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Over the past few days, Tormolen and the Manchester had gotten acclimated to each other. Captain Stark was well-liked as well as respected, and - in these odd circumstances - that helped Tormolen's assimilation go more smoothly. Everyone aboard not only knew that his presence was temporary, but that he had been Stark's choice. Coupled with the fact that many of the crew remembered Tormolen from his stay a few months ago at Midway, and it was quite possibly the smoothest transition in Navy history.

Naturally, there were still some rough spots. Tormolen had never held a command before. His last two promotions had come from shore duty; he'd left the command track while still a Lt. Commander - first to the Bureau of Construction and Repair (which became the Bureau of Ships), then to Admiral Halsey's staff. He wasn't used to the nigh-absolute power a captain wielded aboard his ship. It was a heady experience, checked only by the nigh-absolute responsibility that accompanied it.

That was fine in the abstract. On a more concrete level, Tormolen was finally feeling like he belonged at the conn of the Manchester. The crew responded instantly to his commands, and his officers promptly (but respectfully) let him know when he was about to make a mistake. Most importantly, they had developed a very high level of respect and trust that let them work together virtually seamlessly.

But the grace period Admiral Halsey had granted the ship was over. They'd had their "shakedown," and now were expected to resume their duties as a fully-functional warship in the United States Navy.

(Original ending goes here)

At the thought of Admiral Halsey, Tormolen found his eyes drawn out the bridge window, to the Enterprise. Halsey himself had sailed down from Noumea on the Big E. He had tried commanding from the rear, and didn't care for it. So now he was where he had to be - right in the thick of things.

Then Tormolen re-read the dispatch they'd received a couple of hours ago. Last night, Admiral Callaghan had led most of his screening force into the Slot to intercept the Japanese. Two heavy cruisers, three light cruisers, and eight destroyers had challenged the Japanese in the dark, where the enemy had a decided advantage.

And they'd won.

Callaghan most likely wasn't expecting the Japanese to send a battleship into the crowded waters of the Slot, but they had. And his forces had not fled from the challenge. They sank one destroyer and took enough of a chunk out of the battleship - it was, apparently, one of the four Kongo-class vessels originally built as battlecruisers, but refitted and reclassified into a full-fledged battleship - that when morning came, aircraft from the Enterprise and Guadalcanal's Henderson Field had finished her off. And the supplies the battlewagon had been escorting never landed.

But at one hell of a price.

It was still unclear exactly how many American ships had been sunk and how many had been crippled, but only one cruiser and one destroyer were still reporting as fit for duty. And Admiral Callaghan was confirmed among the dead.

The Japanese had been stopped last night, but it had taken nearly everything the Americans could throw at them. If they tried it again, it would be hard - Halsey's cupboard was almost bare.

The words of the ancient Greek general Pyrrhus came to mind. "Another victory like this one, and I am undone."

(End Part III)

(Original ending of Part III)

And their first challenge was tonight. The Japanese had been steadily reinforcing Guadalcanal with what had become known as the "Tokyo Express." Every night, it seemed, Japanese destroyers and other fast ships would race down the Slot, dump cargo and reinforcements into the ocean off Guadalcanal, then race for home. In the daytime, the Americans did just the opposite.

This mirrored perfectly the tactical situation: the Americans controlled the daylight hours, thanks to having air superiority. But at night, when the planes were grounded, the Japanese - who had spent years and years perfecting the art of night-fighting - ruled.

That situation had led to turning Guadalcanal into a 2500-square-mile meat grinder.

Tonight, though, the Americans would be looking to break the cycle.

Admiral Callaghan would be leading a force of two heavy cruisers, four light cruisers, and eight destroyers into the deadly waters north of Guadalcanal in hopes of surprising the Japanese. If the Americans had any luck, they would put enough of a hurting on the Japanese to slow down the constant resupply of their forces on Guadalcanal, and give the Americans the chance to get ahead.

While keeping a confident, resolute façade for his crew, Tormolen had his doubts about the Manchester's effectiveness in the fight. She had never been intended to face other surface ships, and certainly not at night. On the other hand, she was sailing alongside the Atlanta and the Juneau. The Manchester had been designed as an enlarged version of those ships. If Callaghan thought those ships were suitable for the battle, then the Manchester was even more so. And while the Manchester's 5" guns were relatively small, she still had a truly formidable punch - she could fire almost a ton of shells on her broadside every four seconds or so. Over a minute, that gave her - at least on paper - the power of a battleship.

Of course, that was on paper. In practice, it didn't work out quite as well. A dozen five-inch shells hitting in the same spot didn't have anywhere near the destructive potential of a single fourteen-inch battleship shell.

Luckily, the Japanese had been relying not on battleships, but on destroyers and cruisers - and they were much more thin-skinned than battleships. Against those, the Manchester's guns could wreak considerable havoc.

As the sun neared the horizon, Tormolen ordered the Manchester into formation. Callaghan had split his forces into three elements - four destroyers in the van, the six cruisers in the middle, and the remaining four destroyers bringing up the rear. The Manchester was last in line for cruisers, trailing the Juneau.

Tormolen also questioned Callaghan's deployment. Tormolen had had a little experience with the new SG radar that was being phased in, and was mightily impressed. Five of the ships in the group were equipped with it, but all were assigned to the rear half. It seemed as if Callaghan either didn't understand or didn't trust the new radar, and was preferring to rely on the older SC systems that the ships he'd chosen to lead the group were using.

But Tormolen kept his concerns to himself. He was not only the newest member of the task force, he had only held command for a few days. He wasn't on Bull Halsey's staff any more, where dissent was not only tolerated, but actively solicited. He was the captain of one ship in a task force, and the most junior at that. Once he had a battle or two under his belt, he'd feel more comfortable raising his voice.

The Manchester slid easily into formation, off the Juneau's stern. From the rear, the similarities between the two ships was apparent. Tormolen studied the three-tiered 5" guns on the stern that had inspired the design of the Manchester and marveled. He'd spent many an hour poring over the plans for the Juneau (well, technically, her sister, the Atlanta, four ships ahead in the formation), working out how to enlarge her into an even more formidable platform. The final design for the Manchester was 100 feet longer, 10 feet wider, and 4,000 tons heavier, but he'd added another four turrets on the beams, increasing the firepower by 50% over the Atlantas. He recalled the aphorism he'd tossed at his staff while they tried to squeeze every single gun they could on the Manchester - "nothing succeeds like excess."

They'd taken his words to heart, and the Manchester turned into a veritable porcupine, with gun barrels sprouting out of almost every inch of deck. And she'd shown the value of those guns at Midway, when she'd shot down nearly every attacking Japanese plane that had ventured near, earning the nickname "The Flyswatter."

Unfortunately, enough had managed to drop their payloads in time to cripple the Manchester's charge, the Yorktown, and leave her vulnerable to the Japanese submarine that had finished her off, but the crew had taken that failing as a challenge. Their already-superb marksmanship had gotten even better, the lookouts even sharper-eyed, and the radar operators even more perceptive. Tormolen almost pitied the next Japanese pilot unfortunate enough to fly into the range of the Manchester's guns.

Tonight, though, she wouldn't be facing planes. The Manchester's five-inch guns were officially rated as "dual-purpose," meaning they were considered effective both against aircraft and ships. Tonight, the latter part of that designation would be put to the test.

Tormolen was confident this was a test the Manchester would pass.