Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II Book 3)

by James Young

  Both Sam and David looked at one another, then at the two women with mutually wide eyes.

  “I wrote every day before we came out here,” Sam said. “Hell, I’ve got letters for you both back at the squadron.”

  “You’re the first people Sadie and I wrote with the news,” David said.

  “What news?” Patricia asked, looking at them both.

  Sam started laughing.

  “Sadie and I are pregnant,” David said. “You’re going to be an aunt, Patricia.”

  Patricia looked at her brother.

  An aunt? I’m too young to be an…wait, really?

  Her face broke into a slight smile, then a broad grin as David looked goofily back at her.

  “Sorry Jo, you’ll just have to be an ‘aunt,’” Sam stated, making air quotations that led to a dirty look from both Patricia and Jo.

  “Has it ever crossed your mind that I might enjoy just being the person who buys this child random gifts during the year?” Jo replied, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Aunt sounds so stuffy, so formal.”

  Patricia rolled her eyes as she sat down at the table.

  “Don’t rain on my parade, Josephine Morton,” she chided happily. “So are you guys going to actually sit down or just look in our kitchen?”

  Sam and David looked at each other.

  “Actually we’ll stand,” they both said in unison.

  “Stop it,” Jo said, her smile belying any indication that she may be actually annoyed. “You know I hate it when you two do that.”

  Both men smiled mischievously.

  “Anyway, why are you even here?” Patricia asked. “I thought you were both being forced to convince people to pay for the war?”

  “We were,” Sam said, making the face of someone who had just been reminded of an unpleasant chore.

  “Then someone here asked a random officer to get us assigned to his squadron,” David said. “Three guesses as to who would do something like that.”

  Jo looked at Sam with worry on her face.

  “You mean, you had a chance to spend a few weeks not getting shot at and you talked your way out of it?”

  Patricia saw a number of emotions cross over Sam’s face as Jo continued to glare at him.

  “It wasn’t like that exactly…” Sam began, holding up his hands defensively.

  “That is a lie, Sam Cobb,” David snapped. “Major Haynes was enjoying a nice dinner with Nora and you completely invited yourself to their date.”

  “You make it sound like I stepped right up and just started taking food off their plates, David,” Sam said. “I merely asked him if he could use a pair of experienced pilots.”

  Patricia watched Jo’s face throughout the entire exchange.

  I’ve only read about volcanoes in books. But if Vesuvius looked the day before the eruption like Jo looks right now, every single one of those people in Pompeii deserved to die for not paying attention. Patricia leaned forward in nervous anticipation of what was coming.

  “Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself, Sam?” Jo asked, her tone clipped. “Just kinda, maybe, sorta consider the feelings of people around you rather than whatever impulse just pops into your fool head?”

  Sam looked at Jo, his expression hard.

  “In case you haven’t heard, there’s a war on,” he said lowly.

  “Hadn’t noticed,” Jo replied, adopting an expression of mock shock. “Oh, wait, there’s a lieutenant who your sister’s been pining over that hasn’t been around for a few weeks. So, yeah, I guess I remember something about a war being on.”

  Uh oh. The vein in Sam’s temple was starting to throb.

  “I was thinking the dead bodies piling up amongst our friends might be a clue as well,” Sam replied coldly. “Or has your Uncle K and Peter been by since we’ve been gone?”

  There was a stunned silence in the kitchen. Patricia stood from where she’d sat down.

  That was utterly unacceptable.

  Patricia saw Jo’s mouth working but nothing coming out.

  “Get out, Sam,” Patricia snapped.

  “You’re going to kick your own brother out, Patricia?” David asked.

  “Yes. I believe I’ve done it before.”

  “Jo started it,” David said evenly. “I didn’t agree with what Sam just said, but I understand why he did it.”

  “And why was that, David?” Jo asked angrily. “Wanted to make Sadie a rich widow?”

  David glared at Jo, then turned back to Patricia as if to say ‘See?!’

  “We were going crazy on the tour. Did you really want us to have to relearn how to fly after the Navy decided we’d made them enough money?”

  “I mean, our squadron commander is only the deadliest American pilot in history,” Sam chimed. “Not like we just decided to fly with some random bunch of yahoos.”

  “Wait, what?” Jo asked.

  “Major Haynes tied Rickenbacker’s kill total a couple nights ago,” David explained.

  “How in the Hell did he tie Rickenbacker’s record?” Jo asked. “Did you guys take a side tour to Tokyo over the last couple of days or something?”

  “That’s not important,” Sam said, brushing aside the question. “The fact of the matter is, we both agreed that if anyone has a chance to get out of this war alive, it’s Major Haynes.”

  “Even if he can’t find a carrier,” David muttered, causing Sam to shake his head.

  “So no, neither one of us are glory hounds or bounty seekers,” Sam continued. “We’re trying to figure out how to get onboard with the best man possible.”

  “Plus he’s not going to try to split us up like seemingly everyone else wants to,” David added.

  “That’s called safety, David,” Patricia said. “Safety, you know the kind of thing you guys should try out once in awhile.”

  “How is it safe to split us up?” David asked. “We’re both the best wingman the other one has ever had and ever will have.”

  “Look, there’s no safe place in this war,” Sam broke in. “Hell, for all we know, the Japanese could show back up here tomorrow.”

  Actually, two of us in this room can tell you that’s highly unlikely.

  Patricia fought hard not to look over at Jo.

  “Yes, but they’re a lot less likely to show up in Seattle, Sam,” Jo retorted.

  Patricia sighed, causing them all to turn to her.

  “Enough arguing,” she stated. “What’s done is done, and I don’t think you guys came to visit us to get read the riot act. How long are you on liberty?”

  “Two days,” Sam and David said in unison.

  “We have to work tomorrow,” Patricia said. “You both know how the foldout couch works, and I promise I’ll make you Mom’s pancakes when you get up.”

  Patricia could tell from the long, strained silence of the first fifteen minutes of their walk to work that something was eating at Jo. The click clack of their heels on the sidewalk seemed to beat a steady increasing pressure.

  I can’t take it anymore.

  “Why is it that you and I are thick as thieves for weeks, months even,” she began, “but the minute my brothers show up, we’re at each other’s throats?”

  “Because for some unknown reason you seem utterly convinced you have any say in which of your brothers, if any, I fuck,” Jo snapped.

  Patricia gasped at Jo’s directness.

  “Then there’s the fact you also try to mother the shit out of them,” Jo continued, her swearing drawing a disapproving look from a woman walking past them.

  “I don’t think swearing is necessary, Jo,” Patricia said angrily.

  “I also think you must have a very low opinion of me if you think I’m going to complicate your family by having sex with Sam,” Jo replied. “For God’s sake Patricia, he and I are friends. Friends”

  “But…”

  “But we flirt? Talk to each other like a couple? Are utterly comfortable with one another in a way that most husbands and wives never achieve?”


  Well, I see that I’ve struck a nerve.

  “Yes, all true,” her roommate continued. “But I’m smart enough to know that Sam, out of all your brothers, is an absolute coward when it comes to commitment.”

  “What?” Patricia asked, aghast.

  “I did not stutter,” Jo replied. “If you asked that man to fly to Tokyo right now, he’d do it. If you asked him to run into a blazing building to pull out women and children, same.”

  Oh dear, she’s crying, Patricia realized, seeing the glistening in Jo’s eyes.

  “But boy howdy, ask him to put in the work that people have to in order to really make a relationship work, and he turns more yellow than a bunch of bananas,” Jo observed bitterly. “This is known, and I realized it a long time ago before you even came out here.”

  They made the last turn toward the back access gate and Jo stopped for a moment to dig in her purse for a handkerchief. Quickly dabbing her eyes and checking her appearance, Jo then looked at Patricia.

  “So please, for the sake of our friendship, don’t think that I’m going to sneak out to the damn couch, grab your brother, and seduce him,” Jo said. “Quite frankly, even though we haven’t gotten mail in forever, I think I care about Eric too much to do that to him. I know I love you and the rest of your family like the one I never had.”

  Wait, what?

  Jo had been so matter-of-fact about her emotions that Patricia wasn’t sure she heard her correctly. The other woman plowed on, not even pausing.

  “With God as my witness, I will deny ever saying any of this if you tell another living soul. I will also kick you out of our house so fast it will make your head spin.”

  Oh Josephine Morton, you know how to keep people off balance.

  “I don’t know what to say, Jo.”

  “You can start with, ‘I’m sorry,’ as Sam was scared to even hug me goodbye this morning,” Jo replied. “I miss that man’s hugs.”

  Patricia shook her head.

  “I don’t think my mother would know what to do with you if you did marry one of my brothers,” she observed.

  “Judging from what you do with the kitchen knives, she’d probably try to stab me,” Jo stated. Then once again Patricia could tell the wheels were working.

  “So last night we established that the boys have been writing us, but we haven’t gotten any of their letters,” Jo said. “Now that I think about it, when was the last time you heard from your mother?”

  Going to have to think about that one, Patricia realized.

  “No matter, let’s get inside and see what puzzles await us today,” Jo stated.

  The two of them passed through the access gate, making small talk with the guards as always. Commander Tannehill had informed them the side gate was only for a few select personnel, the better to avoid getting caught in the crush of humanity that was the coming and goings of various vessel crews. The departure of the Rodney, Nelson, and Maryland along with a couple of escort carriers had reduced the sheer number of personnel on Oahu, but Pearl Harbor was still a very crowded place dominated by young men. Patricia was well aware of the eyes that followed her and Jo as they walked towards their work, just as she appreciated the shore patrol that very conspicuously walked thirty yards behind them.

  Been a few weeks since some idiot groped an admiral’s daughter. While I think that was a one off, the shore patrol putting a couple people in the hospital afterwards sure has retaught some manners.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Gunnery Sergeant Longstreet said as they came through the door. He stood up to make a perfunctory check of their identification, eyes narrowing as he saw Jo’s puffy eyes.

  That man is entirely too observant.

  Longstreet did not say anything, however, as he turned and pulled a keychain from around his neck. Pressing the intercom buzzer, he spoke into the speaker.

  “Two on their way down,” he stated. “The Songbirds.”

  I will never understand why Commander Tannehill is so paranoid about security. Jo and she had very pointedly not told either Sam or David that they were no longer working at their previous jobs. It seemed such a silly thing, but Commander Tannehill had been quite adamant that no one could know what they did.

  I mean, anyone telling my brothers we’re known as ‘songbirds’ will have them both wondering if we’re operating without ‘visible means of support.’

  The idiocy of that concern elicited a nervous titter from her that caused Longstreet and Jo to both give her a look.

  “I’m not cracking up,” she said, then explained her thought. Longstreet guffawed while Jo just shook her head with a smile.

  “Whether or not your marbles are about to roll down this hallway is up for debate,” Jo replied, stepping into the car. The doors closed behind them, the elevator descending rapidly into the bunker below.

  “God I hate the smell of new paint,” Jo muttered. The entire facility, at least according to Commander Tannehill, was brand spanking new. When Great Britain had fallen, the Germans, and thus the Japanese, had become aware that the United States had broken their codes. Although almost certainly the flight of paranoia, this had caused the previous Pacific Fleet G-2 to recommend the codebreaking section and most other intelligence functions be moved to a different building. Everyone had laughed at the man, right up until the Japanese had shown up and kicked the Pacific Fleet’s ass back in March.

  Too bad he apparently died on the Arizona. He appeared to have a better grasp of the Japanese than just about anyone else.

  The doors opened to reveal Commander Tannehill standing waiting for them.

  Are we late?

  Patricia looked towards the clock on the far side of the room.

  “I need to ask if either of you are prone to fainting spells or bouts of hysteria,” Commander Tannehill said crisply without preamble.

  “Well good morning to you as well, sir,” Jo replied with a wave. The officer’s severe countenance did not waiver as he turned to look at her, then Patricia.

  “I do not think I will require a couch or sedative anytime soon, no,” Patricia replied cautiously. “Why are you concerned?”

  Tannehill sighed in relief.

  “The map in the next room has been updated,” he replied. “I know from both of your files that the Indian Ocean has suddenly become of interest to you.”

  With that, he led them through the doorway into the Pacific Fleet G-2’s main mapboard.

  “Well shit,” Jo said, looking up at the board. Patricia looked also, seeing a “FLETCHER” pinned on an arrow that appeared to be several hundred miles east of Africa. Another, this one painted in British blue and labeled CUNNINGHAM seemed to be in the middle of the Indian Ocean pointed north.

  “It’s unbecoming of a lady to swear, Josephine,” Commander Tannehill said.

  “Commander, my father has not broken me of the habit despite the aggressive use of a soap bar when I was seventeen,” Jo replied. “My roommate has not had any success despite attempting to be the mother I haven’t had in over a decade.”

  Tannehill sighed.

  “I suppose reminding you I am your superior and boss will merely earn myself a further demonstration of your vulgar vocabulary, won’t it?”

  “Make you a deal,” Jo said, looking at the map with obvious concern on her face. “You tell us what that scarlet arrow labeled ‘KB’ south of Ceylon is, and I’ll never swear in this office again.”

  She’s lying. Or at the very least, hedging her bets.

  Patricia was unsurprised that Tannehill, but not Longstreet, missed out on Jo’s obvious gambit.

  “That is what the Japanese have termed the Kido Butai, their name for what we’d call the First Air Fleet.”

  “Uh, sir…” an ensign said, whipping his head around.

  “Yes, Ensign Moldavus, clearly the fact Miss Morton and Miss Cobb have been here for two days means they are so dire a threat to security I cannot say the words Kido Butai in front of them,” Tannehill snapped. “A name
that has been being trumpeted by radio broadcasts from our friends in Tokyo for almost five months now, I might add.”

  The younger officer stiffened at the rebuke, but wisely turned back to his task.

  Horribly nervous around women, damn near overbearing with subordinates. Commander Tannehill is somewhat of an enigma.

  “In any case, as I believe it will help you with your pattern analysis, the British believe their aircraft on Ceylon engaged the Japanese fleet yesterday,” Tannehill said. “They are also certain that the aircraft in question damaged one of the Japanese carriers.”

  “This is good news,” Jo observed. “Why would we faint at good news?”

  “Because if that is the main Japanese fleet, it means Vice Admiral Fletcher is about to engage them in two days.” Tannehill replied, his tone funereal. “It also means the British had better not tarry where they’ve been refueling in the south, or he’ll do so facing four carriers with his two.”

  Jo visibly swallowed, and Patricia felt her own stomach do a flip flop. Her roommate took a step back from the map, nervously clasping her hands together like she’d seen a horrible specter.

  “Are you okay, Miss Morton?” Tannehill asked. Patricia could see that her friend was just shaken, but could understand why Tannehill would be worried.

  I’m certain I look like the finest white sheet bleach can buy myself. So it’s understandable Jo looks there’s a possible tie between her breakfast ending up in that trash can or her running shrieking to the lady’s room.

  “Can…” Jo asked thickly, then swallowed hard. “Can Vice Admiral Fletcher wait for the British?”

  “Depends on how attached Admiral Hart feels he should be to Ceylon,” Tannehill replied. “I don’t know that I’d consider a crown possession, even one that was responsible for so much rubber, worth Enterprise and Yorktown.”

  I.J.N.S. Akagi

  1000 Local (0030 Eastern)

  400 Miles Northeast of Addu Atoll

  Indian Ocean

  9 August

  The Kido Butai, three hundred miles southwest of where a misguided American intelligence officer believed it to be, was about to spring an elaborate trap.

  “Sir, Tone No. 4 reports a contact.”