Apologies for the delay everyone, but here we are! And a double feature too! The proper chapter, here, and a French omake to go with it.
First though, I now have
this as well. For all your naval history needs!
Now, the chapter:
Chapter 25
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of construction had become quite familiar to Saratoga, as had the feeling of welding and riveting throughout her hull. An itch she couldn't scratch. The occasional
jab to parts of her body. She had never really noticed it before. Not in her older refits, where she had just...gone to sleep and woken up again when the refit was complete.
But she
couldn't just sleep. Not now.
I...
Letting a sigh escape her lips, the old carrier shook her head. She was like a lovesick schoolgirl...
Well, she
assumed that anyway. She wouldn't know really, now would she?
"I miss him already," Sara's hand rose from her side, coming to rest against her chest. The
thump of her heart comforted her. Reminded her she was
alive...and more than just a pile of steel. Sometimes she needed that. Like...like she needed the reassurance of her Admiral. "Listen to me. He's gone for a week and I already..."
Shaking her head again, Sara clenched her fist in her uniform. The white fabric, red ribbon laying over it, was rough against her hand. But again, it was still
feeling. That was more than she could have said, as short as a year ago. A year ago, she was just...existing. Going along with the whims of her crew, a silent observer. She spent most of her time just standing atop her island, looking at the waves and clouds pass her by. Watching her aircrew take to the air and learn to fly.
Sara had been
proud of them. They were the best in the world, and it was her and Lex who had created that force. Why
shouldn't she have been proud?
But for all that pride, she couldn't forget. She was invisible, silent, and completely unnoticed. Not one person had ever noticed her, not that she had made any real
effort to be noticed. There hadn't been much of a need. No one could hear her, trying to talk was a waste of time. And...and...a sigh rushed up again. If Sara was being brutally honest, she had never
cared enough. She had not been
attached enough to anyone to try.
And now that she
was, losing him was all the more painful.
"This is silly. It's all so
silly. Mama Langley would..." The bluenette grimaced, her hand clenching tighter in her uniform. Mama...she could really use talking with her mother right about now. Langley would know just what to say, she
knew that.
Her Mother was in the Philippines though.
Finally letting her hand drop, Sara felt an itch in her eye. A wetness...
A
tear.
"We need each other, don't we?"
Hand shaking as she raised it to wipe away the tear, she let out a shaky laugh. The comforting beat of her heart was
painful now, when Sara looked out at the men swarming upon her deck. They weren't her crew. They weren't
special to her. She wasn't special to
them either, was she? Sara wasn't the pride of the navy, not anymore. She was another old ship they were fixing up.
'They only don't care because they don't know you
. How wonderful you are.'
She could hear her Admiral saying that, if she brought up that feeling. It was enough to bring a small smile to the old carrier's face at the thought. He didn't realize how wonderful
he was, just being there. She had no one else to talk to, not before and not now. Was it any
wonder she missed him? No, it wasn't. And that was why Sara found herself so very...melancholy.
"Hey! Put your backs into it down there!"
Sara sighed softly, looking down on the man who had shouted that. She didn't know his name. But he was the one in charge of the work crews swarming her hull, and at least was
respectful of her. More than she could say about many people who had walked her halls over the years. It might have helped that the rather...
substantial...refit she was undergoing made more money for him and those who worked under him.
Regardless, at least he wasn't treating her like a pile of steel.
"Come on boss, it's not like the Japs are going to attack or anything," one of the other workers groaned.
That man was rubbing his back after setting down a toolbox, looking distinctly put-out by his job. "'sides, this old girl isn't anything special now. Just really big."
I...
"Jenkins, if you complain one more time, I'm taking you off shift," the 'boss' shot back. His eyes narrowed at the younger man, his hand flung out to gesture at the long hull they stood on. "I will not be the one responsible for failing our job. Especially not on Sister Sara."
"Why?"
That question was asked by both 'Jenkins' and Sara herself. Of course, only one of them was heard. And only one of them would be answered.
"Because my son is a fly-boy off her." The boss replied harshly, pointing at the deck beneath his feet. His eyes narrowed at the other worker, "And I don't want him getting in trouble out there because we slacked off. 'sides, these ships are our
job.
We keep them running. So don't even think about slacking off."
Grumbles answered that, but the other men got back to their work. And Sara watched them go, heart stopped. At least, until she shook her head, feeling a flush cross her pale face.
Why not?
Because she hadn't expected to hear
that from some dockyard worker. He clearly had no idea what they were, but he didn't care either. Hunk of steel she may have been to these men, but some of them really
did care about her. They wanted the best for her. The old 'Queen of the Seas'. It had been a long time since anyone had sung that song on her decks...
But it reminded her of one thing.
Even if they can't see me, some of these men...they still want the best for me.
Maybe it was just their jobs. Maybe it wasn't because it was
her, outside a few cases. But the point remained that other people
did care about her and the other girls.
"Admiral...is this what you meant?" Sara whispered, clutching at her chest again. A small smile crossed her face, despite the aches and pains in her body. Her bright green eyes were wet, when she looked up at the clear blue sky above her. "You said that you wouldn't be the only one who cared about me. That Captain Halsey isn't the only one for Little E."
Sara's smile didn't fade, when she shut her eyes. She could imagine Admiral Thompson's smiling face by her side, the Admiral embarrassingly scratching the back of his head like he always did.
'Well, I may be the only one right now, but it won't always be like that Sara.'
'It won't?'
'Not at all! If I've learned anything, it's that you girls won't stop at anything. If you want to be heard, you'll be heard. And...' The Admiral had sighed, shaking his head bemusedly. He placed a hand on Sara's shoulder, squeezing gently. 'I've been in the Navy long enough to know how much sailors care for their ships. Someone else will get through to you, eventually.'
Opening her eyes, Sara reached her free hand up to wipe at them. Her hand came away wet again...but they were
happy tears now. Yes, her Admiral was gone. But his
words remained. She believed in what he said, that one day, others could care about her.
But...
Not like
he did. What
they had was special. And she cherished it...so
very much.
"I'll be ready when you come back Admiral," Sara whispered, making a silent promise to herself. A promise that... "I'll be the best I can be when you return. And I will
never let you down!"
"I really hope I don't let them all down..."
Admiral Thompson resisted the urge to wince, when the car he rode in went over a pothole. The novelty of riding in a classic car had
very quickly faded. Now, he just wanted it to be over with...while also wanting to
not reach his destination.
That he was alone in the back of this car at least meant he could suitably worry without having Admiral Richardson sending him odd looks.
And worry he did.
This is...something I have no idea how to do. Convincing Richardson and Halsey...hell, Little E did most of the work with Halsey. Richardson got lucky with Utah. I have no idea
how I'm going to convince the President
!
Sighing, Thompson tapped his foot against the floor of the old car. The rattle of the antique engine more than disguised the noise, not that the
much lower ranked man driving the thing would have commented
had he noticed. The Admiral knew that much, both from the here and now and from his own time. Ratings didn't comment on what Admiral's did unless directly asked.
Well, not when the Admiral could
hear anyway.
"Sara..." Thompson sighed again, his green eyes trailing to the briefcase by his side. So much of his evidence and arguments depended on her. They had spent long nights, hunched over his table, trying to put something together.
He owed that woman more than she would ever know. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't be
half as prepared for all of this as he was.
A small smile crossed his face at the thought, Thompson shaking his head, "Who am I kidding...if it weren't for her I'd have gone crazy by now."
Ignoring a particularly
sudden jerk of the car, the young Admiral reflected on that statement. The funny thing was, he
knew that wasn't even a joke. Oh sure it may have been phrased as such. But just as the times he'd talked to Sara...that wasn't the case. It wasn't a joke. If it were not for Saratoga, he may well have cracked under the pressure. He was one man, trying to save millions of lives. Trying to forge the United States Navy of 1945, in 1941. And were he trying that alone?
Well, Thompson was not so egotistical to think he would have been capable of that.
Sometimes, in the week since he had left her, he wondered how Sara was fairing without him. She didn't have anyone else to talk to but Ari, he knew that. Just like...well, just like
he didn't have anyone to talk to.
Richardson was a good confidant, a smart man.
But Thompson could hardly go telling him the real truth. Or talking about his worries for the future. Only Sara could talk with him about that...and she was all the way across the country.
I wonder when we started to rely on each other so much?
Shaking his head, Thompson pulled his briefcase into his lap. Thinking about how much he missed his closest friend wasn't going to do much good, if he never actually
saw her again. And if he wanted any chance of that...
He
had to do the next bit of his job perfectly.
One misstep, and he may never see anything but the walls of a mental institution ever again. And wouldn't
that be a
fine capstone on his career?
"Admiral, we've arrived."
Broken from his brooding, Thompson looked up at the rating in front of him. The much younger man had turned his head, a confused expression on it. One that became quite apparent, when the Admiral realized
why there had been a sudden jerk. Because they had arrived at their destination...the current headquarters of the CNO, at least until the Pentagon was complete.
He hadn't even realized they had arrived.
Not a good start, was it?
"I see we have," Thompson covered his inattention with a light cough, nodding at the younger man. He put a small smile on his face as well, doing his best
not to think about what awaited him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir." The other man still looked quite confused, but again...do not comment on the Admiral's actions.
Though the rumors were probably going to spread.
Lovely.
"Carry on then."
With one final nod, Thompson pulled his cover down and stepped out of the staff car. The glare of a midday sun greeted him, pounding down on the man despite the time of year. Though bright as it may have been, it didn't change that fact. Because the Admiral felt a chill when he exited the vehicle. Both because of the winter winds...and because of what he was going to do.
At least he could see Admiral Richardson awaiting him, having arrived sooner than he himself had. The older man was bundled up in a thick coat, but his
face remained clear. In fact, he sent the younger man a disappointed look...probably for his late arrival. His hard-featured face made the expression even
harsher than it might otherwise have been.
Funny, Halsey couldn't do the same!
"Sorry for the delay, Admiral," Thompson hid a wince when he saw the flinty eyes behind Richardson's glasses.
"Come on," Richardson didn't comment on the apology either. He merely nodded at the door behind the two officers, held open by two young MPs. "Admiral Stark is in a meeting, at the moment. That will not last long." Not giving Thompson a chance to reply, the elder officer strode through the open door and into the long halls of the headquarters, the other Admiral following his superior into the breach...so to speak.
Secretaries typed away on old typewriters all around the two men upon entering the building, running official dispatches back and forth. Younger officers dashed from room to room. Only a relative few of the various workers even acknowledged the officers, a sign of just how
focused they were.
After all, even here, two Admirals-
most certainly the CinCUS -coming into the building couldn't be common.
But...the point remained. And for Thompson, it was a very
new and surreal experience. More and more, whenever he was off Sara, he felt like he was walking through a period movie. The workers surrounding him felt like something out of an old sitcom or movie that his grandparents would have watched. But he was
living it. It was an...decidedly odd experience. To say the least.
"Sir, do we know how long the meeting will last?" Thompson spoke up softly, careful to not disturb the workers around them.
He rather liked
not having all the attention.
Richardson didn't so much as break stride when he shook his head, "No."
"Well then..." Sighing softly, Thompson could only frown. On the one hand, he'd have time to talk to Richardson before the meeting began. On the
other hand...well, more time to worry over it.
Nothing for it though.
"I'd like to talk things over before we meet Admiral Stark then," the younger Admiral quietly added. His eyes roamed over the workers surrounding the pair of men, wincing slightly at the attention. "Preferably somewhere without everyone watching us."
He may have been imagining things, but Thompson could have
sworn he saw Richardson's lips twitch upward, "Indeed."
The elder man didn't say anything else, as he switched trajectories, moving towards a side-office. Thompson was all too happy to follow Richardson in that regard, as he had
no idea where he was going. The Pentagon hadn't even begun construction yet...the time-traveler was understandably not familiar with it's predecessor. He shouldn't have been.
Did force him to follow Richardson around like a lost puppy though. Which had to be doing
wonder for his image.
Still, he had no problems with it, as the elder man lead him into the office, and towards a long table. Clearly a proper meeting room, it was completely empty at the moment. Which suited Thompson just fine, the Admiral setting his briefcase down on the table and taking a seat across from his superior. Richardson merely laced his fingers together, raising his eyebrow at the younger officer.
"What do you want to talk about, Admiral Thompson?" Richardson asked calmly, not a hint of worry in his features.
"..." Thompson wished he could feel like that. Sighing softly, he shook his head and just plowed ahead at full speed, "I wonder how you're so
calm about this, sir. If I can speak freely...I'm not."
Richardson's lips
did move to a small, barely noticeable, smile this time. His square and rugged features didn't lend themselves well
to the smile, but it was there.
"If you think I am not worried, you're wrong, son." Richardson shook his head, clear bemusement present. "No, I imagine I'm as worried as you are. This is far from a standard meeting."
Not able to help it, Thompson snorted, "No, it isn't. I'd say this stopped being standard the moment Sara talked to me."
Or, rather, the moment he came back in time. But no need for Richardson to know that. Not now, maybe not
ever.
"I imagine." The elder Admiral's lips twitched further upwards, if only for a second. But only for a second, before a frown overtook his features. A frown directed at the door the two had entered from. More importantly...at... "Admiral Stark, on the other hand, may not believe it so easily. He is not an easy man to convince."
Thompson could only sigh. He really...he didn't
know enough about Admiral Stark. He was familiar enough with the big names. Nimitz. Spruance. Fletcher. Halsey. Even Richardson. But Stark? No, he couldn't say what to expect with the man. Would he believe them? Or would they be laughed out without so much as a chance to argue? Who knew.
He didn't.
But he also knew there wasn't a choice. If they wanted to get to President Roosevelt, they needed to go through Admiral Stark first and foremost. The CNO could get them to the Secretary of the Navy, and from there, to the President. And if the goal was to convince the high-command that the girls were
real, they needed to convince the President himself.
It wouldn't matter if the whole damn Navy saw them, if the President didn't believe them. Especially
this President.
Roosevelt had more power than any other President that Thompson could think of, off the top of his head.
"I figured as much," Thompson shook his head, looking down at his lap. Another sigh escaped his lips, when he turned an eye back up at Richardson, "But what choice do we really have, sir? If we can't convince him, we'll be..."
"Retired. Perhaps sent to Pennhurst." Richardson spoke with complete flatness, utterly unbefitting the situation. In fact, his expression didn't even change.
"...you're so calm about this."
Richardson just shook his head, "Again, no. Admiral Thompson, this is the most serious situation that either of us have ever been in. The Navy took a lot of risk promoting someone so young to your rank, yes, but that is nothing on this. We are going to argue a revelation that throws everything we know on it's head." The older Admiral frowned, tapping the table idly with one of his fingers. "Religion, society, our very
existence is in question, with the knowledge that the
ships we build have souls. Every bit as human as our own."
This was...something Thompson knew very well.
'Ship girls?'
'Nonsense, there must be some sort of explanation. Logic and science...'
'It's all magic, dess!'
'She is right...'
Shaking his head, Thompson forced those memories- especially the voice of a certain Japanese fast battleship -back from his mind. Thinking on those days...right. The point remained though, he
knew what would happen. He had
seen it happen. Religious figures would adapt, outside the fringe extremists. Scientists would pound their heads in the proverbial brick walls. And politicians would start raising a fuss over the rights of the girls.
It had all happened before.
But...
It's different this time, isn't it? They're very clearly spirits
this time. And the hulls have them. And it's the '40s.
Frowning, the young Admiral tapped his own finger on his briefcase, "I know that, sir. But...we just don't have a choice. I won't let Sara just be ignored, and I know Bu...Admiral Halsey feels the same about Enterprise."
"You will have no argument from me," Richardson shrugged, ever so slightly. The older man looked Thompson straight in the eye, his flinty eyes staring into the younger Admiral's green. "In fact, I agree with you. It is only a matter of time until all the ships in our fleet begin talking with their crews. Not just their Captains or Admirals or Engineering officers. The
entire crews. It is far better..."
"That we get it out of the way now." Thompson finished.
His superior officer nodded, "Indeed. Now..."
Before the CinCUS could do more than open his mouth, the pair of Admirals were interrupted. And not just interrupted by anyone. Because while Thompson couldn't tell the man's
personality from any other Admiral...
He at least knew enough to know Admiral Harold Stark on sight. The man next to him was rather more familiar...Ernst King was one of the single most influential and famous figures in the United States Navy, after all.
And both men were standing in the doorway, the former lowering his hand from a polite cough.
"Our ships talking with their crews, you say?" Stark's voice was incredulous, as was his raised eyebrow.
And all Thompson could do was blink and curse his luck.
Shit...
