CARRIER 10: ARSENAL By: Keith Douglass

washed cotton khakis, others in faded flight suits. He heard the

comments drift toward the front of the room.

“Goddamn Marines. If they could just . . .”

“I don’t know why we need to . . .”

“And then she wrapped her legs around . . .”

He placed the pointer carefully on the narrow lip at the edge of the

podium. Well, there was nothing that said they had to be enthusiastic

about the safety stand-down.

If truth be told, he wasn’t so wild about the idea himself.

Parking the world’s finest naval aviators in a classroom all right, a

Ready Room, but a classroom for this day while a pilot was missing at

sea and tensions boiled to the south rankled all of them. Still,

AIRPAC supposedly knew best.

With the spate of recent mishaps and incidents, he could understand a

renewed emphasis on safety. But a stand down? Now, with so much

unexplained in the area? He shook his head again, and scowled. The

only aircraft airborne right now were the SAR helos still searching for

the downed Marine pilot.

Like his fellow aviators, there was no requirement he like the safety

stand-down just that he do it. He followed the last aviator out of the

Ready Room and headed for chow.

1200 Local (+5 GMT) Admiral’s Conference Room “All right, what have we

got?” Batman said as he strode into the conference room. “I want some

answers, people.”

The admiral sat down in his usual spot halfway down the table and

glared at Commander Busby, who was standing in front of the room. Lab

Rat met his gaze steadily. It was always like this, admirals demanding

immediate answers and definitive explanations for every scenario. In

an ideal world. Intelligence would be perfect and there would be no

surprises.

But this world was far from ideal. Lab Rat clicked the mouse in his

hand, flashing the first slide up on the screen.

He saw the admiral shift impatiently in his seat as a topographical map

of Cuba lit the front of the room. Lab Rat hastily punched the button

again, cycling on to the next slide.

“Let me cut to the chase. Admiral.” Lab Rat flicked the laser pointer

on and centered the small red dot over the western tip of Cuba. “We

have indications that Major Hammersmith is being held here.

Additionally, I have satellite imagery that indicates the Cubans are

standing up a new weapons system, probably long-range offensive land

attack missiles.” Lab Rat paused, guiltily enjoying the sudden sharp

intakes of breath he heard around the room.

The admiral shook his head from side to side. “You don’t fuck around

when you say cut to the chase, do you?” he said, surprisingly

mildly.

“Okay, Lab Rat, go ahead and start the backing and filling I know is

going to come. You intelligence types never make absolute

pronouncements, do you?”

Lab Rat resisted the impulse to gloat. “We do when we can. Admiral.

As of thirty minutes ago, this was the situation.” He punched the

clicker again, flashing the next slide up on the screen.

It was overhead imagery, a highly detailed and accurate photograph of

the area produced by one of the U.S. national assets a satellite.

Everyone in the room, even those who had seen such imagery before,

leaned forward almost involuntarily. The clarity, the

detail exceptional.

The photograph was in black and white. Centered in the rectangle was a

man in an American flight suit surrounded by a squad of six armed Cuban

army guards. They were walking toward a small cinder-block building.

The American had his face turned up toward the sky, and was being

jabbed in the kidneys by the rearmost guard.

“Thor appears to have remembered his SERE lessons well,” Lab Rat said

neutrally. Every pilot attended the Survival, Evasion, Rescue, and

Escape course before being assigned to a carrier. “He was looking up

at the sky at every opportunity. The Cubans seemed to know what he was

doing, too they nailed him every time. We’ve got six good photos of

his upturned cherubic little face, this one being the best of the

lot.

It’s him, no doubt.”

Batman studied the photo for a moment before nodding sharply.