AN: While I'm not planning to do a day-by-day analysis of the Polish Navy and their allies in World War II, September and October 1939 were kind of big months for Poland and I wanted to imagine the Polish Trio's reaction to them even if in passing. Because of that, I'm splitting the original chapter into two parts.

September 7, 1939

"Beware of Scapa Flow. Here there be dragons!"

It took all of her strength to avoid rupturing her ballast tanks from laughter. Life at sea as a U-boat was thrilling to be sure, but there were weeks on end where it could all seem so…boring. Therefore, when U-47 shared her "map" of the North Sea, she couldn't help but feel like a little girl in a candy shop: her sister had a reputation for taking creative liberties with the do's and do not's of the high seas, and U-47 had certainly delivered. Viking longboats adorned a hastily-drawn outline of Norway, and a frowning woman guarded the thin gap between France and England, or "Hood's neighborhood" per the medieval scrawl. As for Scapa Flow, it needed not saying that the cove that had caused her predecessors so much grief in the Great War was packed with ravenous-looking warships eager to take a bite out of the German wolfpacks. The fool who dared infiltrate that British haven would be in dire need of divine protection.

In all fairness, it was the dragons needing protection, not them. As members of the Kriegsmarine, she and her many sisters understood very well that the Royal Navy required sustenance to survive, and it was their goal to watch the light fade from the Royal Navy's eyes as it was slowly starved into submission. Rumors had it that U-47 had already bagged a mixed goods freighter earlier that day, and it was now her job to one-up that count.

"Ship approaching, estimated 20 knots."

With the help of her crew, she nimbly turned about and began stealthily approaching her target from the safety of the deep blue depths. From this distance it was too difficult to gauge what sort of vessel was about to be her unlucky catch, though it didn't really matter. Assuming it was a hostile ship, a kill was a kill.

"Ship approaching, estimated 26 knots, accelerating."

Huh, so a cruise liner then? She wasn't familiar with oilers or freighters going so fast, but it was a rare sight to spot a passenger ship with such a thin beam. Regardless, attacking would be risky business. If she didn't want a national scandal on her hands, the U-Boat would have to verify that it was undeniably a troop ship masquerading as a neutral vessel.

But what kind of passenger line was sailing this far North? They were nearing South Ulst Island for crying out loud!

Her hands grew damp with anticipation.

"Ship approaching…estimated 34 knots…"

Definitely not a passenger ship, or at least any liner that she'd heard of. In that case it'd certainly be a warship, and a British one at that.

Her target grew more unappetizing by the second.

"Ship approaching…estimated 39 knots…"

What.

What.

39 Knots? Was this some sort of English devilry?

"What in heaven's name goes that fast?!" the German roared out, frantically raising a periscope to the surface.

And promptly lost engine control at the sight before her.

There before the U-boat's very eyes was a destroyer bearing down upon the hapless submarine like a maniac, an enthusiastic bravado plastered on her face and a red-white pennant eagerly flapping like a battle flag in her wake.

It was the Polish destroyer Błyskawica, one of the last, if not the last, ships she wanted to see.

"Oho, what have we here? A German submarine? Here? Why, you deserve a medal for such bravery, dear foe! Come, let me give it to you!"

Yeah, nope.

With all her strength the U-Boat crash-dived as a muffled boom resounded where she had been mere minutes earlier. Another chorus of booms convinced her to dive even deeper. Better to live another day than run the gauntlet of depth charges.

"Remember," Błyskawica smiled mockingly as she radioed the fleeing German. "Here, there be dragons."

"Bullshit!" Some passing sailors ducked as a mug was hurled onto the quayside.

"I saw it with m'own eyes," Wanderer smiled apologetically. "One second I was astern of Blylyl here and the next she was hurrying off like a bull in a bull ring."

"Aha, so perhaps you imagined the whole encounter!" Grom wagged an accusatory finger. "In your haste to find an inglorious Hun committing dastardly crimes, you mistook a sleepy sea otter for a periscope!

"A sea otter?" Błyskawica snorted. "Do you really think that I'm blind?"

"In all fairness, you didn't sink the U-boat," Burza amended quietly. "She slipped away, and will probably cause us trouble later."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the Polish trio. Even Wanderer stared into her rum ration awkwardly. They all knew too well that an allied merchantman laden with iron ore had been sunk earlier that morning, the perpetrator entirely unaccounted for. It was only a matter of when and where before it claimed her next victim.

"Well, in that case, that means the bet to be the first one to kill a German is still on the table!" Grom chirped cheerfully. "This time, I won't lose!"

Just then Hood steamed in, with Rodney and a cruiser they had never met before in tow.

"Ah, Błyskawica, Grom, Burza!" the battlecruiser tooted and gave a congratulatory wave. "I've heard that one of you had a run-in with a U-boat and gave her a what-for. Well done!"

"Congratulations on your accomplishments!" the cruiser chimed in meekly. The three Poles took an immediate liking to her. She was very tall, but looked gentle enough to be incapable of hurting a fly. Nevertheless, her twelve rifles and sleek modern profile served a stern reminder that the newcomer was more than capable of causing trouble.

Most appealing of all however was her voice. She had a very lyrical, rhythmic pace to her intonation, a refreshing change from the grumpy gargle of the Scottish destroyers or the crisp English that most of the battleships adopted. Burza especially took note of this.

"Where are you from?" the Wicher-class destroyer demanded. "I never knew English could be spoken so…saintlike."

The cruiser flushed red in embarrassment. "I'm from here…the United Kingdom…"

"Well you speak more clearly than any English vessel I know. Even Hood can be hard to understand sometimes, and she's as English as they come!"

Unnoticed, Hood ahemmed uncontrollably into her gloved hands.

"What's the matter?" Rodney snickered. "Bagpipe up the wrong boiler?"

"Shhhhh!" she shushed her friend hurriedly.

"…not really," the soft-spoken ship spirit protested, sweating under their heaps of praise. "It just seems that way. Guessed I picked that habit up somehow after leaving Belfast." That got the Anglo-Polish destroyers' attention.

"You're Irish!" Grom and Błyskawica shouted in unison.

"Aye…Northern Ireland…"

"Well, if you don't mind me saying this, my dear Irish-Cruiser," Burza lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I do wish Poland had ordered my colleagues from your birth-yard. If they did, I'm sure there would be world peace."

"Oi! You really think that the Germans would have left us be?!"

"I'm sure if you had even a hair of the softness that Mademoiselle Irish-Cruiser had, Königsberg would have written an anonymous treatise on why the Polish Navy was the greatest thing on this green earth and that Hitler should leave us Poles be! And he would have accepted it!"

"But then we'd be less scary!"

"So?"

"I told you that you'd get along with them just fine," Hood smiled reprovingly as the cruiser began giggling softly. "They're quite hard to dislike. Even our human crew agree that the Poles make top-rate seamen."

"But who is she?" Błyskawica demanded.

"This is HMS Belfast, a Town-class cruiser, the victor of Operation Hipper and one of the finest cruisers in the entire world if I say so myself," Rodney stated. "She arrived here a day before you three did, but with the tragedy unfolding in Poland there was no time to make a proper introduction. Would you and Wallace mind showing her around?"

"It would be an honor!"

"Gladly!"

"Of course!"

Hood, Wallace, and Rodney looked on fondly as Belfast disappeared into the distance flanked on all sides by a Polish ship spirit keeping constant vigilance.

"So…Mademoiselle Belfast…"

"Belfast will do…I was just commissioned last month…"

"And you've already sunk German warships?!"

"No…it was a simulation against the Home Fleet…I was supposed to pretend to be a German Raider and escape into the Atlantic…"

"And you outsmarted them all?"

"Well…"

"Oh, tell us your ways, mighty cruiser!"

"But it was just the Pentland Firth! That's all I did!"

September 12th, 1939

"On the evening of September 9, Polish forces launched a counterattack along the Bzura River and successfully forced the Reich's troops to retreat. Initial reports suggest that as many as several thousand Germans were taken prisoner…"

"This is it!" Grom did a happy jig and made a victory lap around the radio. "It's working! They're overextending! Our friends and sisters shall soon be avenged with Teutonic blood!"

"But will it be enough?" Burza bit her lips worriedly. "For days we've been forced back. The Germans certainly have air superiority as the Marshal doesn't begin dictating the battlefield, only southeastern Poland will remain free."

"Have confidence, my good French destroyer!" Błyskawica flexed her arms in encouragement. "Remember what Wicher said? We'll fight until they hack the flesh off our bones! We'll fight them here, there, anywhere! Even as ghosts, we shall never relent, ever!"

"Do you really believe so?"

"Huh?"

"You're doing it again, Błys," Grom made an eagle-like gesture.

"I am? Oh. Right." The younger Grom quickly untangled her limbs from their aquiline pose. "Once the Polish troops stabilize the front lines, all we'll have to do is hunker down and wait for the Anglo-French alliance to bring to justice. I have faith that the Polish Republic will prevail!"

September 17th, 1939

"Oh my God."

If Hood could, she would have rewound the announcement and played it over and over again. But she knew that her ears and communication systems did not deceive her. In that moment, the battlecruiser could think of only one thing.

"Belfast, get the Polish trio, now."

"Right away."

"The Poles dinnae plan for that, did they?" Wallace swallowed hard. "The Reds invading them, I mean."

"From what I understand, no." Rodney rasped. "But who could? Two ideologies that were at each other's throats not even a decade ago in Spain, now working side-by-side?"

"THE DAMN TRAITORS!" A new voice thundered. Belfast saluted apologetically as Burza burst into the room, her face red with rage.

"After seeing the efforts of the French United Front and their aid to Spain…I had hope, and the Soviets crushed it like an ant beneath their heel!"

"Allied aid is on the way. There's still a cha-"

"A chance. A CHANCE?" She laughed bitterly. "Our armies are conducting a fighting retreat on one side and being stabbed in the back by a country who claims to despise everything the Germans represent. And all I've done is sit around gallivanting about like a horse with no rider. Admiral Unrug confided in us that our crew and hulls could carry vital supplies home, sacrificing our lives if necessary, and what I have done to fulfill that expectation? Nothing. NOTHING! Not one convoy home, not one crate for the homeland…just me being utterly worthless!"

"Burza, wait. Wait!"

Before anyone could stop her, Burza burst into tears and darted out of the room.

"That was Burza, correct?" Hood sighed, drawing the brim of her sailor's cap over her face.

"It was," Belfast nodded.

"If the gloomy one is that enraged, then I fear what her more expressive comrades feel."

"It's done," Grom whispered quietly. "The action along the Bzura River is finished. 'A Crushing Victory,' the Germans will crow. With the Soviets to our east and Germans to the west, we have nowhere to stand. The Polish Republic is finished. Gone."

"Is this what the Romanovs felt when their empire crumpled beneath their feet?" Błyskawica chattered. "A gaping hole in their chest, as if their entire existence was meaningless?"

Neither her sister nor Burza uttered even the smallest syllable in reply, instead mournfully looking eastward out into sea."

"I wonder…was it really worth escaping, just for everything to end like this?"

"I say it was."

Clink. Clink. Clink. A massive hand tauntingly waved a bunch of glass bottles before their eyes.

"C'mon, take it. I'd say you need it far more than I do."

Very reluctantly, the destroyers accepted her offer. Burza began coughing and gagging uncontrollably as its contents made contact with her throat.

"It's the hard stuff, not the cheap 'grog' the Navy likes to hand out. Sorry 'bout that, shoulda told you beforehand," Royal Oak rubbed her neck in embarrassment.

"T-thanks."

Have noticed that the Polish trio tolerated her presence she promptly sat beside them, kicking her legs over the quayside's ledge.

"What wasn't gone, can't be lost."

"Huh?"

"Ah, drats, can never remember mum about Dreadnought's old stories," the battleship smacked her forehead. "Blimey I'm getting old. How do it go again? Ah, yes, here we go. There was a Japanese Admiral…To Go? Go To? Bah, doesn't matter. He was a silent fellow, but also a very astute one. Legend goes that when he was a child his mother refused to let him eat some sweets as there were none in the house. Using that logic, he promptly ate every sweet to be found, and when he was scolded by his parents he claimed that because they were never any candies in the first place they couldn't have possibly disappeared!"

"That's exactly what we needed to here, Royal Oak," Grom deadpanned and took another swig.

"Ah, nononono, that's not what I meant at all. You see, Poland exists. You know that, I know that, the Germans know that, and I'm certain even a desert tribesman could point to it on a map. Because it exists, so long as some element, some shard or soul, continues to fight on, Poland can't possibly disappear."

Błyskawica's eyes lit up in realization.

"The Polish Armies…they're awfully close to the Romanian border, aren't they, Błyskawica?" Royal Oak gazed intently into the Polish destroyer's brown eyes. "What's to stop them from crossing it? Defeat at home is not the end of your story, it is merely the beginning of a new chapter. So long as there is a ship standing, a soldier reporting for duty, the Polish Republic will continue to exist. We're all in this together now, remember that. The sun may disappear at night, but it is never gone. Eventually, no matter how long the wait, it will come back. It will come back."

A loud, ominous rumbling from both Royal Oak's stomach and a distant wharf promptly interrupted the battleship's speech.

"Ah, I knew that wasn't going to sit well with my boilers…well, I best be off and drain it out before the boys wonder what's wrong and shut off steam." She gave a violent yawn and began stumbling off. "It's too early for me to snooze…don't want to snooze…I'm an oak tree…hate being loggy…"

"Are you drunk?" Grom snorted.

Without even a second glance Royal Oak reached into her black coat and raised several empty bottles high over her head.

"Course I am. How'd you think I nicked the bottles for you three in the first place?"

"Well that's disappointing," Burza sighed at her retreating form.

"Wait! Royal Oak!" Błyskawica frantically chased after the battleship.

"Did you really mean what you said about Poland? That if it isn't gone, it can't disappear?"

"Of course I did, though to be frank I didn't state anything that you hadn't told me before," she raised an eyebrow. "I told you that not only to remind you why the Polish High Command sent you here in the first place, but also to give me hope that I could do the same, if heaven forbid the U.K. were to be conquered tomorrow."

September 20th, 1939, Early Hours

Knock. Knock.

KnockKnockKnock.

KnockKnockKnockKnockKno-

"MERDE, STOP BANGING ON MY BRIDGE DOO-oh, it's you," Burza glanced back at her uninvited guest and looked away apologetically. "Forgive me."

"On the contrary, forgive me," Belfast curtsied. "I should have been more patient and radioed you beforehand. I just thought I'd tell you first, before the others got wind of it."

"Good news, I presume?" the destroyer demanded, stiffening her back.

"Oh, I'd say so. Apparently the Royal Navy made contact with a friendly vessel a few days ago. There's a survivor from the Baltic."

"Headed here?"

"Aye."

"Steady now, don't strain the line! That's it, easy does it. Oi, navigator! Watch it! This isn't the Thames!"

"I'm doing my best in these waters, but she's not responsive in the slightest."

"I wouldn't expect any better," one of the tugboat's passengers, a middle-aged officer, sighed in resignation. "She's seen better days."

"You Poles did a good job by my reckoning," the navigator winked encouragingly. "It must have been very difficult getting out of there, with those wolf-packs and all. Dare I say that perhaps your feat shall never be repeated again?"

"I fear that that will be the case. We were the last ones to escape the Germans or neutral internment."

They saw her before they hear her. She was strolling the dock with an exaggerated limp, her oblivious human crew in tow warily scanning their new home. Aside from a visibly-strained leg (a battle scar from overtaxing her engine during the flight, the newcomer was none the worse for the wear), much to the three destroyers' relief.

"Wilk…is that you?"

"Ah, Burza…Grom…Błyskawica…it's been awhile…"

September 20th, 1939 Mid-day

"Drink."

Wilk frowned and wrinkled her nose at the flask before her. "That's rum."

"This is not the time to be picky about your beverage," Błyskawica countered, "please Wilk, drink. You just made the journey from hell, and must be utterly exhausted by now."

"Besides," Belfast added, "all the destroyers chipped in to give you a cuppa of their stash. It's not easy getting the concentrated form, you know."

"I could care less whether it's the sweetest nectar of the earth," the Franco-Polish submarine returned, "It will intoxicate me either way. I'm not young anymore."

"Shall I dilute it into grog for you?"

"That won't be necessary. If you did, then I couldn't talk coherently."

"Talk? About what?"

"Something that is best shared in private," Wilk replied firmly. "I know what these three," she shifted her gaze towards the waiting destroyer trio, "have pulled me aside for. Do excuse me if I ask you and the other British shipgirls to give us some space."

"Of course. Shall I tell the battleships to divert the destroyers' gazes elsewhere? Your arrival caused quite the commotion."

"Please do."

Grom patiently waited until Belfast had clicked her heels and walked away before glaring wrathfully at the newcomer.

"The hell was that for, Wilk? First thing you do the moment you step foot on allied soil is to boss around Belfast, a polite and brilliant cruiser, of all things? And what could possibly be so important that you swore us to secrecy."

"The truth."

Instinctively, Grom, Burza, and Błyskawica flinched at her knowing gaze.

"How could you tell?"

"Your eyes." Wilk tossed the flask back to Błyskawica. "Pass it around, you three will need it."

"We won't."

"If you insist," she rolled her eyes. "Where should I start?"

"The moment the German troops unlawfully marched across the Polish border," Grom burst out eagerly. "I want to know in how many different ways those savages defiled the law so I can kill them slowly, and painfully."

"Huh, so you know less than I thought. You really think the opening salvos were fired in Śląsk?" Wilk deadpanned. "No, they were fired at Gdynia."

Błyskawica tilted her head in confusion. "…Gdynia? But how on earth could the Germans get into shooting distance so soon? The only thing I can possibly think of is—"

"—Schleswig-Holstein," Grom growled, the sound growing more feral at Wilk's affirmative nod. "I can't believe that classy, elegant woman could be such a cunning bitch."

"The battleship wasn't there for a 'ceremonial visit' after all; it was a carefully orchestrated plan from the start to hack away at our exposed underbelly. Unfortunately, that was only the start of our troubles. Once Schleswig's guns began firing, the real fun began…"

"and so here I am, a little ruffled but otherwise none worse for the wear."

"All of that, and yet not a word of what we actually wanted to know," Błyskawica folded her arms. "We didn't want to know what happened; that much will be for the history books to decide. We wanted to know what happened to them?"

"To whom?"

"Don't play dumb Wilk, you know what we wanted; you said you saw it in our eyes yourself."

Wilk's mouth twitched in discomfort. "I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but Gryf really dropped the ball that morning. She was supposed to mine the Bay to prevent the German navy from sailing in it, but as soon as the bombers came screaming down, she panicked and jettisoned them all. Worst part is that because no one knows we exist, her acting captain took the fall."

She paused and looked away from Burza and Grom.

"Because of her failure, a group of destroyers led by…Maass , I believe her name was, was able to pin them along the shoreline. Gryf and Wicher fought hard, the former especially to redeem herself for her shortcomings, but it wasn't enough. At the end of the day the German bombers returned, and that was that. As the rest of Huragan's remains are rotting away in Gdynia, I believe the youngest Grom's spirit went down with those that day. I pray that the sea was merciful and that they did not suffer long."

"What about the other submarines? What happened to them?"

"Once the Worek Plan was clearly untenable, the five of us parted ways. Sęp, Żbik, and Ryś should be in good hands; the Swedes seemed welcoming enough to keep them happy during their internment. As for the fate of Orzeł," Wilk grimaced deeply, "I fear for our Dutch comrade. One of the German minelayers laid a nasty hit on her with a depth charge, and I think it addled her captain's and her own brains to the point they decided to head to Estonia to of all places for internment."

"Actually, there was a report about that the other day," Burza corrected. "Supposedly something happened, and the Estonians 'lost' her."

"Don't get your hopes up," the Franco-Polish submarine pre-emptively put up a hand in dismissal. "It took me almost a week to get through the German Navy unscathed, and that was without them actively looking for me. A wounded submarine escaping internment is too big of a target to avoid placing within German scopes. They won't let her get away without a huge fight, and if they don't, the sea will take her."

"What is the longest you think it could possibly take to get from the Baltic to Britain?" Błyskawica pressed.

"The longest? Hmmm…about two weeks, maybe three…but as I said young Grom, I wouldn't be optimistic about it."