alternatehistory.com

Hard to believe it's been almost two weeks. Sorry about that, I just can't work late so many nights and then think through the story and write coherently. I do know the general direction and now have to let the characters live it out. So, a bit of the story might be a bit boring as they get on with this critical work in the back rooms of Portsmouth Naval Base.

I will try to keep up a flow of bits and pieces, though some might be small, just to keep myself up to date on the story. Some of the next few parts will not be very thrilling - really just connectors to put people, places, and things into the story. But I will try to build in enough interest to keep you from falling asleep while reading.

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CHAPTER 2 Part 4: England Expects More....

FOUR

It was dark outside, and Vice Admiral Moore, in flannel pyjamas and housecoat, was settling into an armchair to read before bed. Here in his quarters, his valet and steward took care of his needs and the steward would be taking on the job of helping him get around during working hours. And as weary as he felt, he had a job and it was time to get back to work.

PO MacPherson appeared holding a message form. “It's late, sir, but a messenger just brought this.”

“Thank you. What can be so important at this hour?”

“It's from the Admiralty. Day after tomorrow you and Commander Torrance Smythe are to meet 1stSL at 0930, before going to NID. There's no reason given.”

“Admiral Jackson wants to see Smithy too?”

“Yes, sir. He's named in the signal.”

“Very well. Make note and forward to Smithy. He'll just have to make sure he gets an early train.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“MacPherson, before you go, I would like thank you for all you have done these past few weeks. You've been a tower of strength to me personally as I have gotten more mobile and pulled my household together. And you have been a welcome touchstone to the work of the past two years, indeed to a past life at sea. Now as you go back to working with Smithy and the team on this U-boat menace, I have something to ask you. And I must tell you in advance that I do not need an answer right away.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

“You have more than earned a promotion, afloat and ashore. The choice is yours between CPO now, and likely Warrant Officer soon if you continue on as you have, or to accept His Majesty's Commission – which might very briefly be as Sub-Lieutenant, but your years of service would qualify you as Lieutenant. And after that, who knows?”

“Sir! Thank you. Er.... Thank you for that. I can give you an answer right now....”

“Are you sure? Please know that the offer is open, you can consider which you prefer.”

“Yes, sir. I have, sir. You see, sir, Davy and I, er...I mean CPO Davies and I, sir, have discussed this over pints. Cooper and Jones too for that matter, sir. And, I can't speak officially for the others but we all kind of figure it this way: even admirals, beggin' your pardon, sir, generally respect a Warrant Officer but there are t'ousands and t'ousands of Lieutenants in the RN, and one more risen from the ranks...er...might have a job of work to be recognized on his ability, if I can say it that way. So, sir, my preference would be to continue in the ranks rather than a Commission. If it's up to me, sir.”

“Well said, and I believe a wise choice. I have come to know you well enough that I was fairly sure you would prefer that. Very well, I will advance the matter with the 2nd Lord's office, and get the formalities sorted as soon as I can. There were some details left undone because I wanted to offer you the choice – so please keep it to yourself for a few days.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” MacPherson paused, and cocked his head slightly. “Sir, beggin' your pardon, you're planning to offer the others something the same, aren't you?”

Moore laughed. “Yes, I am. You might as well know, all of you, that your work on FACT was... 'highly meritorious' I believe they call it...and if we have more of that coming then you all may need all the respect and attention you can get.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, and now I must bid you good night. Simkins* is here with my tray and he has the responsibility for my care and feeding so I must not disappoint him.”

“Good night, Admiral.” MacPherson came briefly and unobtrusively to attention, then turned and left.

Settling in with his cup of warm cocoa Moore considered the morrow with its trip to London for the meeting the day following with Blinker Hall to discuss Naval Intelligence. Of course he would see Admiral Jackson if he could elbow his way in...an idea which brought some amusement, for he was on the top of the First Sea Lord's priorities these days.

He was dozing as Simkins returned. “Sir, sir, let's get you to bed for a comfortable sleep. I've had a hot water bottle in it for a while so it'll be nice and cozy. MacPherson warned me that if you fall asleep here in your chair you'll be most uncomfortable all day tomorrow.”

“Very well, Simkins, I do feel my head nodding, and you have a point. Give me a hand, will you.”

Simkins refrained from saying that the aches and pains from falling asleep in the chair would have made Moore a growly bear to deal with all day, and was quite content with holding back his sigh of relief.

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*Fictional steward.