CARRIER 10: ARSENAL By: Keith Douglass

me.

I haven’t relieved Henry yet, so I’ve got no formal role in this

battle. My place as prospective executive officer is anywhere I’m

needed. And right now, that’s in the backseat of his Tomcat.” She

turned to Tombstone and shot him a withering glare. With all due

respect Admiral, this is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard you come up

with. Sir.”

“You’re not going,” Tombstone said. “End of discussion.”

“Why?” she shot back. “Because I’m your wife? Damn it, Admiral

Tombstone I was a helluva fine RIO before I ever met you, and I’ll be a

damned fine one after you retire.

But there’s one thing I won’t be, not at this age a widow.

So if you’ve got good reasons for taking this flight yourself, you can

just count me in. You got that? Sir?” She made a visible effort to

rein in the temper that went with her fiery red hair.

The two admirals looked at each other, each slightly surprised to find

that he’d been outflanked by the diminutive commander. Finally,

acceding to the inevitable. Tombstone shrugged. Batman scowled.

“Well?” Tombstone asked.

“Do I get my aircraft?”

Batman nodded. “And my favorite RIO, as well. Take care of her, you

old son of a bitch. I’ll kill you myself if she gets hurt.”

Tomboy snorted. “If you’ve both just about run the gamut of your

testosterone-laden self-recriminations, could we get on with it? I’ve

got a mission to brief.” She turned smartly, then looked back. “I’ll

be in the Ready Room when you’re ready to go. Admiral. I suppose you

can still find the way by yourself?”

“And I thought the Cubans were getting good at outmaneuvering me,”

Tombstone said wonderingly.

“I need to talk to you alone,” Batman said abruptly. He pointedly

looked away from Tomboy, who shrugged and left immediately.

“What was that about?” Tombstone asked.

“Just something she doesn’t need to know about-hell, I wouldn’t tell you

except that you outrank me and you’re going to be on the front lines

out there. It’s about Arsenal.

She’s carrying UAVs unmanned aerial vehicles.”

Tombstone was stunned. “Since when?”

“Since my last tour in D.C. I’ve still got sources there, Stoney. I

heard about it from a shipmate who took the time to hunt me down last

time I was there. They’re playing this Arsenal program so close to the

chest that need-to-know evidently doesn’t even include me. But you can

count on itshe’s got them on board.”

UAVs one of the cheapest, most cost-effective assets in development.

Tombstone had seen a few test films, had been impressed by the

weaponeering and intelligence potential in them. Yet sadly, the

program languished. Despite its tremendous benefits to all the

services, there simply wasn’t enough money involved to garner the

political support to keep it funded.

At least not most of it. Evidently someone in Washington drew enough

water to get them put on board the USS Arsenal.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tombstone said. “Though I don’t know that

it’ll make any difference right now.”

0508 Local (+5 GMT) Tomcat 201

Bird Dog was only two hundred feet above the ground, screaming across

the landscape at 450 knots. The pucker factor involved in low-level

operations was second only to trapping on the carrier at night, and

particularly so when dawn had not even started to make its first

appearance over in the east. Luckily he knew from studying the maps

that there were no obstructions on their ingress route, and as long as

he stayed on course and at altitude, he should be over his target

without encountering a hard, immovable object. Like a mountain. Or a

building. Either one of those was guaranteed to ruin an aviator’s day,

along with the more minor hazards, less visible but equally deadly, of

electrical lines and television antennas.

“Ten seconds,” Gator said. “On course, on altitude steady, steady.”

The comments were unnecessary but reassuring. Bird Dog glanced down at

the target track indicator on his heads-up display, followed the red

pip displayed there. He could see himself that he was making a perfect

approach on the target. The only problem, as far as he could see, was

the inbound raid of MiG-29s. And those wouldn’t be much of a problem

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