Legends

Chapter 27~ Suffering is Thy Name, Admiral Cunningham

In the Second World War, Greenock Scotland had been the drop of point for thousands of American GI's transported by converted ocean liners. The Abyssal War demanded no less of the town although instead of troops, it was all supplies. And a ship the size of United States delivered a lot of it. Cunningham had his back to his window and the harbor but Hood, serving on light duty until the repair ships could finish fixing her broken condensers, grinned at what she was seeing. "Admiral." She directed his attention outside.

Cunningham opened his window and looked out, hearing angry voices wafting across the bay. "...ME DOWN! I AM A CRUISER IN HER MAJESTY'S ROYAL NAVY! AND I REFUSE TO BE TREATED LIKE SOME KIND OF PET!!" That could only be Curacoa. He had never heard the cruiser sound so hot tempered. The reason for her anger was quickly revealed as United States slipped through the submarine net and into the harbor. She was carrying Curacoa under her arm.

Cunningham groaned and pressed his palm to his face while Hood merely sighed, rising to her feet and exiting the room. The Admiral glared at the chaos that was now occurring. Curacoa had gone from grumbling to shouting out curses at her captor that were most certainly not anatomically feasible. Ledbury and Penn were shooing away any curious lookies who got too close. Branham was conversing with the shipgirl manning the submarine nets. And Campbeltown was taking picture after picture on her phone, most assuredly uploading them to various social media sites.

"What gods did I offend to deserve this?" Cunningham moaned, sighing in relief when Hood appeared. The battlecruiser was stalking down the docks towards the mess. Hopefully she could talk some sense into the big American.

Hood for her part was torn between rolling her eyes and laughing. She felt she knew why the Yank had taken Curacoa "hostage" like she had. She was tempted to do the same thing with Campbeltown but refrained, knowing the mad destroyer would redo Bismarck's handiwork and blow her stern off, again.

United States spotted Hood almost as soon as she came outside. Unlike the other ocean liners, she had been built with radar and the set she possessed now, courtesy of a refit in Boston, was a favorite tool. With her free arm, she waved at Hood who returned the gesture seeing no reason to be rude. Her own 284 warning set had nothing on United States' SPY-6 but the Yank saw no need to compare just yet.

"SS United States," the battlecruiser began, halting at the edge of the dock. With her rigging out of commission for the time being she did not dare attempt to jump into the water. "Please let go of Curacoa."

"But she's so cute!" United States pouted while Curacoa harrumphed. "For the last time I am not cute! Destroyers are cute. I am a..." "A destroyer." United States finished.

Hood pressed her fingers to her bridge. She felt an ache building up in her conning tower. "Just- okay you need both hands to eat right? I'm assuming you must be hungry."

United States' bunkers betrayed her in that moment, issuing a loud growl to let her know how painfully empty they were. The liner blushed and nodded, reluctantly letting go of Curacoa who dropped out of her grip and would've sunk if she hadn't deployed her rigging at the last second. She glared at Hood who was struggling to keep a straight face. "Not a word." She hissed to her as she climbed out onto the dock.

As the liner made a beeline for the mess hall, Hood grinned at her fleetmate, discreetly slipping her phone into her pocket. No she would not say a word. But pictures more than made up for it.

After Curacoa left, Campbeltown spotted Hood and the two shared a conspiratorial wink. In his office Cunningham felt the urge to dive for his liquor cabinet.