Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II B James Young (read out loud books .TXT) 📖

Ensign Van Horn looked up as Isoro came back. The two men gripping him by his shoulders stiffened but allowed the motion. Gagged, the young man looked like he was trying to say something, but was stopped as Yuta's voice rang out over the destroyer's stern.

"Gentlemen, the captain has directed that you are to be executed as enemies of His Majesty," Yuta stated simply. Even as the words were registering, the Yuta's katana was drawn in a flashing arc from its scabbard. Isoro saw that the sword looked like a true ancestral weapon, not the mass produced swords issued to Imperial officers upon their commissioning.

I hope your ancestors are looking upon you with shame and anger right now.

Van Horn looked at Yuta's blade, then back at Isoro, his eyes wide as he tried to scream something past the gag in his mouth. Yuta, giving one last glance at Isoro, gestured to the two men behind the young officer. For a brief moment, the American's eyes met Isoro's, then the man was bent over double and the sword was flashing downwards.

For all of his faults, at least he is a decent swordsman, Isoro noted.

The ace felt a strange sense of detachment as Ensign Van Horn's head rolled across the deck. Hoping it was only a trick of his mind, Isoro swore he saw the American's eyes blink once. Then one of the Akigumo’s sailors kicked his skull into the ocean. The young man's body followed shortly thereafter.

The remaining executions only took a matter of minutes. Only one American, the pinky-less gunner, struggled. For his troubles, Yuta eviscerated the gunner rather than option for decapitation. Even gutted, the man attempted to loop his leg around that of one of his captors as they hurled him over the side.

That is a man I hope none of us see in the afterlife. For he will truly walk through the entirety of Hell to challenge us all again.

The last to die was Commander Jacobs, his lips moving in prayer. Unlike the others, his body was not immediately tossed over the side so that Yuta could wipe his blade on the dead man's uniform. That clean up done, he gestured and had Jacobs' body committed to the gathered sharks behind the vessel.

"Damn fish are probably going to be ungrateful if we end up in the water later," Yuta observed haughtily, a slight sweat on his brow. Isoro did not respond, watching as the Akigumo's crew began to swab the blood off the deck.

"You are displeased, Isoro," Yuta stated.

"That was unnecessary," Isoro replied, barely restraining his anger.

"So was pulling you out of the water," Yuta said ominously. "But we did it just the same."

Isoro considered his classmate for a moment.

"Tell me, is it because I question your actions that you equate rescuing me with murder," Isoro asked. "Or because you lack the opportunity for honorable combat and it bothers you a great deal?"

Yuta's face paled, and Isoro saw him grip his sword handle tightly.

"Come now, what's one more unarmed man to add to your tally?" Isoro asked, not even bothering to lower his voice. "What an amazing warrior your men must think you are."

"Perhaps you should go below, Honda," Yuta replied. "We will notify you when we are about to rendezvous with the Akagi."

I have pressed my luck far enough.

Not bothering to bow, he turned to a nearby sailor.

"Could you please show me to the wardroom?" he asked, noting several eyes upon him.

"At once, sir," the sailor replied, bowing. As he walked forward, Isoro peered at the cloud of smoke from Shokaku.

It appears to be lightening. And getting thinner. Is she putting her fires out? Will that matter?

The size and ferocity of a fire that gave off that much smoke almost certainly meant Shokaku's flight deck had been severely burned and damaged. If the carrier could not fly aircraft, she was little more than a target.

Still, a target that causes the Americans to split their fire has its purposes.

He pushed such thoughts from his head as he entered the Akigumo's small wardroom. The other rescued fighter pilots engaged in animated conversation. They all stopped and looked at him, and Isoro realized he didn't recognize a single one of them.

Attrition is grinding us to dust.

His still sodden flight gear and life jacket seemed to double in weight.

"Lieutenant Honda, please join us," one of the sitting pilots stated reverently. Isoro nodded and started forward into the compartment. It was only he who realized each step felt as if it was leading to a last communal meal before the gallows.

Blue One

1035 Local (0105 Eastern)

"For the love of God, hurry up and land you stupid motherfuckers!" Brown shouted from the Dauntless’ rear seat.

While he was not as vocal (or blasphemous) in his anger as Brown was, Eric could feel his own pulse starting to throb in his temples.

Man, I would hate to see what would be happening right now if we'd made this strike at extended range

Eric put the dive bomber into a gentle turn, beginning yet another wide orbit around the Yorktown. His fuel situation wasn't horrid, but it certainly wasn't getting any better the longer they waited.

"Sir, do you know why we're taking aboard the Bonhomme Richard's dive bombers?" Brown asked, his voice incredulous. Eric shrugged, then realized his gunner couldn't see the gesture.

I'm more punch drunk than I thought.

"I don't know what the hell the staff has planned," Eric said. "I just know that the fighters seem to all be heading for Independence and Bonhomme Richard while the dive bombers and torps are splitting between us and Enterprise."

Probably didn't help this recovery cycle when the torpedo bombers have crash landings. They got the shit shot out of them.

Brown and he had watched three additional Avengers land, get assessed, then be immediately shoved over the Yorktown's side alone. Judging from the signaling and chatter, at least one or two more had also