NS Norfolk, July 18, 2018
Norfolk certainly had changed since the last time Nevada had been here. She could only see about ten ships tied up at the various piers, instead of the hundreds that she had witnessed towards the end of the war. The few ships she could see, looked worn and beat up. Like they had just returned from battle. Metal was warped, paint scorched, cables frayed, and rust evident. She could see the bright flares of welding torches as yard apes did their best to repair the damage. This had to be the work of the Abyssals, but she hadn't thought it was this bad. "It looks worse than it is, trust me," Nevada wheeled around to see who was speaking. There was a petite woman leaning against one of the stanchions lining the harbor. Nevada immediately stiffened, because whoever it was, she was wearing the silver oak leaves of a lieutenant commander.
"How so?" Nevada asked, so startled that she forgot to add, "Ma'am."
The commander decided to ignore the battleship's blunder, and replied, "These ships are still floating. There used to be twice this many at least."
Nevada's eyes went wide, and she said in a low voice, "We've really taken that much of a beating?"
"Fraid so," the commander replied, then looked at Nevada, "You must be Nevada? My new battleship?"
"You mean, you're?"
The commander stuck out her hand, "Lieutenant Commander Emily Mackenzie, but you can call me Mack." Nevada silently took Mack's hand, taking a long look at her new CO.
"How do you know who I am?" Nevada finally managed to ask, "Isn't that supposed to be a secret?"
"Your driver called me after he dropped you off. Told me what to look for. I am your new commanding officer after all," Mack said, smiling widely.
"You…" Nevada trailed off, stunned, "Aren't you supposed to be waiting for me in the headquarters?"
"Is there I reason I should? I wanted to meet my new subordinates out in the open. Speaking of which, where's the rest of them?" Mack pushed herself off the safety chain, then stretched. "Come on you, let's go find them."
"But, ma'am, don't you want me to report in?" Nevada asked, flustered.
Mack waved her off, "That can wait for later. Right now I want to meet the rest of the girls." Nevada was stunned by this woman's cavalier attitude, wasn't a CO responsible for making sure their subordinates reported in on time?
"They're in the barracks, getting settled," Nevada finally said.
Mack clapped her hands together, loudly, "Good, then we can go see them right away." She began walking away, then turned back when she realized that Nevada wasn't following. "You coming? Or do I need to make that an order?" Why was she acting like this? Wasn't an officer supposed to maintain a professional rapport with their subordinates at all times?
Nevada shook her head to clear it, "Yes, ma'am." She bounded after Mack, quickly catching up to the shorter woman.
"So you used to be a ship, right?" Nevada had gotten used to this question by now. It always seemed to be the first one she was asked. That or, "So which one were you?"
"Yeah," was the only thing she could manage to say.
"I always admired the big gun battleships," Mack announced, "I always wanted to command one. I guess this is about as close as I'll ever get to that." Nevada was a little taken aback. Why was this officer, a senior one at that, sharing things about herself? Captain Smith never talked about his personal life, at least not while he was acting officially. He had been known to tell the occasional sea story, especially after a few drinks at the club.
Nevada couldn't help but ask, "Ma'am, if you don't mind? Why are you telling me this?"
Mack shrugged, "I guess you seem like someone I can relate too. I don't really know why, just the feeling I get." Nevada decided to silent for the rest of the walk. She was still having trouble to form an opinion about this CO. Mack didn't stay silent, continuing to say, "I have to warn you, this is my first command. So I'm going to need any help that you can give me."
Nevada stopped suddenly, "They assigned us a brand new commander?" Mack stopped as well, and turned to look at Nevada for a long moment.
She explained, "I was assigned this post by the CNO. He wanted someone who didn't have too many traits to unlearn. Someone who didn't have command experience to screw up their perception of this position. I get the feeling that there are big things in store for you girls." Nevada didn't know what to think about that. To her, their whole program was still a top secret experiment. The very fact that they Navy was willing to establish new units just to help them fight, said a lot, but she decided to withhold judgement for now.
"I guess that makes sense," she allowed.
"Good," Mack replied, "We're here by the way. Do you want to make introductions?" Nevada nodded, and Mack pushed open the door.
She immediately winced when she heard Tuscaloosa's distinct voice shouting, "Bogue, I swear to god, if you messed with my stuff again, I'll give you a good 'ole country ass-whoopin. And don't think that little four stack sidekick of yours won't get the same treatment." Nevada cleared her throat loudly, causing the heavy cruiser to wheel around, "What?"
"Loosa, ehem," Nevada said, gesturing towards where Mack was standing.
"What, who's this?" Tuscaloosa asked, comically missing the point.
Nevada couldn't take it anymore, "Oh, for-this is our new CO. Don't you recognize the rank devices?" Tuscaloosa's eyes went wide as the severity of her mistake became apparent.
She finally came to attention and said, "I'm sorry ma'am, I had other things on my mind."
Mack waved her off, "That's alright. I'm just here to look over my girls, pay me no mind." Tuscaloosa shot Nevada a questioning look, to which the battleship replied with a shrug. "So you are?"
Tuscaloosa held out her hand, "USS Tuscaloosa, CA-37. Ready, willin, and able to kick some Abyssal ass."
"If you don't mind, you're a heavy cruiser, right?" Mack asked after taking her hand.
"New Orleans class, last of the 'treaty cruisers'," Tuscaloosa replied. Mack started up a conversation with the cruiser that Nevada didn't really pay much attention too. She noticed something else, a certain escort carrier barreling into the room. The short girl, ran over to Tuscaloosa and put her face right in the cruiser's
"I swear Loosa, for the last time, I DIDN'T TOUCH YOUR STUFF." Nevada buried her face in her hands as Mack jumped at the carrier's entrance.
"Bogue," Nevada whispered, "CO."
"What do you mean, oh…" she said after getting a glimpse of Mack, "I messed up again, didn't I?"
"Depends," Mack said, "On who you would be?"
"Escort carrier Bogue. If you have a sub to hunt, I'm your girl," she replied, a note of pride replacing her earlier fear.
"Good to know," Mack replied, then asked Nevada, "Are there any more in your little group?"
"Ranger, Wichita, Benson, her DesRon, and Clemson," Tuscaloosa replied, ticking off her fingers.
"Now, where are they?" Nevada asked.
"Don't know about mini carrier's sidekick, but Ranger and Wichita went to the Nex. Benson and her girls getting settled upstairs," Tuscaloosa explained.
"I am not a mini carrier," Bogue replied indignantly.
"That is exactly what you are," Tuscaloosa quipped.
"Please, calm down girls," Mack interrupted the argument before it could begin. "Nevada, why don't you help the girls settle in. Then, when they all get back, come by my office and we can discuss strategy."
"That sounds fine, ma'am," Nevada replied.
Mack nodded, "Very well, have fun then." She walked out, leaving Nevada alone with her girls
"What was that all about?" Nevada asked once Mack was gone.
"She stole my shirt," Tuscaloosa replied, stabbing a finger at Bogue.
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Not."
"Too."
"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU," Nevada bellowed, "Thank you. Now, you're both lucky, our new CO seems like a reasonable person, and let you get away with that. But you better not do it again."
"Aye ma'am," Bogue mumbled.
"Fine," Tuscaloosa harrumphed.
"Now, you go get settled in," Nevada pointed at Tuscaloosa, "And you, go find Clemson before she breaks something." The two girls shot a look at each other, then disappeared. Nevada found herself wondering once more how the hell Captain Smith dealt with this on a regular basis.
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A few hours later, Nevada found herself in the Norfolk O-club, sharing a meal with Mack. "I want you to tell me about all of the girls," the commander asked, "The stuff that I can't get from the personnel reports."
"I don't exactly know what you want," Nevada replied.
"I want to know about everyone's personality. If I'm going to have to lead these girls, I want to know how they think. I got a little of that earlier, but I want to know more." Nevada took a long sip from her drink while she framed a reply.
"Bogue is hyperactive normally, and gets even worse when she sniffs out a submarine. That girl is a fiend when it comes to ASW. Clemson is the same way. She's a bit weaker compared the rest though, so she's always trying to prove that she's just as good as any other ship."
"They sound, colorful," Mack said.
"Ranger, the other carrier, is shy. She doesn't like new people or new situations, and she is very apprehensive about her own skills. It takes effort to get her to try anything. Tuscaloosa…" Nevada trailed off, "well you met here. She's like that pretty much on a regular basis. Wichita is kind and thoughtful. She's usually the one building up Ranger's confidence, or reigning in Tuscaloosa. Benson is professional. While some of her DDs can get a bit crazy at times, she does her best to keep them under control."
"I think that it's amazing how varied all of you are," Mack replied, "So what determines that, or is it just how you summon?"
"We don't really know," Nevada replied, staring down into her glass, "Captain Smith thinks that it's a combination of several things, but no one knows for sure just yet." Mack nodded her acknowledgement of that. She was about to say something, when a man wearing a uniform that Nevada didn't recognize walked over to Mack.
"Commander," he said, "I need to talk to you." He spoke with a British accent, and the strange uniform lead Nevada to guess that he had something to do with the English ship girl program. She had been told that they used Norfolk as a base of operations.
"Chief Farnsworth," Mack said, looking up at the man, "What can I do for you?"
"This is a heads up commander, I just got word that a convoy is en-route. It should be here in three days."
"What convoy?" Nevada interrupted.
"Damn, where are my manners," Mack stated, "Nevada, this is Chief Farnsworth, the local liaison to the British ship girl branch. And this is the Ensign Nevada, former USS Nevada, and the highest ranking shipgirl on base."
Farnsworth spent several minutes looking at Nevada then said, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. We've been wondering how long it would take you yanks to get in on the ship girl racket."
"Likewise," Nevada replied, trying to get a read on this man.
"You mentioned a convoy?" Mack said, changing the subject.
"Yes, there'll be a convoy pulling in in three days. I have no idea who's running the escort."
"Thank you chief," Mack replied, "There anything else?"
"That's all for now, ma'am. I'll let you know if I hear anything else," Farnsworth said, gave Nevada a nod, then walked out.
"Interesting man, our liaison," Mack added once he had left. Nevada nodded silently. "We'll be getting some British girls as transients soon. From what I gather, they've been screaming for our help lately. You think your girls can do that."
"It's what we're here for," Nevada replied.
"Still, you think you can make a difference with the girls you have now?"
"It's not a case of if we can, it's a case of we have to."
"Do you think we can get some reinforcements soon?"
"Ma'am, I have no idea when more shipgirls will show up."
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She was old. Her hull was tired, worn out. At one time her hull had been strong, able to withstand the heaviest of blows. Now it creaked and groaned with each passing of the tide. Where her paint was once pristine with an almost daily attention, now it was dull and neglected. Faded after years spent in the hot, Texas sun. The girl standing on top of the number two turret looked down at herself, and sighed. Her once bright blouse was faded and threadbare, just more evidence of her descent into obsolescence she figured. She slowly climbed down off the turret. It was getting harder and harder to move around her hull with each passing day. She figured that it wouldn't be long now until she was too tired to move at all. She could feel the water leaking in though her old seams, it was a constant reminder that her time was limited.
Besides the problems with herself, her life was easy these days. Just sit in the harbor, and go up and down with the tide. She was teaching the newest generation about her life, and her history with the Navy. It filled her with pride to watch as they walked around her decks, filled with awe at the sight of her big guns. She loved to follow their tour groups as they snakes their way through her spaces. Even if no one could see her, she watched them constantly.
That was before the war started. She still didn't know much past what she had heard, and what she could read from pilfered newspapers. All she knew was that the United States was at war against an enemy that was quickly sweeping the oceans clear. The Navy was trying to fight, but they were taking a pounding. Each week the paper would publish a list of local casualties, and each week the list only got longer. She wanted desperately to be able to help her comrades once more. To fire her 14" rifles in defense of her home. But the frailty of her hull, and the sluggishness of her step made that thought impossible. But she could still dream, couldn't she?
She walked out onto her foredeck, intending to get a good view as the sun rose over the city. It was a ritual she performed every morning, and a highlight of her days. A sharp pain in her hull, caused her to stumble. The pain started in her gut, then began to spread. She knew what this was, it had happened before. A seam had opened down near the waterline, and now she was taking on water at an alarming rate. She backed up against the number one turret, pain wracking her form now. She knew, just knew, that this time, she wouldn't be able to recover. She could feel herself starting to list, both in her keel, and in the angle of the deck under her feet. It wouldn't be long now before the list became too much to recover from.
The first time had almost killed her, and this time it felt much, much worse. "I just wanted to be able to help," she said softly. Tears rolling down her cheeks as the pain became unbearable. She slowly sank to the deck, back still propped against the turret. Slowly, her vision faded. "I guess this is it then," she muttered, even though there was no one to hear, "I wonder if I'll get to see York again." That was when everything went dark.
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The morning was already starting to heat up, and the sun hadn't even crept over the horizon yet. For Eric Moreland, that meant that he didn't have much time before the heat went from uncomfortable, to intolerable. Well, better to get started with his rounds now so he could retreat into the air conditioned office to wait out the heat. He parked his car in the empty lot, and walked towards the ship that he had worked on for years. He was something of a jack of all trades on the museum's staff. He worked admin, lead tours, and his skill with a welding torch had been put to use on multiple occasions. He looked up at the battleship, and what he saw chilled him. The great battleship had a distinct list to port, and was riding very low in the water. A new leak was not something they needed right now, especially with funding as tight as it was. He swore loudly, then ran towards the ship, hoping to assess the damage. Once he was on deck, he could feel the list under his feet. About five degrees and slowly getting worse, he guessed.
He ran forwards, intending to enter from one of the forward access hatches, but he stopped when he noticed something. Leaning against the forward turret was a young woman. At first he was stunned by disbelief. There wasn't supposed to be anyone onboard. The gate had been locked, and she would have had to hop over an eight foot fence topped with barbed wire to even get on the ship. She didn't look like she was in any condition to try that.
She was wearing a blue blouse that matched color exactly with the turret she was leaning against, and a bright red skirt. Her clothes looked worn and faded, like she had worn them for a long time. Her hair was a long, dirty brown that was streaked with gray, which looked out of place against her young face. Her face was buried in her hands, and Eric could see the evidence of tears on her cheeks. Any earlier thoughts of anger towards this girl suddenly vanished. He reached a hand down to place it on her shoulder, then said in a comforting voice, "Hey, come on now. You can't be here." At first she didn't move, so he tried again. Slowly she looked up into his face, eyes red from tears.
She spent several minutes looking at the older man before she said with a weak voice, "You can see me?" The question surprised Eric, what did she mean by that?
"Of course I can see you, why wouldn't I?" She tried to stand, only to trip and fall forwards. Eric managed to catch her before she face planted into the deck. "Whoa, easy there now."
"Not, steady yet, can't feel my hull," she muttered.
"What? Wait, who are you?" Eric asked, not understanding the ramblings of this girl, at all.
"I'm Texas, I'm-I'm the ship," she said, stammering as she started to cry once more. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the larger man. "I popped another seam. I think its's too big to fix this time." Eric just stood there in stunned silence, holding onto the girl as his brain tried to process what she was telling him. "But I can't feel that anymore, all I can feel is me, and you."
"If you're Texas," he finally said, "Where did you come from?"
"Newport, I was built in Newport. I remember that, and my sister. York was so happy to have a little sister," her face took on a wistful expression as she remembered that. A loud groan from the hull reminded Eric of what was happening beneath his feet.
"Come on," he said, I need to call my superior about this. You can tell me some more, and I can get you some food."
"Ok-okay," she muttered. She remained wrapped around him as he started walking towards the gangplank. She stopped hesitantly as the approached.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just that, I've never been ashore. Every time I try to step off, I get stuck at the top." Eric was surprised, maybe she was telling the truth?
"Come on, it's not that hard," he said, then dragged her down. She looked stunned when her feet hit the ground. It took him several seconds to drag her into the main office. Then a few more to coax her into a chair. She sat there, looking down at herself, and looking up at him for several minutes. He walked into the breakroom to get her something to eat, then walked into the main office. This whole situation caused him to remember something.
About a month ago, he had gotten a visitor. While Naval officers in full uniform weren't particular rare aboard the battleship, ones wearing the stars of an admiral were. The man had spent almost an hour talking to Eric about something he called ship girls. Explaining that a young looking girl might appear on the ship out of nowhere claiming to be the ship. He had blown the man off at first, thinking that this was just some form of elaborate prank, but now he wasn't so sure. He had left Eric a card, which he now dug out.
Walking back to the lobby with the card in once hand, and his phone in the other, Eric saw that Texas was sitting in a chair, staring at the plate of food in front of her. "Something wrong?"
"It's just that I've never actually eaten food before," she replied with a shy smile.
Eric rolled his eyes, then said, "Just bite, chew, and swallow, not a lot to it." She nodded then forked up a mouthful. He shook his head as he dialed the admiral's phone number. Boy, would he have one story to tell him.
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Took me long enough, but here's the update.
Reviews!:
Colonel AmiruddinArifSulaiman: I'm trying, but main fic takes precedence
.75873: Changed my mind halfway through writing and changed her rank, tried to catch all of them, but guessed I missed one.
Thorthemighty321: Yes they are in big trouble.
FrancisJames: Have to admit never playing or wanting to play Call of Duty. Don't really know what Ranger's going to be like yet though.
F-14 Tomcat Lover: I have other plans for Wasp, and I'm trying to avoid the explosion of my last fic.
Wolfman-053: Well she did, and I'm not sure on that one yet. Trying to avoid Texas(Because I'm an Oklahoma fan, sue me), though I did make Tuscaloosa a Bama fan(And I'm attending Auburn).
Celestia's Paladin: I try, thanks for that.
ijpowers92: Do have plans for Guadalcanal, but again, I'm trying to avoid adding too many characters too quickly.