Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II B by James Young (story reading txt) 📕

“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