Online College courses suck. That is all.
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He woke to screaming.
He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep—he had been standing for inspection a moment ago—but his eyes flew open. He then immediately closed them against the inferno that was raging around him. Had the ship been burning? It didn't matter. It was now, and he was choking on the very real ash and soot. He both held his breath and panted in the heat of the flames.
The Arizona buckled beneath him. Planes that hadn't been there a moment ago now streaked overhead with their cannons strafing everything below them. Had a bomb hit? The ship had shuddered, but these planes were only firing cannons. Reality realized its mistake, and a bomb splashed into the water beside him. The near-miss covered him in saltwater and doused the flames around him for a moment. The fire surged back and crawled toward him, lapping at the water as if it were gasoline. Maybe it was. The saltwater along the deck then gained a rainbow-tinted shine as the flames swept atop it, the smell of car exhaust now burning in his nose.
He had to move.
He turned his body, but his sight stayed fixed. Just in front of him was a boy. No older than seventeen at best. He was unconscious. The flames were nearing him. His hand reached forward. The fire danced away and parted. He could do it.
His legs didn't feel like they were moving. The distance seemed to shrink away. He had already grabbed the boy. The distance opened back up. The edge of the ship stretched too far. He turned back to the boy. He had already been looking at him. He never turned away. He hadn't grabbed him yet. He needed to get him. He would be safe.
He blinked, and the world wrapped back around him. He gasped in the air that he couldn't feel enter his lungs, and yet it burned them with cinders all the same.
A low whistle forced his head skyward as a bomb materialized above him. The ship itself moved as he shifted away from it. The ship was not fast enough, and he felt the world turn upside down and roll. He stood static in the air as the ship itself seemed to spin before he was thrown back to the deck. The fire tickled at his skin, but his damp clothes refused to light as the rest of the gasoline had.
His hands were around the boy's arm.
He had forgotten that he had grabbed him, but the world had not. With him in his grip, he forced his legs to move toward the edge of the ship as saltwater-gasoline poured over its edge and down the freeboard. Once he reached the edge, he went back for the boy that he hadn't grabbed. He turned around and tried to pull him to the edge, the fires burning around them, trying to lick at the boy. His clothes were not doused in the saltwater-gasoline. They would light easily.
He kept picking the boy up and throwing him over the railing, but it grew just out of reach every time he tried. He couldn't lift the boy that he hadn't grabbed.
He tried to climb the railing himself but found that his shoes were stuck in the liquid pooled around his feet and on the deck. They only let him move back toward the boy. The boy that he had grabbed.
The faster he pulled him to safety, the faster the flames closed in. Now, in the open of the deck, the vultures that circled above could see their doomed prey. One saw its meal, the boy that he was saving. He did not see the plane.
He did not see the plane.
He did not see the plane.
He did not see the plane.
A light touch on his arm jolted him awake. His mind was still in that place, on that morning. Arms and legs that had earlier refused him finally listened, and they moved as fast as they could. No longer on the ship, all it did was throw him off the bench he was asleep on and onto the ground.
"Who're, what, huh?" he mumbled, not yet awake.
Groggy and dazed, he looked up and saw his wife, Diana. Still in that blue dress that he had bought her their first Christmas in Norfolk.
Wait, no, his wife was a brunette.
He blinked, and his eyes readjusted to the midday sun. It revealed instead a young woman that he had never seen before; her hair blonde, not brunette.
The woman raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips before speaking in an English accent. "Um, hello, sir. The bus is here. You were waiting for it, were you not?"
The bus?
He blinked twice at the woman before turning his head and seeing the large, unpainted bus idling rhythmically near him.
I made it to the bus stop last night? Good job, me. Maybe I can work off the rest of this hangover before I get back to Pearl, then.
He groaned, picking up his hat and quickly jumping aboard the awaiting bus. He gave the driver a nod and collapsed into the seat behind him. Throwing his hat back onto his head, he idly rubbed and twisted the plain, silver band on his left hand. He no longer needed to wear it, but it helped him sort his thoughts.
As his mind cleared, he began working through what he needed to do today. Or rather, what was left of today.
Waking up past noon used to be wonderful a few years ago. Now, I just feel like I need a cup of joe and a nap. What did I need to get done today, anyway... Shit. I was supposed to meet with Admiral Halsey at twelve-hundred, wasn't I? Hopefully, he'll also be running late. Please. I don't want to be on the receiving end of one of the Bull's chew outs.
He felt the engine rumble underneath him as the bus pulled away from the stop. It shuddered as it got underway, and he let the vibrations roll up his back, feeling thankfully pleasant to his hungover body.
I'm going to need to drink enough to feed a horse by the time I get back to my house. Drink, shower, iron uniform, then run to Halsey and beg for forgiveness where he then graciously accepts it like a modern Saint. That sounds like a good plan. I especially like the part where Halsey doesn't chew me out. It isn't Sunday, right? No, yesterday was Thursday. That means I don't have to add 'missing Church' onto my list of fuck ups today. I promised Father Menard that I would help with communion, too. I haven't written that down, so I'll need to put it on my calendar to make sure I don't forget to get there early.
Finished and satisfied that he hadn't missed anything on his mental checklist, he laid his head back against the seat and waited for the silver line bus to stop at Pearl. He'd taken this route several times during his tenure at Hawaii and was familiar with the lazy turns and stops of the bus. When he had felt the bus take the last right turn before Pearl, he ran his hands down his face and rubbed his eyes aggressively. Stars appeared in his vision when he opened his eyes, but they quickly faded. Repositioning his hat properly atop his head, he stood up and gripped the seat for balance as the bus slowed before the stop. The moment the doors opened, he was off, only giving Don, the driver, a brief nod in farewell. Don didn't try to talk to him. He liked Don.
As much as some cool, sea breeze and time tended to fix a hangover, he could still feel a bit of a shuffle and slide in his step that he would've customarily deemed unacceptable in one of his men, but he gave himself a pass.
Being promoted three times in one meeting was a helluva thing.
Stumbling past the checkpoint and the gate guard, Phillip, he was waved through without any trouble. It was a little something he had learned well at Annapolis: always make friends with the people on security detail. It was shocking at what contraband an enterprising young cadet could smuggle into the Academy with friends in security.
Like girls, for example. Or booze.
As he walked further into the base, he heard Phillip giving the blonde woman from earlier that had woken him up a hard time at the gate.
I could probably help her, but I'm already late. Sorry, Blondie, I have my own things to do.
He made the rest of the walk to his home on base in silence, content in listening and watching the rest of the base function and trying to pull itself back together. He was pulled from his musing just before the turn to his house by a gruff voice.
"Rear Admiral Jack Bell."
He was caught paralyzed mid-step as he heard the clacking of dress shoes against concrete close in on him.
This is the last man I want to see.
"Admiral Halsey, sir. Just the man I wanted to see." He turned with a put-upon smile.
Halsey waved his hand flippantly as he passed Jack. "At ease. You've got a star now. Act like it."
Jack had to follow quickly after the other Admiral, Halsey's long strides outpacing his own. Halsey didn't speak for a few minutes and left Jack to squirm in his presence as he led them back toward the main offices. The silence was finally broken after Halsey smirked at the shorter man next to him.
"Have a good night, Jack?"
"I- excuse me, sir?"
"You look like you slept on a bench, and you stink of booze."
Jack could feel his face heat up at how spot-on Halsey's joke was from reality.
"No, sir. Just fell asleep at my desk after a few too many and haven't the time to present myself. I was on my way back from breakfast to clean my uniform and wash up when you pulled me aside."
Halsey clapped his shoulder as they entered the offices. "Sure, you were. Now, shut up until we get to my office, would you?"
He nodded in response and opened the door to the main offices for the older man. As they walked side by side down the long corridors, he found himself walking in step with Halsey. He was a Rear Admiral himself now, but the sheer authority of the man next to him forced his cadence to march in step, following unspoken orders as if he were an Ensign fresh from Annapolis. The door to Halsey's office was closed, but the MP standing at attention outside of it gave a sharp salute before opening the door for the two admirals. The MP closed the door behind them, too, as soon as they were both inside.
Jack raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the door. "What's with the nine yards?"
Halsey grunted and threw himself down onto the black leather armchair behind his dark wood desk.
Probably mahogany, Jack thought absently.
"Guards are at all the offices that have sensitive information in them, now. Just a new precaution until we get ourselves together and figure out what is going on. Now, take a seat while I dig for the envelope I wanted to give you."
Seating himself in the wooden chair across from the desk reminded him once again of his time at Annapolis. He wasn't the largest nor tallest man, but the short-legged wooden chair made him feel small. He closed his eyes for half a second and breathed out slowly. Looking around the room, he took care to make sure that it was his eyes that wandered and not his head. The rest of the room was spartan. At least, the parts that he could see in front of him, around Halsey. Reams of paper were stacked in tall towers on the right edge of the desk, and a small model of an American standard battleship was sat beside his nameplate: William F. Halsey, Admiral. The man didn't look up from the stack of envelopes he was shifting through when he addressed Bell.
"Do you know why you were chosen for such rapid promotions, Bell?"
He sat ramrod straight in his chair. "No, sir, but judging by the question, I assume you're going to tell me."
Halsey was silent for several moments until it appeared that he had found the envelope that he was searching for and looked up at Jack while placing the rest of the excess envelopes off to the side. "Let me clear the air before we really get into this." The older man leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. "I don't like this, Bell. I don't like any of this hair-brained scheme that those eggheads in R&D made up. I don't like the Azure Project; I don't like that we had to promote a Lieutenant Commander up to Rear Admiral, and I don't like you."
Jack hoped that his poker face was holding. "May I ask as to why, sir?"
"You don't have enough experience. You're only twenty-eight. You're young even for a Lieutenant Commander, let alone Rear Admiral. I won't give you any misconceptions. The only reason that you were promoted so rapidly was because of politics. King and Fletcher wouldn't stand for a breach in tradition and allow someone so low in rank to command a fleet or even a task force." Halsey huffed and pushed off the table into his chair. "I wanted to promote Captain Keyes, but he was killed in the initial attack. The other option on the table was Commander Reynolds, and he was being vouched for by Kimmel himself, but his public disgracing and demotion after the attack dragged anyone associated with him down. Admiral Kidd- God rest his soul- was the one who vouched for you, and you're also the last of the three options we had available. Don't feel too honored."
After a surprised few moments of hanging silence, Jack cut in. "But Commander Reynolds is still only a Commander, though. Why the want for younger officers? He would be almost as inexperienced as I am."
Halsey's eyes crinkled. "Clever boy. The reason is twofold." He held up one finger. "The first is that the main naval arm needs all of our senior officers. We can't be wasting any on this new initiative without proof that it can bring actual results. Follow, Bell?"
Jack looked him in the eyes as he nodded.
"The second," he held up another finger, "is that the old guard will have too hard a time trying to learn all of this new nonsense. We can't waste time getting our sea legs on this one. We need it to work, and we need it to work now. The rest of the admiralty believed that someone younger would be better suited for this. Better able to roll with the punches, as the saying goes."
For the first time since Halsey began speaking, Jack looked away from him. "So, I'm what? A guinea pig?"
Halsey smiled mockingly. "Think of it more like being an early adopter. Trust me. You don't want to be a guinea pig when war breaks out. A guinea pig has tests run on it. You'll be the one running the tests on these…" Halsey paused. "I hesitate to use the word girls. These things."
Jack could understand Halsey not liking him. He could understand his promotion being a political appointment. However, for the first time this meeting, he was genuinely at a loss. "These girls, sir? I thought I'd be in charge of a fleet."
Halsey nodded. "You will be."
Jack had to put down the flash of anger and still not scowl at his superior. "If I'm to be in charge of a fleet, sir, then why the talk of women?"
"Because you'll be in charge of them." He smiled at Jack's cracking poker face. "Tell me, Bell, what do you know about the women we keep on base?"
"You mean the nurses?" Jack rubbed at the ring on his finger. " I can't say I've thought much about them. They're good to have on hand, I suppose."
Halsey shook his head. "Not the nurses, Bell." Jack saw him glance down at his hands. "Though I can't fault you for not looking at them too much or giving 'em much mind."
He rolled his black leather chair away from his desk. Jack heard a drawer open, and Halsey brought out a small bottle of what looked like whiskey. "I don't trust a fighting man who doesn't drink, and trust me, you're going to want something in you for this."
Jack cringed internally, his fading hangover still hovering over him. "I'll never say no to some good whiskey."
His reply was only a nicety, apparently, as Halsey had already poured him a glass of the alcohol. "It's Tennessee whiskey. Bourbon. Good stuff. Take a moment and appreciate it." Halsey held it up and took a sip. "The wife got it for me as a gift when this all began to go down. Said it was nature's painkiller. Didn't have the heart to tell her alcohol is manmade," he laughed.
Jack laughed politely at what he assumed was supposed to be a joke. "Sweet of her to care, and try to help how she could."
Halsey stared at his glass and smiled. "True, true." He placed the glass down in front of him. "Take as long as you need to nurse that drink, but we need to get back to business. I'll ask again. What do you know about the girls on base? The ones that aren't nurses."
What do I know about them? They're good for morale? Good for posters? I've never really seen them do anything.
Jack shrugged. "Not too much. They're good for photographs? Good for morale?"
Halsey narrowed his eyes. "Be more certain in your speech. You're allowed to guess, and you can even say as such, but you have to sound certain. Uncertainty causes doubt, and doubt breeds hesitation. Say what you know again."
As he thought of how to reword his statement, Halsey cut in. "Good. You're thinking about it. Your mouth's first words are far less intelligent than your head's. Again."
He nodded. "I don't know much. I know that they can be good for photography and most likely raise the morale of the sailors on base."
Halsey gave a curt nod. "A passable answer." He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk once again. "What is to be discussed here is not to leave this room. Understand, Commander Bell?"
Memories of the Academy once again filled him, and Bell didn't think his back could get straighter than ramrod, but he felt himself tense. "Sir, yes, sir."
The older man stared through him as Jack held his eyes steady. After a silent second that seemed to stretch on for far too long, Halsey slowly began to nod. "Good. Good. I figure this may as well be like a band-aid. The short is that we tried to play God."
Jack blinked and waited for the punchline. It didn't come.
"Excuse me, sir, I think that I misheard you. It sounded as if you claimed that the Admiralty 'played God'."
Halsey seemed to age before him. Years piled on in an instant, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh. "You heard correctly, Bell. Those girls you see on base? They weren't born by the Grace of God. They were built by men."
Jack stared slack-jawed.
Then, he burst into laughter.
"Oh, oh, that was where the punchline was," Jack managed to wheeze between fits of laughter, "I was worried that you were serious for a moment. Building people? Playing God? I didn't think you could make jokes like that."
Jack's laughter slowly died down as Halsey's face remained disturbingly neutral. It wasn't the face of someone who just told a joke.
It was the face of a man who truly believed he was going to Hell.
"Lord above, you're serious..."
The older man rubbed a hand over his rough stubble. "When the Great War ended, and the Germans capitulated, we raided their archives. Buried in the naval research buildings were crates upon crates of these shining little cubes. Small enough to fit several in your hand. The records that were recovered alongside them claimed that they had been found by the Ottomans in the Dead Sea and were kept by the Sultan. When they made their alliance with the IronBlood, the Sultan gave them to the Kaiser as a gift."
Halsey paused to take a sip of his drink. "Drove him mad. The records showed that he kept ordering more and more ships from the dockyards in an attempt to make the cubes work. How he figured out that the cubes were meant for ships wasn't mentioned in the records. After the Kaiser lost and we took possession of the cubes, Project Azure- named such because of the color of these cubes- was started by the League of Nations. Despite not being a member state of the League, we also had a minor role, ostensibly to make sure the Washington Naval Treaty was being honored. Eventually, the project broke down, and everyone took what research they had back to their home countries. That failed project is what you'll be bringing back."
Jack stared at him before taking his face in his hands and massaging his temples. "Okay, okay. Let's say that these cube things are real and that the German Kaiser had a big ole' stash of 'em. What did the original project do, and what does it have to do with playing God and the women on base?"
Instead of answering his questions, Halsey rolled his chair back, and it sounded like he opened one of the drawers in his desk. Reaching inside, he pulled out a little, iridescent, blue cube.
"This," he said, "is one of those cubes. Go on. Take it."
Placing his glass on the desk next to the model of the battleship, Jack tentatively reached for the little cube. It was small enough that he could take it from Halsey with just his thumb and forefinger. It felt almost weightless; gravity seemed not to affect it as he moved it up and down experimentally. That wasn't what truly took his attention, though.
It was the lights.
No matter which way he held it, the little blue cube had a halo of radiating gold and silver light. The lights within lazily flowed in unseen paths of rainbow hues that all flowed into the center, which glowed a soft, warm white. The more he stared at it, the more his hand began to tremble. Even while he spoke, his eyes stayed fixed on the cube.
"What the fuck is this?"
"The technical answer? Not a damn clue. The practical answer? A cheat-sheet for creating life."
A flash of anger came over him once again. "You keep saying that, sir, now explain it."
Halsey narrowed his eyes. "Do not forget that I am still your direct superior officer, Rear Admiral Bell."
Jack bit his tongue to stop the immediate retort. "May we bring this meeting to the topic that I was originally called for, then?"
"I may forgive such a slight, Bell, but know that other senior officers won't be so understanding of a breach in decorum. Watch yourself." Halsey knocked back the rest of the whiskey in his glass before continuing. "Since you're oh so eager to learn, then I will be frank. The cubes give us a way to create life. The eggheads figured out that when presented to a ship with enough renown and a solid enough collective consciousness of how the crew thought of the ship, the cubes could manifest as a woman. A woman that was the embodiment of the ship and was as intertwined to it as you and me are to our skin. They can feel what is happening on their ship, conjure a rigging of ship parts around themselves out of thin air, and in some instances, it was shown that they could command their ship all on their own. That is what those cubes can do, and that is the kind of fleet that you will be commanding."
Jack blinked several times. He was simply staring through the wooden desk. He quickly followed in Halsey's footsteps and knocked back what was left of his glass, too. "So, you're telling me that I will be in charge of a fleet of ships that are also women, that are also able to summon ships parts like magic, and are also able to command the ship that they represent by themselves?"
Halsey nodded. "Got it in one, Bell. There is more, but I'll let the dossier that I've prepared for you in that envelope explain the rest. Before I dismiss you, however, care to listen to the parting words of an old man?"
"I don't think that was a real question if I'm honest."
Halsey snorted. "Good catch, lad. I'll give you some advice for free. They're not human, Bell. They may look like women, talk like women, complain and bitch like women, but they are not women. You can't keep that kind of thinking when you watch them throw a five-inch shell between each other like a baseball."
Jack felt his mouth hang open. "A five-inch shell?"
"Yes. A five-inch shell. Tossed like you can throw a baseball. They're not human. They're probably not even people. They're made from ships made only for war. I don't know about you, but if I had a human-like version of my Colt, I wouldn't want to ask it about philosophy. We can ask whether or not these things are people after the war ends, but as of now, they need to be weapons. As such, just like how you oil a gun to keep it working, do your best to make sure that they function at their best. Do whatever you need to keep them functioning. Smile. Give them a treat. Be a good commanding officer that they will not hesitate to obey." Halsey paused. "You're dismissed."
Jack barely processed the words before standing and giving a sharp salute like he had been taught in Annapolis. "Sir."
He turned on his heel and carried the thick envelope he'd been given under his arm. As eager as he was to read it, he desperately needed a hot shower, food, and coffee.
He rolled the cube in his jacket pocket between his fingers, and everything that had been discussed became terrifyingly real in his mind.
He would need a lot of coffee.
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Review as always. It really does mean a lot to read what you guys think.
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