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

her cheeks. She’d been hired on as a draftswoman a scant five weeks before. In that time, her previous experience helping a local architect when she was a young teenager had translated well to drawing ship repair plans. That, in turn, had helped the dockyard crews figure out ways to more efficiently repair the Maryland’s damage and likely saved several men’s jobs.
“I think it was a team effort, Admiral Halsey,” her boss, Frances Carter, stated. The short, stocky civilian stood just behind Patricia, his broad bulk straining the coveralls he’d been given. His balding brown hair was plastered with sweat, and his beetle brown eyes were narrowed as he spoke.
I have the urge to shove this man, Patricia thought, controlling her facial expression. Carter had been over her section for less than two weeks, and already Patricia hated the man. Insufferable, chauvinistic, and with a tendency to not watch where his hands were placed, Carter wasted no opportunity in reminding the four women working for him they only had jobs due to the need for the workshop’s men elsewhere.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Halsey observed flatly.
Patricia recognized that tone, having heard it in several meetings. It was a noise as distinctive as a safety being taken off a deer rifle.
Gotta be easier and less painful ways to commit suicide, Patricia thought, then started to smile at one of her brother Nick’s favorite sayings. The youngest Cobb was…somewhere, she had no idea where. The Plunger had left on a war patrol back in May, then not returned to Pearl Harbor.
“Something amusing, Miss Cobb?” Vice Admiral Halsey asked, startling Patricia.
“No sir,” she said quickly. “I was just thinking about my brothers.”
Halsey’s face softened.
“I wish I was out there with them,” the man said grimly. “Any of them.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, her draw thick with emotion. “It means a great deal.”
I’m glad Nick’s fiancée is the Submarine Commander’s secretary, Patricia thought as Vice Admiral Halsey gestured for the Maryland’s captain to lead them on. As I’m pretty sure I’d be the first person she’d tell if the Plunger was overdue.
“Watch your step, Miss Cobb,” her escort, a young ensign, said as she made her way to the gangplank laid to Maryland’s side. Per Halsey’s orders, the battleship’s crew continued with their feverish repairs, doing their part to make sure the battlewagon was ready to sail as soon as possible. Still, the shrill notes of a bosun’s whistle cut through the air as Halsey crossed to the teak deck. Patricia tried to ignore the rather obvious crimson stains near the deck’s edge, their faint outlines making their origins readily apparent.
“Welcome aboard, sir,” Captain David Bursa, Maryland’s current master, stated as he came to attention then saluted. A thin man of average height, Bursa wore the khaki duty uniform of an officer overseeing work rather than the crisp dress whites such a visit would usually entail.
“Thank you, Captain Bursa,” Vice Admiral Halsey replied, returning the salute. “Don’t let us get in the way of anyone’s work.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Bursa replied with a nod.
The next hour was spent crossing up and down decks as Captain Bursa took the party to the areas where Maryland had caught her two torpedoes during the Battle of Hawaii. In both cases, Patricia was amazed at how smoothly the repairs had been added, with the starboard hole being particularly good work.
“She’ll be ready when the time comes, sir,” Bursa finished, discussing the additional modifications that had been made to Maryland’s equipment since she was already in dry dock.
“The time is coming sooner than I’d like,” Halsey replied, running a hand through his hair. Bursa nodded in acknowledgment, realizing his superior was not going to say anything else with Patricia and a couple other civilians present.
Of course, he doesn’t realize that his sailors aren’t quite as circumspect about keeping their mouths shut, she thought. Jo could probably tell us all the exact date the Intrepid is due into port, when the Maryland will be floated out of drydock, or that the King George V and Nelson are expected to arrive from the Panama Canal any day now.
Whether all that information was accurate was, of course, another matter. That it was even being discussed raised Patricia’s hackles.
“Well that’s enough of us being in your hair, David,” Halsey stated. “I will see you at captain’s call tomorrow morning.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Captain Bursa replied. “Ensign Devereaux, if you’d be so kind as to take Mr. Carter and Miss Cobb topside?”
Devereaux nodded, came to attention, and saluted. Captain Bursa and Vice Admiral Halsey both returned the gesture.
Probably want to talk about the state of the hull, Patricia mused.
“If you’ll follow me,” Devereaux said, his tone clearly indicating it was not a request.
The bright Hawaii sunlight actually hurt Patricia’s eyes as they returned to the Maryland’s deck. Blinking away the brightness, she looked down towards Battleship Row…and saw a strange, broad-beamed vessel steaming slowly down the channel towards Ford Island. Patricia did not need to see the large, white ensign fluttering from the warship’s mast to know it was a Commonwealth battleship.
Damn thing looks like an oil tanker, not a battleship. All of its turrets forward like that seems to make no sense. Still, glad to see another battleship.
“Well, looks like the Royal Navy has arrived,” Carter said snidely. “How nice of them to…”
“It would probably be best for everyone if you did not finish that thought, mister,” the ensign said lowly but firmly. Patricia fought to hide a smirk as she heard Carter take in a deep breath as about to argue, only to find the young officer regarding him with a hard set face.
“One of my brothers got to spend some time aboard their vessels,” Patricia observed, studying the new ship intently. “I believe that one’s the Nelson?”
“Or Rodney,” the ensign stated. Patricia could see the man was being purposefully obtuse.
At least someone here understands security.
“How did your brother end up on some Limey ship?” Carter asked derisively. “Is he a damn monarchist like our