Speaking of updates...
Chapter 28
"Why would you want to know more about
me? Don't you want to know about the future?"
Admiral Thompson couldn't help the frown that crossed his face. The cool wind that blew over the tall island of
Saratoga as the old carrier sailed towards her destination at Bremerton did little to distract him. After all, like it usually was, all his attention was focused on the woman standing in front of him. Long blue hair blowing back in the cold breeze, Sara was...just smiling at him.
In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say there was...
something...behind those bright green eyes of her's. Something he couldn't quite read, when she asked that question of him.
"I'm curious, Admiral," Sara's voice was soft as ever when she replied, her feet shuffling slightly. The carrier blew the black strand of hair over her eye back, but never once let her eyes move from his face. "You haven't told me a lot about what things were like for
you. I don't want to know more about the future right now."
"Sara..." Thompson could only cough to try to hide the slight flush on his cheeks when he registered the words.
She wants to know about me
more than the future?
"Is that so surprising? After all, you
do mean a lot to me, sir."
Evidently, that was a yes. The carrier had moved from her post standing next to the bridge, and instead leaned against the railing beside the Admiral. The wind set the red ribbon upon her chest fluttering, but she didn't try to stop it. Sara just reached one of her hands out, gently taking the Admiral's hand in her own. A soft squeeze served to break Thompson from his stupor, making the man stare at her in clear confusion.
Confusion maybe, but it didn't keep a smile of his own from overtaking the frown he had previously worn.
"I see. Well," Thompson returned Sara's action, squeezing
her hand just as softly. "I guess I can talk about myself. What do you want to know?"
Sara's smile brightened at both the gesture and the words, "Anything you want to talk about."
"Come now Sara, you need to give me a bit more than that."
It was her turn to flush this time, Sara looking away for the first time.
"Well...what about your family? You told me that your father wants you to get married?"
A groan came from the Admiral, Thompson shaking his head bemusedly. Oh that old topic...why did she have to bring
that one up again? He wasn't particularly happy about his 'father' to begin with. But...
If
Sara asked, he wouldn't say no to her. It may be an uncomfortable topic, but then, he was fine talking about it with
her. There were a lot of things he wouldn't ever talk about with anyone else, that he was perfectly fine talking about with the carrier by his side. Even if Sara couldn't quite meet his eyes when she asked the question, it didn't matter. He trusted her with his life.
A bit of embarrassment was hardly an issue in this case.
"If I didn't know better, I would say you're curious about that for a different reason, Sara." The young man sighed, reaching his free hand up to scratch his forehead.
Missing the way the carrier beside him stiffened, if only slightly.
"But since you asked, I...don't really know what
to say about my family." Thompson looked down at where their hands joined, squeezing Sara's limb once more. It was comforting...very comforting. "I mean, 'dad' is someone I never even knew. I wasn't born while he was still alive, so I...well." Shaking his head, the Admiral sighed again. "I wish I had a better answer."
"No, I shouldn't have asked that question." Sara shook her own head, turning her blushing face back to the man beside her. "I just wanted.."
Her voice trailed off, the carrier refusing to turn her eyes away. Her grip tightened, even as waves brushed against her bow, far below both of them.
"I..."
Thompson didn't say anything to that. He just reached his free hand out, gently resting it atop Sara's blue hair. Slowly, softly, he mused her hair. Unsurprisingly, to him, Sara almost immediately calmed down, leaning into his touch. With a small smile flitting across her face.
Worked like a charm, always had.
"Don't worry about that, Sara. You were just curious. And you know?" The Admiral didn't remove his hand, letting Sara lean against his side as he continued speaking. The warmth of her body...the softness of her chest pushing against his arm...did little to slow him down. "I think I can talk about what my family was like, back where I came from."
Sara didn't reply, seemingly content to just lean against his side.
I sometimes wonder about her...
Smile widening, Thompson just continued talking, "I was an only child growing up, back in the future. My parents loved me the same as if I
had any siblings...though I sometimes wondered if they wanted more children. I know they always wanted me to have friends over, but when I was growing up I didn't quite realize why. Don't think I really figured it out until I left for the Navy..."
A small shake of his shoulders was the only emotion the Admiral allowed himself to show to his friend. Even now.
Funny...it wasn't the first time he had told this story, to this woman. But then...
This wasn't the Sara he had known.
"They thought I was lonely." Thompson looked down on Sara, bright green eyes meeting his own. The carrier was silent, but there was a sheen in her eyes. Much as things changed... "I don't know if you noticed, but I don't...
talk a lot. At least, not about myself. I wouldn't say I was lonely growing up. My parents loved me, and I had friends, after all. But..."
His own grip tightened on Sara this time.
"I
do know that it wasn't easy sometimes. The Navy was the first time I really felt like I had any siblings. We're all brothers and sisters in the service, after all."
A finger slowly raised up, to rest on his chest.
"Admiral, is that why you are so attached to us all?" Sara asked softly, her finger joined by the rest of her hand. Resting atop his heart. "Because of...?"
Thompson laughed softly at that question. The confusion on Sara's face just made his smile widen, actually. The exact same question...
"No, actually, it isn't. Besides, I thought this was about me, not you all?"
If Sara recognized what he was doing, she didn't say anything. Her hand refused to leave where it lay though.
He wouldn't say anything about that. Couldn't.
"I did find a lot of friends when I joined the service though. There were a lot of people who liked the same things I did, which was quite different from back home." Thompson continued, an almost wistful tone entering his voice. "For example, did you know that there were a lot of people in my class who liked football? I hadn't met many back home."
"Football?" Sara blinked, looking up at the Admiral with clear confusion in her eyes. The sound of men readying her for the incoming docking barely even registered on the carrier or her Admiral.
"Well, soccer, I suppose." Thompson coughed, his face reddening again. "I
also met a lot of people who had family from other countries. Spent most of my time in other countries too."
If anything, the confusion on the carrier's face grew at that. Thompson couldn't help a hint of amusement at the expression, even as he pulled her along when he walked to a different part of the deck. Sara's grip refused to leave his arm, buried in her...stacks. Yes. That.
But her grip was hardly painful or anything like that, as they walked along the railing outside the bridge.
"I can still remember joining a team back then, just for the hell of it. I was never very
good at the thing but it was fun." Thompson's voice was
definitely wistful now. It had been a
long time since he had taken to the field. Too long. "Lord knows I made more mistakes than anyone, but they sill let me stay on the team. I loved playing around with everyone. Made me feel like a kid again."
"Do you think that we could play sometime, then?" Sara asked, her own voice filled with determination. "I want to try it!"
The unusual energy in her expression had Thompson blinking, even as his face twisted into a full grin, "Oh, you want to try football?"
"Yes. If you like it so much, it
has to be fun!" Sara
finally removed her hand from his chest, if only to cross the one free arm over her
own chest. "We can make a team with the other girls, right?"
"You must want me to get slaughtered out there then," Thompson laughed, a bit of weight falling off his shoulders. Oh he could already imagine how
that game would go. "I mean, I'm only human. You lot are faster and stronger than I ever could be."
Sara giggled softly herself, her entire body relaxing against his side. Whatever tension had been in her lithe form fell away like the crest of waves over her bow, vanishing in the wind. "I would never let you lose sir. We'd be on the same team, clearly. You
are my Admiral."
"Well who would be on the other team then? Halsey and Enterprise?"
Even as he said that, the Admiral felt himself break down into helpless laughter. The image of little Enterprise trying to coax
Bull Halsey out onto a football field had him unable to control himself. Thompson could just
see the sour-faced Admiral complaining and grouching in that gruff tone of his. 'I'm too old for this' or 'couldn't you have at least picked a better sport?'
The image was enough to bring the first truly
genuine laughs he had in a long time up. Thompson knew that his crew had to be giving him strange looks, but he just couldn't care. Even the sound of tugs coming out to meet Sara hardly registered on him. Because he just couldn't get the image of Halsey being browbeaten by puppy-dog eyes from
Enterprise into playing soccer.
It would almost be worth trying to tug in the other Admirals, just for the hell of it.
Even if he was the only one young enough to actually play well.
Details, details.
"Oh lord, I needed that." Thompson finally got out, unconsciously holding Sara to his side. "Thanks for that, Sara."
"No need to thank me sir, I was just being honest." The carrier smiled up at him, allowing his grip without complaint.
"Still, thank you." Smiling himself, the Admiral looked out at the water surrounding the warship he was aboard. "It's good to have something to look forward to, once the war is over."
Sara squeezed his arm against her chest, "And I'm holding you to actually doing it."
"Wouldn't imagine otherwise."
Holding Sara to his side, the Admiral felt at ease for the first time in a long while. Maybe he
did just need to think about something that didn't have to do with the war for once. Something for fun and enjoyment, not something about fighting. He may not have the old friends he played games with...
But he had new ones, didn't he?
"Well, Sara, to go back to what you were asking before..." Thompson continued softly, the happiness lodged firmly in his chest when he looked at her pretty face and bright green eyes. "I remember the first time I brought a girl home too...my parents were so supportive, I don't know if I can ever forget what they said then."
"Admiral?"
"That no matter what happened, they would always be there for me." The young man replied, smile directed explicitly at Sara. Nothing else. "I would like to think my family now is the same."
And if he tightened his grip on her a bit...well...
Neither of them would comment on it.
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Bleary green eyes slowly opening, Admiral Thompson sighed softly. The memory was still fresh in his mind as the day it had happened, when he rolled over in his hard bed. The misadventures the previous few days had tired him out more than he would like to admit, and it hadn't taken very long to fall asleep...and back into the memories of his time back in the Pacific.
Times like this...
He truly, honestly, missed the simpler days. Talking with Sara over things, without having to worry about the politics of dealing with the higher-ranking Admirals in Washington. So much calmer...
Nothing for it though, like the fact he was woken up by a phone ringing by his bedstand.
Unable to hold back a groan of frustration, Thompson rolled
out of the bed, and picked up the hefty old phone. "Thompson speaking."
"Richardson." The voice on the other end replied, sounding completely unruffled as usual.
How the man did it was a mystery. "
I received a call from Harry. We're good to go."
"Well," Thompson let out a relieved sigh, a small smile working its way across his face. Sure, he was tired, but if all the work had worked... "Do we know when? And if the President is coming?"
"No, to the latter. The Secretary wants to confirm everything before bringing this to the top." Richardson's voice
did take on a dry tone when he said that, likely complete with his typical scowl as well. "
As to the former...there has been a change of plans."
Thompson felt a chill run down his back, the smile fading as quickly as it had come. "What?"
"New York is not our target."
Not...
If not New York, then
who? Skipjack wouldn't work twice, for fairly obvious reasons. Assuming that King didn't try to murder her if he
did see her. It had taken a lot of fast talking to convince the man that he had just misplaced his wallet.
And even
more to convince the sub to give it back up.
Some things never change, and American subs being little thieves is one of them.
Despite the small bit of humor that brought up, Thompson still wracked his brain to try and figure out what the new option was. New York was out. Texas then? Or Ranger?
"Thompson?" Richardson's impatient tone brought the younger man up short.
"Sorry, sorry," the time-traveler replied, holding the antique phone close to his ear. Sucking in a breath, he continued, "If it isn't New York, who are we going to?"
There wasn't an immediate reply, putting Thompson even further on edge.
If it were a cell-phone, he would probably be pacing. But it wasn't.
And he was stuck by the wall, waiting for the other man to...
"Hood. We're going to Hood."
And just like that, Thompson felt his heart stop. Ho...
HMS Hood? She wasn't supposed to be anywhere near America, not now. Hell, it was only a short couple of months until she...sank...
Wait.
Things in Europe were
already different. France had fallen on a different date than they were supposed to. Taranto had happened earlier than it should. How much had changed over there? And why? It wasn't anything he had done, that was for damn sure. He had been in the Pacific this entire damn time! And yet...things were changing.
More than they should.
"I..." shaking his head, trying to force worries under a calm facade, the young Admiral turned back to his conversation. "How? I can't imagine the British would just let a bunch of American Admirals poke around their flagship."
A short laugh barked over the phone line,
"Of course not. The Secretary may not have told the President the purpose of our little visit, but he did ask if it was possible. The President pulled strings and convinced the British to let a few of us aboard as advisers to her refit."
Roosevelt was more persuasive than Thompson had thought...
"So far as Harry told me, this is because the Secretary wants to know if what we're seeing is limited to American ships." Richardson continued, not letting the younger Admiral have a chance to reply. "
I am curious myself. Is this limited to our ships?"
Thompson bit his tongue, forcing himself not to reply.
It sure as hell wasn't limited to American ships. But he couldn't...tell anyone. It was hard enough convincing people that he was telling the truth about the ships having spirits in the first place. Bringing in that he was from the future...would cause more harm than good.
And part of him...
Wanted to know just what had happened to Hood.
"We're nearly there now, sir."
Captain Todd Harrington nodded absently, looking out at the approaching dockyards.
Hood's battered bow sliced through the waves in front of her just as well as it ever had, even as her strained turbines barely kept her going at a stately fifteen knots. The old greyhound was a cripple, and had been the entire trip across the Atlantic.
An American battleship could run her down, in the shape she was in at this moment.
But that's why we're in
American waters. The Yanks better keep their word.
Harrington clenched a fist by his side, unable to hide the frustration implicit in the movement. He was worried. He was frustrated. And it was all because of the
helplessness he felt. He was taking the Pride of the Royal Navy into American hands. Should he
not feel helpless?
"What I want to know," Commander Patterson spoke up beside the Captain, a hint of frustration in
his voice. "Is why the Yanks get to stick their Admirals on
Hood."
"Politics." Harrington dryly replied, tilting his head enough to look at the younger man out of the corner of his eyes. Patterson was a tightly coiled spring of nervous energy, practically vibrating in his effort to stay still. "The Yanks want to show they're helping us, so they'll put 'experts' aboard to figure out how they're going to refit the old girl."
"And those experts couldn't be dockhands?"
The Captain snorted softly, "We both know this has nothing to do with their Admirals being experts on ship refits. This is a political move, to show support or something along those lines."
Sighing, Harrington shook his head, returning his gaze out to Norfolk. His eyes trailed across the construction clearly visible in the port, the Americans building up their Navy Yard to new and greater heights.
"And the PM agreed to it, so we don't have much choice."
Patterson grumbled at that, shaking his own head with clear annoyance, "Maybe, doesn't mean I have to like it though. I don't like taking
Hood to the Yanks to begin with."
That was an opinion that the younger man had made
very clear at
numerous points. Harrington had learned to not comment on it, because quite honestly, he understood it. Bloody hell, he doubted a single member of
Hood's crew particularly wanted to have the Yanks poking around inside her. But they didn't have any choice. There just
wasn't a way to refit her back home, without taking up dockyards desperately needed to keep the rest of the Navy kicking.
Bloody war...
"Don't have a choice," Harrington sighed softly. His hand came down to rest on the railing in front of him, the old metal loose in his grip. That
Hood's bridge was even fit for use was a miracle, after the beating she took. "The Yanks are the only ones that can refit her now. And we
need Hood back on the line, if that Jerry battleship decides to come out and play."
Both men winced at that thought. Sinking
Gneisenau and capturing Günther had been a coup of the highest order, even if the damage to
Hood had been severe. The Germans had been down to one battlecruiser and a couple old battleships, antiques even compared to the old
Queen Elizabeths. But that new monster that intel swore was nearly ready...
Bismarck.
Hood was the
only ship in the entire damn Royal Navy that could hope to match that monster.
And she wasn't in any condition to fight a
barge right now.
I can understand why we need the Yanks, even if we don't like it.
Sighing once more, Harrington turned to look fully at his XO. The man knew
Hood far better than he ever could, and that wouldn't likely change. As such...
"Tell me. Do you honestly think we could get
Hood back in action in time to matter against
Bismarck before she sorties?" The Captain asked his subordinate, raising a single black eyebrow in question.
"No." Patterson replied shortly, with an annoyed growl despite the fact he was talking to his nominal superior.
Both men were not
that far apart in age, and neither of them stood on formalities like that when it was just the two of them. Harrington was the hero, Patterson was the one who kept
Hood afloat after the battle. There was no reason to stand on formality when alone.
"And as much as I hate to admit it, it would take
years to get her back in action back home." Patterson continued, his own brown eyes looking out the bridge windows, and down on the charred planking that made up the Mighty
Hood's decking. His fists clenched by his side, resisting an urge to slam into something. "If we ever did, with those new battleships working up. So yes, we need the Yanks to do it."
And there was the crux of the issue, wasn't it?
"Exactly. And if they want to stick some Admirals on
Hood," Harrington shrugged, knowing that arguing that point would be...well, pointless. "There's not really much we can do about it. Just make sure..."
"They don't poke around where they shouldn't." Patterson finished, the barest hint of a smirk crossing his lips. "Yes
sir."
The two officers shared a short laugh at that, as
Hood slowly pulled into the dock that would likely be her home for the next few months...
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...neither of them noticing the woman standing behind them, staring out past
her officers.
"Bloody hell, Yank
Admirals." HMS
Hood grumbled, a soft hand gently rubbing at the gauze covering her forehead. Wincing a bit when she applied too much pressure, the old battlecruiser found herself wishing she could talk to
her Captain. "Captain, you had
better know what you're doing!"
Granted, she had wanted to talk to him for other reasons. His insistence in writing letters to that Günther person still worried her. Captain Harrington had been nothing but a model officer, but after everything that happened in this war...
Hood didn't quite trust the Germans.
"I don't want to see them poke around, and I don't want to see
you talking with a German." Hood continued to mutter to herself, her short skirt rustling against her legs as she paced behind her oblivious officers. Lord knew she had
tried to talk to them, but nothing had ever worked. "I miss when things were simpler."
Sighing, Hood turned to walk out of the bridge. Wasn't much point in ranting at her officers, when they couldn't possibly
hear her. Besides, everything
hurt when she did. So she just walked right out of the bridge, down the railing, and out onto her battered deck. Hood ducked around her crew, the men starting to crowd her railing to look out at the American city.
Those that weren't on duty, anyway.
"Hey, Alan, you ever been to America?" One of them excitedly bumped his shoulder against another man. The one who spoke was
young, barely an adult.
His apparent friend was a much more grizzled man, idly scratching at a probably non-regulation beard. "Once, back aboard
Iron Duke. Don't remember there being this much."
"Well, even the Yanks are building up for the war, aren't they?"
A grunt was the only answer, even as Hood moved past the members of her crew. She felt a tightening in her chest at their words, unable to stop herself as a tear rolled down her cheek. The Yanks were preparing for the War?
Why couldn't they have been in it
already? Maybe then she wouldn't have had to fire on her friends, back in Africa.
"Damnit all, I
hate this." Hood absently kicked a piece of broken wood on her deck, her foot sending it flying. No one noticed, of course. They never did. But if felt good, anyway.
Sometimes, she just needed to release stress
somehow.
"If the Yanks want to help so much, then they'd get off their
bloody arses and do it." The battlecruiser crossed her arms over her modest bust, ignoring the way it rustled her bandages. Instead, she just looked out at the harbor, a group of tugs gently moving out to push her into a temporary dock. Only a handful of American ships were actually around to greet her...
A battleship,
New York-class.
A few destroyers and a cruiser or two.
And a single submarine, that...
"What in the world...?" Hood felt her arms drop as quickly as they had risen, when she forced her aching legs to sprint her to the railing. She ignored the tugs pushing at her battered hull, an uncomfortable feeling.
She even ignored the fact she ran through a member of her crew, the man spinning around in complete and utter confusion at the sudden cold feeling.
Because there was a short red-haired girl, in a
scandalously cut swimsuit. Standing on the conning tower of the submarine, and staring
directly at her.
"Are you Hood?" A voice echoed in her ears, childish and soft. One that didn't sound accustomed to
talking to someone.
Or at least someone she wasn't familiar with. And it was
definitely a little girl's voice.
"Yes," Hood got out, feeling a lump in her throat. The
American accent was one she had never expected to hear...Repulse talking to her was a fluke. Right? "And you are?"
"USS Skipjack
," the voice replied, accompanied by a tiny wave from the distant girl on the submarine.
"Are you alright?"
"I..." shaking her head, the battlecruiser forced a smile on her face. She had someone else to talk to, after all. "Well enough, yes. Why do you ask? And how are you talking to me?"
Skipjack's voice sounded a bit wary when she replied,
"I can't tell you...it's supposed to be a surprise. But I just wanted to make sure you were okay...you look hurt."
Hood frowned, "I am, but..."
She trailed off, realizing that trying to get an answer out of the submarine would probably not work. But...
Just
why was it supposed to be a surprise?
The old battlecruiser honestly wondered what the answer to that would be, as the tugs gently guided her into dock. This was going to be an interesting time, here in America. Wasn't it?
Huh, they added a new threadmark system...
Anywho, update. I said I was going to do a flashback to flesh out our protag. a bit, and I did mean that. In point of fact, at several points throughout this arc, I fully intend to do more. Flesh him out, and give me a break from POLITICS YO. Just like the occasional Halsey and Little E bits are a breath of fresh air, at least for me.
At any rate, chapter up.
(Also, I chose Soccer because it feels less cliche than baseball or (American) football. Pretty much just that reason, I'm not a sports guy myself with my hilariously bad lungs)
