Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II B by James Young (classic book list .txt) 📗

Jo crossed her arms, then remembered her finger was still bleeding.

“Goddammit,” she said, then realized apparently the pressure had worked. She looked up at Tannehill giving her a faint look of disapproval, even as the two noncoms starting to smile somewhat. Both Marines were broad-shouldered men of average height, their features so nondescript that Jo wondered if she could have picked them out of a line up if they’d actually meant her harm. The one with light, blonde hair was a sergeant whose nametag read Blaesa. The other man, a gunnery sergeant with black hair, was apparently named Longstreet.

“Look, if you’re going to judge me for taking the Lord’s name in vain, you need to hurry up and say whatever you’re going to do and get on your way, Commander,” she snapped. “I assure you, I am a sailor’s daughter, and my father was not exactly the best at raising me in good graces.”

Commander Tannehill almost took a step back before steadying himself.

“Well, I’ll cut to the chase,” he replied. “Would you like to come work for my department at Pearl Harbor?”

Jo raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Commander Tannehill, but your department?”

“Yes, Miss Morton, my department,” he replied. “I assure you it’s nothing sinister, but I am not at liberty to discuss it here standing on your porch.”

So you expect me to let three strange men into my house in the middle of the day? Jo mulled, even as she fought to keep her face serene. Hmm, maybe I should have kept that knife in my hand.

“Josephine, is there something wrong?” Alf Olrik, Patricia and her’s neighbor, asked. The dock worker had come out to stand on his front porch in his overalls, half-eaten sandwich in one hand, a large wrench held oh-so-casually in the other. The two Marine noncoms both noticed the tool and took steps back from behind Commander Tannehill. For his part, Commander Tannehill was looking at Olaf as if a walking, talking bear had just appeared in front of him.

If you think Olaf is big, just wait until you meet either Sam or David. That would require a long plane or boat ride, but still.

“No Alf,” she said. “I believe Commander Tannehill was asking me if I was still interested in working in the stenography section at Pearl Harbor.”

Alf nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Very good,” he said. “Niole has some cookies coming out of the oven. Since you have guests, perhaps it’ll be better if she brings a batch by in about ten minutes?”

I love my neighbors.

“That sounds lovely,” she replied. “I’m sure Commander Tannehill and his men would love some as well.”

“Actually I’m allergic to–” Commander Tannehill started to mutter.

“I’m not allergic to a thing, Miss Morton,” one of the NCOs interrupted him, smiling and nodding at Alf.

Alf gave one more smile and waved the hand full of sandwich at the men, then stepped back inside his house.

You’d all be very scared if you realized he’s left handed, Jo thought. Sure from what I’ve seen when he’s helped us around the house the man is actually ambidextrous, but Alf had every intention of smashing some skulls when he came out here.

“Well, looks like you’ve got ten minutes to explain this work to me, commander,” Jo stated, her voice airy.

Okay, we’re all very lucky that I’m sitting down, or Alf might have come over to find me passed out in the kitchen from shock, Jo thought. She chewed slowly on her sandwich, mulling things over.

“So just to make sure I completely understand, you have out of the blue decided to ask me to work on a very secret project copying information from broken codes? Of which you are also going to go ask my roommate?”

“This is actually hardly out of the blue, Miss Morton,” Commander Tannehill responded. “It should come as no surprise to you that both Miss Cobb and yourself are known to many of the officers on post.”

Jo once more gave Commander Tannehill a look that was best described as suspicious, and once more the officer began growing flustered.

I know most redheads look ten years younger than they actually are, but he really does seem way too inexperienced for his rank.

“What I mean is, when I began asking around for possible nominees for these positions, your names came up several times,” Commander Tannehill said.

“Why us?”

Commander Tannehill was about to answer when there was a knock at the kitchen door. Turning, Jo didn’t immediately see anyone, then looked down and saw a child’s head just barely poking above the window.

“Excuse me for a moment, but I believe those are cookies,” Jo stated. She opened the door to reveal Anya, the youngest Olrik daughter. The precocious five-year-old was holding a plate of what appeared to be chocolate chip cookies, and immediately began speaking with great urgency.

“Mama said to come over here and hand you these cookies,” the little girl said. “I was also supposed to make sure no one was hurting you.”

Jo heard Gunnery Sergeant Longstreet guffaw behind her as she too began to smile. Leaning down, she took the cookies and kneeled down to look Anya in the face.

“I don’t think you were supposed to tell me the last part,” she whispered. Anya’s eyes grew wide as Jo held her finger up to her mouth in a shushing motion.

“Tell your mother I’ll be over for dinner later, and thank you for the cookies,” Jo said, then took the plate. Patting Anya on the shoulder, Jo barely avoided letting out a giggle. “I’ll see you later, and I’ll bring a book with me.”

Anya’s eyes brightened at that, and she quickly tore off back towards her house.

“You certainly seem to have a good relationship with your neighbors,” Commander Tannehill observed.

“You have no idea,” Jo said, grinning as she put the cookie plate down on the table. “They’re really good kids, and Niole brings them by the library all the time.”

Longstreet stepped forward and