting formation above their respective carriers like guardian angels. Radio chatter ced the airwaves, clipped and tight. Professional. Disciplined.

  Every girl knew where she was supposed to be.

  Every girl knew what was coming.

  "Are we there yet?" Laffey asks over the radio.