"I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast; for I intend to go into harm's way."
John Paul Jones
Naval Station Norfolk, Norfolk, Virginia, July 14, 2018
NS Norfolk was almost unrecognizable. The war had taken a heavy toll on the men, women, and ships stationed there. The once bustling base, was now almost empty. Only a handful of ships were berthed in the base, and the majority of those were damaged. For Lieutenant Commander Emily "Mack" Mackenzie, USNR, it was a sad sight to witness. Her first tour as an officer had been on a cruiser based in this very port. That ship had been lost some time ago, trying to combat an enemy that seemed almost insurmountable. She stood on the bridge wing, staring at what had become of the once proud base. Even the great aircraft carrier stood silent and empty. She knew that it was only allowed to venture a few miles off shore to intercept Abyssal attacks, and only occasionally. She took a deep breath, there was a time for morning what had been lost, and there was a time to do one's job, and this was a case of the second.
Mack was currently the executive officer, XO, of the littoral combat ship, USS Fort Worth (LCS-3), one of the few members of her class still afloat. They had been lucky, the Fort Worth had been restrained to a rear echelon position in order to serve a technology demonstrator. Light duty that kept the ship far from the Abyssals. Now they were home again, and the war's effects were painfully evident. Mackenzie was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't hear as someone joined her on the wing. "That sure is a sad sight." She whirled about to see Commander Sam Dover, the Fort Worth's captain.
"Sir, I don't know what to say," Mack replied.
"You'll say you're happy," Dover said, "You're going to your first command, Commander. That's a moment that you will never forget. Hell, I still remember when I received mine."
"But, sir, under the circumstances…" Mack began.
"Circumstances, hell, you've earned that command Mack, you did wonders to shape this ship up after everyone's morale took a nosedive," Dover cut her off, "And you deserve every bit of praise I heaped onto you in your last FITREP."
"I don't even know what it is yet, captain," Mack commented, "All I have are a set of transfer papers, and an order to report to the base commander here. It's probably some desk job in base HQ."
"Then you will make the best desk jockey on this base," Dover announced, "Seriously Mack, stop selling yourself short. It's annoying to have to keep building you back up." Mackenzie shot her captain a dirty look, and was met by the same jovial grin he displayed to everyone. "Look, commander, go to your quarters, and get your stuff packed. We'll pull in in ten minutes, and I want you to be the first one down the gangplank when we do. No sense being late to your first command."
"Aye sir," Mack replied, then turned to leave.
"And Mack," Dover said right as she was about to step into the bridge, "Give 'em hell."
"Yes sir," she replied, with a wry smile. The walk from the bridge to her stateroom wasn't a long one, the Fort Worth was a small ship after all. She had already packed her personal effects in her sea bag. All she had to do to get ready to leave, was to grab it and go, but there was one thing she had to do first. No matter how comfortable her utilities were, reporting aboard wearing what was, essentially, a work shirt, was not a very good way to make a first impression. Mack had left her summer white uniform laid out on her rack, all she had to do was change into it, and stow the NWUs.
Five minutes later, she was examining herself in the room's mirror, making absolutely certain that the uniform was perfect. She examined her frame in the mirror for several seconds. Mack had always been an average woman. Average height and average build, she certainly wouldn't turn any heads in a crowd. She reached up briefly to make sure that her hair was properly tied up, and then fixed a stray strand back into place. She always had that problem, her dark red hair never wanted to stay in place. She looked directly into her own, green eyes for several seconds, mentally asking herself if she was ready for this.
Ten minutes after that, the 1MC squawked with the news that the Fort Worth had been tied up to her pier. Mackenzie was the first one down the gangplank, as per the captain's orders. Norfolk is one of the largest facilities currently occupied by the US Navy. At its peak, it could handle dozens of ships, their support equipment, and their crews comfortably and efficiently. With the handful of ships taking advantage of these facilities, the base seemed abandoned. Instead of the usual bustle of yard workers and crewmen, the only people around was a gang of yard apes working to repair a very large hole in a Ticonderoga class cruiser. Mack thought that the scene almost looked spooky.
It took her several minutes to locate the main headquarters building. It had been many years since she had been on this base, and it was just as confusing now, as it had been back then. It took her a bit to find the red, brick building that housed the main headquarters for the base. She made her way inside and asked the yeoman on duty for directions to the office where she was supposed to go. She was a bit surprised to learn that when she found the office, that it belonged to the commanding admiral of NS Norfolk. She had to stand outside the door for several moments before she worked up the courage to knock.
A second later a curt, "Enter," could be heard through the door. Mackenzie marched in and stood at attention before the admiral.
"Lieutenant Commander Emily Mackenzie reporting to the admiral as order," she barked in her best parade field voice.
"At ease, please," Mackenzie looked down at the admiral. The admiral was an older woman, who barely was taller than her desk. Her silver hair was done up in a tight bun. She had a kind face, which contrasted greatly with the stars she wore on each shoulder board. The admiral didn't look anything like what Mackenzie thought a naval officer should look like, she looked like someone's grandmother. It became painfully obvious after a minute, that while Mack had been sizing that admiral up, she had been sizing Mack up.
"Commander," she began, breaking the tense silence that had formed, "I'm Admiral Simms, the CO of the naval station."
"Ma'am," Mackenzie replied, "Can you explain to me what my new duty assignment will be?"
"Actually I can't, I' not the one who assigned it to you," she said.
"With respect, ma'am, if you didn't, then who did?" Mackenzie asked, confused.
"That would be me, commander," said a new voice behind Mack. She turned about to see who was speaking, and almost fainted. She instantly recognized the face of the Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Mike Richards.
"Ad-admiral, sir," she stammered.
"At ease commander," he said, chuckling, "I'm not the mythical man the Navy makes me out to be."
"I don't know, sir, you're pretty mythical to me," Admiral Simms quipped, earning her a dirty look from Richards.
Richards turned back to Mack and said, "Commander Mackenzie, your orders come directly from the desk of the President, I chose you myself to be the OIC for this little outfit." Mack was stunned, orders from the President? The President? And the CNO picked her exclusively?
"Sir, with all due respect, why would you pick me? I'm nobody."
"You are a gifted commander with leadership scores well above your peers. You displayed great courage during the last attack, and you're up for command," Richards listed, counting off each point on his fingers, "Relax, commander, I'm not going to tell you to go lead a SEAL team, what I'm offering is a purely administrative command, ashore."
"Sir, what type of command would require the President's order, and the CNO's opinion?" Mack asked, regaining a bit of her courage.
"One that is secret," Richards replied, then turned to Simms, "Admiral, I assume that you've been read in on this?"
She looked up at the CNO and said, "What? You mean the thing with the… the thing we've got going out at Midway?"
"Yes, and it's good to see that our flag officers were briefed on this. It's nice to know that at least some of my orders are being carried out." Richards looked straight at Mack, causing an involuntary shiver to run up her spine. "I have a packet for you outlining the exact details of the command, but let me give you the cliff notes. What do you know about the ship girls?"
"Sir?" Mack said, confused by the sudden change in subject.
"It's a serious question, commander, what do you know about them?' Richards asked again.
"Sir, I've worked with the British girls before. We picked them up during their escort runs on occasion. What I learned from talking with them, is that they are the embodiments of the spirits who inhabited the hulls of their namesake warships."
"Good," Richards exclaimed, "That's one less thing I have to deal with. You are correct commander, the girls used to be ships. We called for them to return to fight once more, and they came back with two legs, two arms, and a lot of confusion."
"Sir, if I may ask, what does his have to do with me?" Mack asked, trying desperately to piece the scattered trail of information together.
"Commander, what would you think if I told you that we have our own ship girl program in place?" Richards asked.
"Sir, I wouldn't know what to think," Mack replied.
"Well, better start fixing that, because that is exactly what I'm telling you," Richards said, "We've been running our own ship girl program for the last few weeks now, to great success." He reached into a briefcase at his feet produced a folder. He passed it to Mack, explaining, "Here's a snapshot of the current group." Mack looked down at the photo inside the folder. It was, indeed, a picture of a group of girls, appearing to range in age from early teens to late twenties. They were all standing together, and smiling for the camera.
Richards pointed to a man standing at the center of the group, when Mack looked closer, the indicated figure stood out from the girls around him due main to the eyepatch he was wearing. "That's the current commander of our program. One Captain James Smith."
"Sir," Mack asked after handing the picture back to Richards, "What does all this mean?"
"What it means, commander, is that you are going to command the second ship girl base," Richards stated.
"What?" Mack exclaimed.
"Yes, you will lead the second base we're forming, right here in Norfolk," Richards continued, "The packet will have more pertinent info, and for any future reference, the term the Navy Department came up with for them is Fleet Auxiliary Personnel."
"Just a minute, sir," Admiral Simms spoke up, "Just when exactly were you planning on telling me that you would be creating a ship girl, sorry, fleet auxiliary detachment on my base?"
"I just did, didn't I?" Richards said.
"Sir, I need time for things like this, it will take time to get facilities ready, we need to allocate quarters, not to mention who will have to be reassigned to work on this, and the…" Simms said.
"Admiral, calm down," Richards cut her off, "It will be a few days before the fleet auxiliaries even get here, and even then, it will take a few weeks for Commander Mackenzie to get them up to speed. You have facilities for the British girls to use here, don't you?"
"Yes, sir, whenever they come in on a convoy run, we put them up in one of the old barracks buildings," Simms replied.
"Then start by turning over a barracks similar to that to Commander Makenzie for her use," Richards suggested. He pulled something else out of his briefcase and handed it to Mack. It was a very large, very thick manila envelope with the words, "Top Secret," liberally stamped across the font in large, red letters. Even the flap was sealed with the red and white striped security tape used for sensitive materials. "I don't need to tell you not to disclose the contents of that packet with anyone, do I?" Richards asked, "With the sole exception of Admiral Simms. You are allowed to read her in on any details you think are pertinent to the operation of your detachment, but nothing else. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Mack replied.
"Good, then if you have no further questions, I think that I will take my leave," Richards said, slamming his briefcase shut, "Good day, Admiral, and good luck, commander." Richards walked out the door and disappeared.
Simms waited a few minutes, then said, "I hope that was just as much of a bombshell for you as it was for me."
"Yes ma'am," Mack replied, a little breathlessly, "That was not where I was expecting this day to go."
Simms nodded, then pressed a button on her desk, "Yeoman, send for Chief Farnsworth please. Tell him to meet me in their barracks." Simms explained quickly, "Chief Farnsworth is our current liaison for the Royal Navy's Shipgirl Corps. If there's anyone on this base who could help bring you up to speed, it's him."
"Thank you, admiral," Mack said.
"Just ask the yeoman to lead you to the Ship girl barracks on your way out," Simms added, "It's not far from here. Then I think you can find the BOQ on your own?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then, I believe that you have an appointment to keep, commander," Simms said, "Dismissed."
"Aye, ma'am," Mack said, then did a crisp about face, and walked out of the office. She didn't realize that she had been holding her breath until she stepped out into the hallway.
The yeoman was at his desk when she walked up to him, she was about to ask for directions, when he asked, "Ma'am, did I see the CNO come in here?"
"Yes, you did, but keep that secret. I got the impression that he was here unofficially," Mack countered.
"Aye, ma'am, no sense getting into trouble for matters above my paygrade. What can I help you with, ma'am?"
"I need directions petty officer, to the ship girl barracks," Mack explained.
"I can help you out there, if you would, please follow me," the yeoman said, then stood up from his desk, and began to walk out. Mack followed him closely as he walked across the base.
NS Midway Island
"You wanted to see me, sir," asked the battleship Nevada as she stuck her head into Captain Smith's office.
"Yes, yes, come in, please," he said, and made a, 'come here' gesture with his hands. "I'm pretty sure you've heard about the transfer from the scuttlebutt news service by now, so I'll spare you that news, so just ask me any questions you have."
"Sir," she began, "Why am I being transferred?"
"You'll be moving to the Atlantic theater, we wanted girls who had experience over there, and you were on that list," Smith explained, "The new base is in Norfolk, on the Naval Station."
"How are we getting there?"
"Air Force to the states, then commercial to Norfolk," Smith replied, "Don't worry, there will be an officer to meet you stateside, he'll lead you through the process of flying commercial." Smith reached into his desk and pulled something out, "And before I forget, congratulations Ensign Nevada, the paperwork will make its way through channels eventually, but I got the co ahead from CINPAC to give you these." Nevada took a felt box from Smith and looked inside. It was a pair of gold bars, the rank insignia of an ensign.
"Sir, I'm not qualified to be an officer, I have no experience with this…" she began to protest, but was stopped by a stern look from Smith.
"How do you think I felt when I got my bar?" he asked, rhetorically, "You will do fine, Enterprise thinks you'll make a good commander, and I agree with her."
"I'll do my best, sir," she announced.
"That's all we can really hope for," Smith said, then added, "Oh, and one other thing, when you get there, I'm not your commanding officer anymore. Treat your new CO with just as much respect and professionalism that you show me, and you will have no problems, but be ready for anything. And, please, please, please, keep the destroyers reigned in. Norfolk is a large base in the middle of a large city, there are all sorts of creative ways for them to get into trouble out there, keep an eye on them."
"Do you have anything else, sir?" Nevada asked.
"Nope, you plane leaves tomorrow at 1600, be on the tarmac, and relay everything to the rest of the transferees if you would," Smith said. Nevada nodded, and walked out of the captain's office, only to be ambushed by Bogue.
"So what did he say? What did he say?" the energetic escort carrier asked.
"That the orders are official," Nevada replied, "We're being transferred stateside tomorrow."
"But why would they do that?" Bogue asked, "What point is there to transfer us?"
"There's a new base forming in Norfolk, the top brass wants girls who have Atlantic experience there."
"Yes, I noticed that," Bogue replied, "That all of the girls on that list were in the Atlantic at one point in their careers." She continued to ramble on for a few more seconds, but Nevada was too focused on the box in her hands to listen. A fact that Bogue caught onto rapidly. "You aren't even listening, are you," she accused, "Why does no one ever listen?"
"Maybe because you use too many words?" said a new voice, one that made the hair on Nevada's neck prickle.
"Pennsylvania," Nevada said in the calmest tone she could manage, "Do not insult people, its unprofessional."
"Yeah, what she said," Bogue jumped in. Nevada groaned internally, the little escort had just made things worse.
"What do I care about professionalism? I'm a battleship that's all the professionalism I need," Pennsy quipped back.
"Because," Nevada continued in her measured tone, "One day you might be up for promotion, and if you don't stack up, you will never get a set of these." Nevada held up the gold bars so that Pennsy could see them clearly. Nevada knew that it was a childish move to brag about her new rank, but at this point she just wanted to rub it in Pennsy's face.
"What you, how did you? There is something fundamentally wrong with a Navy that would give you a commission before me," Pennsy stated.
"You keep tellin yourself that Pennsy," Bogue said, "But Nevada's got the bars, and you don't."
"We'll see about that," Pennsy said, then walked off in a huff, directly towards Smith's office.
"Come on," Nevada said.
"To where?" Bogue asked.
"I would like to be as far away from this office as possible when she asks the captain for a commission."
"I see your point," Bogue conceded, "We can head back to the mess, you can show off your new bars to the rest of the girls going to Norfolk," Bogue suggested.
"As much as I would like to, right now all I want to do is sit, and think things through," Nevada said, "Go on, Bogue, I'll see you later."
"Alright then, have fun," the escort said, then ran off. Nevada followed her at a much slower pace, eventually hooking a left towards the battleship barracks. She spent the better part of an hour sitting on her bed, staring at the gold bars, trying to think about what she was going to do. Eventually, she gave up, and went to sleep.
A/N:
Well here it is, my first official spin off. I wanted to do a bit about the war in the Atlantic, and seeing as my main fic is already in the loads and loads of characters phase, I decided to start from scratch.
This fic will be focusing on a core group of a few characters, and keep things more linear than the main fic.