NAVSTA Pearl Harbor
Things on the base were moving forward at a rapid pace. Crews were hard at work repairing the ships in the harbor, and restocking them with the island's diminishing stores of ordnance. Air Force transports were flying constantly, bringing in much needed supplies. Trucks clogged the roads as they shuffled weapons, supplies, and personnel throughout the island. Oahu was slowly being prepped for war, and Captain Jeffery didn't know what to think about that. He was glad the Navy wasn't ignoring the threat of this conflict. The only way in hell that they were going to beat the Abyssals, was by throwing everything they had into the fight.
Jeffery stood on the bank of the harbor, staring out at the motley collection of ships tied to the docks. Three of the destroyers were his, and he was thankful that the damage they had taken was not severe. Other ships were not as lucky. The great carrier Gerald R. Ford had all but sunk at her moorings as a result of the pounding she had taken. It was only due to luck and good decisions that the carrier was not resting on the bottom.
But for everything the ships represented, Jeffery was focused on something else today. In the center of the harbor, away from anything else, four shapes were cutting across the water. It was a sight that would cause anyone to look twice. The sight of four girls skating across the surface of the water was not something you saw everyday. Jeffery had finally given them the freedom to practice out on the harbor, so long as they didn't interfere with the ships tied up their. The four destroyers had been at it for almost two hours now, running maneuver and weapon drills. Jeffery was so lost in thought watching Charlie maneuver with her division, that he didn't hear Commander Simon Reilly's approach.
"Good morning, sir," Jeffery looked up in surprise, only to see Reilly grinning from ear to ear. The Halsey's CO took a long look at Jeffery before saying, "Something catch your eye, sir?"
"You could say that," Jeffery replied, folding his arms across his chest, "Several, actually."
Reilly fell silent for a long moment, staring at the destroyer girls himself, "They certainly are amazing. I swear those moves they are pulling look like something out of the old training manuals."
"I'll say this," Jeffery added, "They certainly know their stuff." With a word from Charlie, the girls split into two ship elements. Each group ran together as they made a mock attack run on one of the docked ships. Jeffery began to wonder what would have happened if the girls had actually launched their torpedoes, rather than pretend to.
"You're planning something, aren't you, sir?" Reilly asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"That obvious eh?" Jeffery replied, shaking his head, "Just thinking about how we can use them."
"They did a better job of fighting the Abyssals then me ship for certain," Reilly said, "That sort of firepower would be helpful."
"Considering none of our missiles work right now, and any possible updates are being stalled in bureaucracy," Jeffery said, rolling his eyes, "We may be forced to rely on the ships who look like girls to help plug the gap. I bet just admitting that is going to cause heads to roll."
"Sir," Reilly asked after a moment, "Where are you going with this?"
"I couldn't tell you, Commander," Jeffery replied, "I don't really have anything concrete. Just an idea." The roar of jet engines passing overhead caused Jeffery to look up. A C-5 Galaxy passed overhead as it climbed out of the airbase. The plane was probably taking a load of civilians back stateside. While the civilians had not been ordered to leave, a voluntary evacuation was in effect. Many had chosen to leave the islands in fear of the advancing Abyssals. No one knew when such transport would cease to be viable.
Jeffery looked away from the big jet, and down at the harbor. What he saw brought a thin smile to his lips. Charlie had stopped moving, and had raised a hand to wave at the passing plane. "All of our standing doctrines are going to be shattered to hell and back when this war is done," Jeffery remarked.
"And you have an idea about that?" Reilly asked, gesturing for the Captain to explain.
"If I could write you a blank check today, Commander, what would you use it for?" Jeffery asked, changing the subject.
"A yacht and a private jet," Reilly replied without thinking. Jeffery shot him a serious look, and he added, "Right now? Ordinance that works. I don't even mean missiles, thought they would be nice, just some decent cannon rounds would be enough."
"You're saying what we have isn't good enough?" Jeffery asked. Almost as an afterthought, he dug a notebook out of his pocket and began scribbling in it.
"Shooting what we had at the Abyssals was like throwing wads of wet toilet paper at a brick wall," Reilly said, suppressing an involuntary shudder.
"That bad then?" Jeffery asked, looking up at the Commander.
"HE rounds do fuck all when fired at armored targets," Reilly added, "Just some decent AP would help. I'd love a bigger gun too, but that's probably not viable. Not with the Burke at least."
"No railgun?" Jeffery asked, a smirk spreading across his face.
"You mean the overly complicated, resource intensive weapon that would probably short out half my ship the minute I tried to fire it?" Reilly replied, mirroring the Captain's smirk.
"So no railgun?"
"Not on the Halsey at least," Reilly replied, "I doubt we could even jam that thing into a Flight II Burke."
"What about the girls?" Jeffery asked, changing the subject again.
"If you would give them to me, I'd take them. They eat a lot, but nothing we couldn't handle with some extra stores," Reilly replied, then raised a questioning eyebrow, "Is that what you were out here brooding about?"
"I wasn't brooding," Jeffery bristled.
"Sir, you were standing on the edge of a dock staring off into the middle distance," Reilly said, crossing his arms over his chest, "You were brooding."
"Even so, I think we could integrate the girls into our standard forces with little hassle," Jeffery said, steering the conversation back as quickly as he could, "Base them on a ship, let them deploy to fight when the time comes. They get a place to rest and eat between sorties, and we get a little extra firepower. Seems like a win-win to me."
"But good luck convincing the Pentagon about that," Reilly said, finishing the thought.
"That is the problem, yes," Jeffery allowed, "We're already getting blowback from some of the other officers on the island, and there are only four destroyers." He shook his head, remembering a heated discussion with one of the other squadron commanders a few days back. The argument had gotten so out of hand, that the Admiral had been forced to intercede.
"So trying to convince the Brass to look into the matter…" Reilly trailed off.
"There are already factions forming over this," Jeffery said with a sigh.
"Write a report then, sir. Hell, mail it into the Proceedings." That statement caught Jeffery's attention. The Proceedings was the US Naval Institute's in house magazine, that ran articles written by anyone.
'What would happen if a major publication ran such an article?' Jeffery thought. It definitely deserved further consideration. "I may just do that," Jeffery muttered.
"Till then though, we keep watching them," Reilly said.
"And helping them wherever we can," Jeffery added, "They still need a lot of help adapting to our world." A smile split his face as he remembered the events of the last few days. The ship girls were many things, boring certainly wasn't one of them. In fact, Jeffery loved the distraction they gave him from the everyday grind. The fact that they were cute only added to the enjoyment. 'How the fuck am I going to be able to order them into battle? I can barely bring myself to send my sailors into battle, and they signed up for this," Jeffery thought bitterly.
He looked up at harbor. Charlie had obviously called the practice for the day, and the four girls were slowly sailing back towards the docks, leaning into each other as they went and laughing visibly. The sight was moving, and it hammered home the thought that had been pinging around in the Captain's head for the last few days.
Taking a long breath, he said, "We have to remember that no matter how good they are at fighting, those girls are not merely weapons. They were given a chance that none of us can fathom, and we damn well better not let them waste it."
"And there lies the major problem that will face the next generation of war," Reilly replied, "Because like it or not, sir, those girls are going to be around to stay."
Jeffery nodded in agreement. Reilly had hit the nail right on the head. The ship girls had not only swept the board, they had chucked it out the nearest fucking window. Things were going to change, and it was going to be up to history to
"Quite the thoughtful statement, Commander," Jeffery looked up in surprise as Admiral Smith walked onto the dock. The two officers came to attention, and snapped off quick salutes to their superior. Smith returned the gesture with a casual wave towards his forehead.
Jeffery was about to say something, but the words died on his lips when he took a good look at the Admiral. Smith had pulled his cover low over his eyes, so it was hard to read his expression, but his posture alone spoke volumes. The Admiral looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Captain," his voice wavered noticeably as he spoke, "I just received this." Smith slowly held out a folded sheet of paper towards Jeffery.
Jeffery reached to take the paper, and was surprised to see that his hands were shaking.
"Bob, I'm sorry. I should have gotten this sooner," Smith said, shaking his head.
Jeffery carefully opened the paper, and read the short note.
-[]-[]-[]-
PRIORITY
HQ 7TH FLEET
FOLLOWING PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM ADMIRAL RICHARDSON FOR ADMIRAL SMITH 3RD FLEET HQ
Jim, I regret to inform you that the name you sent me, matches one on the list of the confirmed casualties. I do not have a lot of details at this time, but I can tell you that the loss of life aboard the Mustin was high. It is very likely that Emily Jeffery perished in the opening attacks.
Please relay my condolences to her father. Captain Jeffery is a good officer, and it pains me to have to relay this sad news.
Respectfully,
RADM Charles Richardson
7th Fleet N3
SUPPLEMENTAL
FROM: CDRUSPACOM
TO: ADM SMITH
Please convey to CPT Jeffery the personal condolences of myself and Mrs. Robertson.
ADM Thomas Robertson
CDRUSPACOM
MESSAGE ENDS
-[]-[]-[]-
"Oh shit!" Jeffery breathed, then lowered the slip of paper to his waist, ignoring the distinct tremors running through his hands.
The Admiral handed him the cap of a flask. It held an ounce and a half of scotch.
"I'm sorry, Captain," Admiral Smith said.
"Hell, even CINCPAC's sorry," Jeffery said. He felt the hot sting of tears running down his face. He drank down the scotch, gasped, coughed. The Admiral refilled the lid, and offered it to Jeffery, but the Captain waved it away. The Admiral drank it himself.
"Are you alright, sir?" Reilly asked in a quiet tone.
"Yes, Commander," Jeffery snapped, "Everything's just fan-fucking-tastic."
"Take a minute, Bob," Admiral Smith said, laying a hand on Jeffery's shoulder, "This war isn't going to go anywhere."
The Captain didn't reply, instead staring down at the slip of paper still clutched in his hands. He was surprised at how he felt. Not angry or sad, just numb.
"Commander," Admiral Smith announced a moment later, "I hate to have to tell you this now, but your squadron have patrol orders for a week from today," he shot Jeffery a quick look, "I'll handle their assignments for you if you want, Captain."
"No," Jeffery replied, his voice thick with emotion, "I can take care of it. If my ships are going into battle, I want to be the one giving the orders."
"Okay, but if you need anything…" Admiral Smith began to say.
"I want permission to station the destroyer girls on one of my ships," Jeffery stated before the Admiral could finish.
"I don't see a problem with that," Smith allowed.
"Good," Jeffery said, then began to walk away, "Commander, look after Charlie for awhile, I have some orders to cut."
"Aye sir," Reilly replied apprehensively, "Are you sure you're okay."
"I'm fucking hunky dory, Commander, "Jeffery said, turning on Reilly with anger in his eyes. He took a long breath to quell the anger trying to bubble up inside him, then said, "I have to go tell my wife about this. Good afternoon, Admiral."
Smith returned Jeffery's salute, but didn't say another word as the Captain walked away.
"Commander, "Admiral Smith announced, "Keep an eye on him. Enlist Charlie if you have to. I'm afraid if we leave him alone, he'll either crawl into a bottle, or retreat into his work."
"Aye sir," Reilly replied, giving a curt nod.
"Let's hope we can all get through these next few days without crawling into a bottle," Smith muttered. He gave Reilly and the girls one last look, then walked back towards his office.
Yokosuka Naval District
Nicholas was asleep. Which, when you looked at it, was probably for the best. Matt Dover didn't doubt how much the poor girl had been through over the last few days, and was glad that she was recovering. Doc Tanner had moved her out of the bath, but had told her to stay off her legs for at least a week. At least lying on a bed in the barracks was more comfortable than being stuck in that bath.
A thin smile spread across Dover's face as he walked into the room. A pile of snacks and books lay next to the sleeping destroyer, gifts from her sisters in an attempt to make her feel more comfortable. Dover carefully pulled over a chair and sat down next to Nicholas' bed, and then sat in silence for a long moment. Part of him wanted to just leave and let the girl sleep in peace, but he couldn't simply leave without at least trying to say goodbye.
Things were changing in the US Navy, and Matt Dover was caught in the middle of it. He sucked in a long breath through his teeth and said quietly, "So I guess I better say this before you learn about it in the news. The Evans is being thrown back into the war."
A picture suddenly popped into Dover's mind. One of the conversation that had occurred a few days ago in the commandant's office. Though conversation may have been a generous term, heated argument may be more appropriate. The Navy had decided that the only way to win this war, was to throw whatever they had into the fight, no matter the cost. The Evans just so happened to be combat ready at the time. Dover had tried to explain to Captain Macklin just how bad an idea this was, but the Captain would have none of it. Now Dover was skating on even thinner ice with the Captain.
"They want us to force a passage back to Pearl Harbor," Dover continued, "Seeing as how well that went the last time, you could probably understand my reluctance. Gregg has been working on tweaking our weapons and sensors, and Fletcher has been helping too."
Dover paused just long enough to let out a wry chuckle, "You should have seen her, elbow deep in a tomahawk. She looked like a five year old on Christmas morning. Everyone else has been helping out as well, you'd be proud of your sisters."
That had been another heated argument. Commander Jones was pretty open to the idea of the girls going with them, but Macklin wouldn't even entertain the idea. It had taken bucking the issue up to the Admiral to dissuade the Captain, and even that had been difficult. It was only after flashing the CNO's message that everyone had backed down. So, with the Admiral's blessing, the shipgirls were temporarily entered into the roster aboard the Evans.
"I know you want to be with them," Dover said with a sigh, "I'd probably want the same thing. But I promise you, I will do my best to take care of them. We will get through this, and we will come back."
Dover paused and looked up at the ceiling for a long moment, "Get better Nick. Get better so you can come back. They need you Nick, hell, I need you. As much as I pretend to know what I'm doing, I'm nothing more than an officer promoted by circumstance. You girls are the ones who know what to do."
His throat grew tight, and he had to cough several times before he could continue, "But I promise, I will keep them safe. Everyone will come through this." A humorless laugh escaped him, "Look at me, getting all sentimental in my old age." He shook his head, then stood up to leave, but was stopped by a tug on his sleeve.
Dover looked down to see that Nicholas' hand was holding onto the end of his sleeve. The destroyer looked up at him for a long moment without speaking, finally she announced, "I trust you, Commander." Dover's vision blurred for a moment as tears filled his eyes. "Just," Nicholas continued, "Don't leave me out next time."
"You can bet I won't," Dover replied, "You better believe I won't." He reached down and held the destroyer's hand tight in his own for a long moment. "I have to go," Dover said.
"Good luck," Nicholas called when he was halfway to the door. Dover didn't reply, simply nodded as he walked out the door. This was certainly going to be a rough few weeks for him. Hell, it was going to be a rough few weeks for them all.
-[]-[]-[]-
A/N: Sorry I took so long, but life and finals happen. Moving rather swiftly into the next arc, so more battles and action are coming(Yay!) Had to wrap up a few plot threads that I had left hanging, and this was the best time as any.