[To North Africa] Fight the Italian Navy, liberate Northern Africa and save Gibraltar. Get involved in a conspiracy far beyond your station.
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
—
"We're going to the Strait of Gibraltar, I can't say more than that, at least, not with this many ears around and while we are still in port," I say quietly.
I am the only one who
is quiet, as Cassin audibly groans. "Gibraltar!? Come on, the Regia Marina girls always cared more about food and wine than fighting shit. They hardly ever came out with us to fight the si-"
I look at Cassin, and her jaw clicks shut. "Lower your voice or I shall have you removed from this vessel Cassin. We have our orders, which need to be kept quiet until we are underway."
"Are we… relieving the rock?" Sebastian asks.
"Possibly," I reply. "I don't have anything more than basic orders myself. We'll be sailing out to meet with the rest of our…" I pause. "
My task group in time, then we'll be on our way."
"Leviathan's not happy," Walter mutters.
"I'm aware."
"She's standing right behind you Admiral," Walter continues.
I close my eyes for a few moments, centering myself. Then I turn around to see Leviathan again, she's standing no more than a few feet away. Her blonde hair was glowing in the golden lights granted by the carrier's electrics above, and her red dress gleamed with every motion, glinting with every distant spark of a welder's torch. She was beautiful, but the frown on her face, and the crossed arms made all of that rather easy to ignore.
"We
aren't fighting the Nazis?" Leviathan hisses.
…
Right. I look past her towards the aft elevator, it was empty at the moment, barring some toolboxes laid out, and one of the new HRP Rescuer helicopters. "There, we'll speak there."
The group, with various levels of anger, annoyance, confusion and hesitance makes its way over, and I look over the helicopter for a moment before casting my gaze towards the blue sky above.
"The… the heck is that thing?" Cassin asks, no longer glaring at Leviathan, instead now wholly transfixed by the twin rotored beast now standing between us and the hanger.
"It's like a P-38 fucked a submarine."
"Cassin, please."
"A banana had a midlife crisis."
"
Cassin."
"Something new," Leviathan replies, steering the conversation away from the helicopter, but not removing her gaze from me. "To rescue downed pilots and spot submarines. Now, Admiral.
Explain."
"A large chunk of the US Navy is heading to the English Channel in order to defeat the German fleet there and relieve the attack on Dover. We, along with several other task groups will be heading to the Strait of Gibraltar, both to relieve that island, and to screen that body of water from Italian and German flanking maneuvers. We'll be dealing with the Kriegsmarine regardless, I assure you. But for this, we will likely be dealing with the Regia Marina."
I meet the carrier eye to eye. "Someone has to protect the fleet, that's us."
"I want to fight the Nazis, not the Italians," Leviathan says, her voice calm and cool, but with a hint of a threat behind it, like a tiger watching, but not pouncing.
"I… kinda don't want to either, but I'll follow the orders of the Navy."
Leviathan's gaze shifts to Cassin. "I will
not. My crew is here to fight the Nazis,
I'm ready to fight the Nazis."
I draw in a breath, controlling my temper. I understand her drive, I really did. I could only imagine her anger at what had been occurring in Europe since 1939. But... "We have our orders, I cannot, and will not supersede them. We will fight the Nazis, we will fight the Italians, and with any luck we'll fight the Japanese too. But right now, right here? The Navy needs us to focus on Gibraltar."
Leviathan loses all subtlety, glaring at me in pure disgust. I see Sebastian, the young captan stepping back nervously in the corner of my eye. Shooting glances to Walter in concern as he does so. I pay him little attention, instead, I meet the gaze of Leviathan. If she wanted, she could rip me limb from limb and toss me across this harbor.
"You are a coward," Leviathan hisses. "You are running from the main battle."
I stare at her, I stare at her for a good long while. Saying nothing, my gaze unwavering. I don't blink, I don't say anything. Leviathan finally wavers after a half minute, glancing away.
I raise my right arm. The sleeve falls away, revealing a white, bandaged, stump. "I would dearly love to get back at the Japanese for killing several of my friends and taking my hand from me. I would like to get back at the Nazis for bombing the city I grew up in. But, Leviathan, I have a job to do. I have a nation to support. And the nation has a war to win. I am only a small part of that, so are you. You can follow orders, or you can simply be removed from this equation like any other mutinous sailor."
I lower the arm. "You will never speak to me like that again, I am an Admiral of the United States Navy and commander of this vessel. You may hold my rank through common courtesy and administrative ease, but I remain, am, and will be, in command of you."
Leviathan opens her mouth to respond, or retort, frankly, I don't care.
"Sailor, you are dismissed."
The carrier's mouth shuts, and she disappears from sight, glaring. I stare at the spot she vacated for several moments, then raise my remaining hand to rub at my brow. I felt a headache coming on, "would someone kindly lead me to my quarters?"
"Did you just stare down a fucking carrier?" Cassin asks.
"Language, Cassin. For the love of all that is good in this world,
language."
—
Walter is kind enough to give me a cup of coffee and show me to my quarters. The coffee was surprisingly nice, especially given the standards I was living with until now. The quarters were also nice, too nice, in fact.
"This is amazing!" Cassin cries out.
Amazing, to be astonishing. Astonishing, to be greatly surprised. It is an accurate assessment. My in-port cabin on the Cassin was a simple thing, a room, roughly the size of a broom closet with dreams for the future. It contained a bed, a sink, a closet, and a very small pullout desk. It was my home for several years, though not frequently, with how much I had been at sea I had used the smaller, sea-cabin far more often. This room, meanwhile, is a palace masquerading as an officer's quarters. The room is split in half, with a central dividing wall in the center, placed horizontally separating the 'office' from the 'bedroom', a setup I have never seen before in my career. Upon it is the Stars and Bars, which is just about the only thing I recognize. In front of it sat a long and dark wooden desk, upon which sat a typewriter and several neat stacks of paper. Underneath it, and covering the entire room, is a deep azure carpet, soft and plush with no single stain or mark. The walls to either side were flush with couches and chairs, with small end tables with checkers and chess sets, between which lay a porthole to look out over Pearl.
Beyond the wall lies the bedroom, and it is somehow more egregious. A very large bed sits against the far wall, with a bedspread stretched across it, larger than my entire previous quarters, emblazoned with a golden anchor. There is an ensuite bathroom, two closets, a writing desk, several lounge chairs, a wine rack… a
full wine rack.
"This is… much." I finally say, taking it all in. "It appears this room hasn't changed much from when she was a liner."
"If you don't like it, can I have it?" Cassin asks, moving to sit on the bed.
"You have your own quarters, on your own vessel, so no," I reply.
"Spoooilsport." Cassin
—
It is quite a sight, to see the large carrier leaving the port. It is an interesting sight from a destroyer, yet it is even more impressive from the bridge. A dozen planes were tied down on the aft deck, their metal glinting in the morning sun, each decorated by a simple white cross on their tail to designate their home carrier being the USS Leviathan. It was 0600, and the sun was only just rising over Pearl, but it was busy, even now two weeks after the attack. In truth, Pearl was always busy, but this was different.
Repairs were underway, distant sparks shone from torches working along the port. Tugs moved about, barges moved metal and parts. But it paused, if only briefly as the Leviathan went through the channel. Men stood upon decks and docks, watching in silence as the behemoth floated by, she still had her scars from Pearl, minor though they were compared to the other carriers. Leviathan was standing next to you, arms crossed under her bust as she guided the ship out of the harbor. A nice quirk of shipgirls was, due to them
being the ship, they knew where they were at all times and what was around them… though to a very limited extent for the latter. It meant, regardless, that the job of a pilot when it came to docking or leaving port was unnecessary as long as a shipgirl was in charge. Her face spoke of concentration, and the bridge was completely silent as she worked.
That was unusual. The shipgirl could manage without her crew just fine, if less efficiently, the silence was more because Leviathan and myself were still not on speaking terms. It had been some time since my 'encounter' with her in the hanger, and since then there hadn't been a single word spoken between us.
… At least she hasn't blown her boilers.
Ahead of us was the Cassin steaming along, 'screening' the carrier as the two ships came out of port. Then I heard it, the first shout, followed by another, then another. The shouts are indistinct. But the cheers that followed later were anything but. Men lean over railings, waving hats as the carrier moves out of the port.
I smile. So does Leviathan, however briefly.
Just a few miles west to meet up with the convoy, then it was off to Panama. From there, Norfolk. From there, Europe.
—
Eight days later.
—
Thirty-some-odd destroyers, twelve cruisers, three battleships, and one carrier. That was the force complement that had just finished squeezing itself through the Panama Canal and was now steaming into the Caribbean. Of them, only Cassin was part of 'my' task group, the rest I was to be meeting with in Norfolk.
Who, exactly, is still being decided. In any case, the trip so far has been thankfully uneventful, there had been fears of Japanese submarines along the way to Panama, but while they had been present, they had all been well to the west of Pearl. And that is… something I was trying to keep out of my mind.
As much as Leviathan wishes to take the fight to the Germans, I wish to take the fight to the Japanese. But I have my orders. As did she for that matter. Leviathan herself was currently down on the flightdeck, speaking to one of the many pilots I have yet to learn the name of. She said 'good morning' to me when I arrived at the bridge this morning. Which I consider a notable improvement in German-Irish relations. That, of course, had been the only words between the two of us. But one takes what joys one can find in the Navy. The roar of an engine sounds, and I look down as a pilot guns the engine, his head and arm over the side of the cockpit to shout down at an engineer below. Ever since the Carrier had left Pearl I had put the crew on 0600 to 1800 flight training. As long as there was light, they were working, taking off, landing, chasing target dummies, and dropping dye bombs.
Quite a few were experienced already, flyers from the First World War. Such things happened when one deliberately hunted out German pilots. The rest however were learning well enough, at least that's what I could see with my eyes and what my chiefs were telling me. It was going to be another week to Norfolk, and I was going to have them as ready as they could be before…
Well.
I didn't really know what to expect at this point. Carriers didn't go siren hunting, they were too big of targets, and where the hunting had to happen the weather was anything but predictable. I sigh, then lean back from the window I had been leaning against. It was 1830, the sun was set already, and the only lights around were dim hooded things set about the flightdeck so the mechanics could work above for a short while longer.
I turn my head to look about the bridge, the crew is fitting in nicely, even if sometimes I get rather lost in the accents. Sebastian, my XO, is talking amicably to the radioman about the Cincinnati Reds. I am starting to get to know the man, but much to my shame, I haven't had much of a chance to meet my officers with how busy things have been. The ship was running well enough, and I would
like to schedule a dinner once we are with the rest of the task group at least.
My eyes slip over to Cassin. The shipgirl is sitting on one of the chart tables behind the bridge. She hasn't bothered to actually stay
on the Cassin, instead choosing to hang around with me instead. It wasn't something that particularly bothered me, I trusted Jones in running the ship. And, frankly, it was good to have a friend on the vessel. Leviathan was
still pouting.
"Good to be back in the Carribean Cassin?"
The destroyer shrugs. "I'm not looking forward to those Atlantic storms," she then turns her head to look out the paneless window. "Good to be near the States again though."
I smile, then open my mouth to speak.
It is then that the night becomes day.
A brilliant flash illuminates the landscape as a fireball erupts from the USS Honolulu just in front of us. A loud
crack and
bang sounds out, and I watch in confusion and horror as an explosion of water erupts around the vessel. Silence fills the bridge for a moment, then men are moving.
"Tuscaloosa is firing flares!" a voice shouts. "So's Lafayette!" comes another.
"Sebastian, sound general quarters."
"General quarters, aye sir!"
A stomp of feet, a shrill whistle, and men are running on the deck if they weren't already. Cassin is gone, returning to her vessel as spotlights crank on around her hull.
"Torpedo in the water, starboard side!" a watchman shouts.
I jerk my head, but all I can see is the form of Leviathan, standing on the bridge wing where only moments ago there was nothing. The ship
careens in the water, turning sharply to Starboard. My hand stabs out, grabbing onto the windowsill for balance as we turn. Then, I see it, a white streak churning through the water, passing by our hull by a mere dozen yards. Men shout, tumbling on the gundeck from the sudden yanking turn. But it's better than a hit by a torpedo to the bow.
Another flash from further ahead in the column, and another ship is illuminated, one I cannot immediately recognize in the chaos. Then the guns on the Cassin open up, firing to starboard, flares launching on parachutes as she
pummels the water five hundred yards to starboard. There, illuminated by the tracers and slowly coming into the light of her flares I can see the form of a submarine sailing parallel to the formation, diving down into the water as fast as she can go.
"Admiral, orders?" Leviathan asks, the shipgirl turning her head towards me.
…
—
So it begins. The situation is as follows, it is early night, and the Leviathan is in a warship convoy heading north. There are no reinforcements nearby. The convoy numbers roughly fifty vessels, and she is the only carrier present. They are under attack by an unknown number of submarines, she is currently sailing into the wind and cannot launch her planes, to do so she will need to leave the convoy, but can take Cassin with her. Or, she can remain in the convoy, trusting on the vessels around her for protection.
[] [Send up the Planes]
Turn into the wind, load the depth charges. The ship will be leaving the convoy, however briefly. But the planes will be an asset for spotting, and hunting the submarines.
[] [Keep with the Convoy]
Evasive maneuvers, stick with the group. Let the destroyers do their work.
