having my men and women face it alone not when I can be out there with
them. If there’s going to be some shit hitting the fan over this, it’s
going to have to go through me to get to them. They’re all good
pilots, every last one of them, and they don’t deserve to put up with
the political bullshit that’s going to be falling out from this.
That’s why I need to be there. I’m a shit shield, if it comes down to
that in the aftermath.”
Tombstone’s face looked hard, weary. He was making sense. Batman had
to admit, but not in a way he’d ever heard a three-star make sense
before. They both knew that fighting a war and winning it tactically
was only half the solution. It was the news reporting and diplomatic
interpretation of the battle afterward that really made American
foreign policy. But still, was the solution to risk a senior officer
on a swan-song combat flight? He didn’t think so.
Tombstone took a step closer to him. “I’m retiring after this tour.
Batman. I’ve got three stars now, three more than I ever planned
on.”
His voice took on a wistful note. “All I ever wanted to do was fly.
The promotions, commanding a carrier battle group that was the
pinnacle.
There’s just more paperwork, more D.C. tours after this. I’m going to
punch out while it’s still fun.”
“But Tombstone, there are other operational commands.
And there’s always JCS.” Batman struggled to find more arguments to
present to his old lead.
“Not for me.” Tombstone’s voice and face suddenly lightened, as though
some terrible tension had been released inside of him. “This is it-one
final mission, putting it on the line one last time and hopefully doing
some good for this country. I owe the country that and you owe me an
aircraft.”
Batman’s throat seemed to close up slightly. “What’s your mission?”
“bda bomb damage assessment. We need a firsthand look at it, from
somebody who’s got enough background to know what they’re seeing. And
those missile launchers hell, these pilots are all too young to have
seen the real thing. You and I would know what they were.”
“I’ll go with you.” Batman was surprised to find how exciting the
prospect was. to be back in the air, to feel the smooth surge of twin
engines pounding under his butt, facing off against the adversary in a
nimble, deadly fighter he wanted it, too.
“You can’t. Someone has to stay in command here.” What might have
been a smile tugged at the corners of Tombstone’s mouth. “And I’m
senior, buddy. This is your battle group you stay here and command it
like I had to do in the Spratlys. I’ll go out and get the BDA, help us
plan our next move.”
“Damn it. Tombstone oh, all right. But you’ll need a backseater.”
Batman’s eyes looked unfocused as he considered the roster of naval
flight officers on his staff.
“I’ll go,” a quiet, feminine voice said. Both men turned and stared at
the small figure standing a foot away from them.
“Eavesdropping, Commander?” Batman said harshly.
“Not a good way to get off to a good start with your new battle group
commander.”
She met his angry gaze levelly. “No, it’s not. Just about as bad a
way as letting a three-star admiral fly off this boat without the best
damned backseater available going with him. Do you know what happens
to this grandiose plan if he gets shot down and killed? All of this
self-serving bullshit is for nothing and you’re left facing the long
green table.”
“Better to be judged by three than carried by six,” Batman said.
“Better if neither happens. If Tombstone’s taking a Tomcat on a strike
or recon mission, I’m going with him.
We’ve flown together before, and I know how he thinks. I might be able
to keep him alive when no one else can.” Her voice was firm and
insistent.
“Following that logic, I ought to be on his wing,” Batman countered.
“The admiral already shot down that idea,” she pointed out. “And he’s
absolutely right your place is here with the battle group. Not for