CARRIER 10: ARSENAL By: Keith Douglass

Doppler pulse radar.

Tomboy had flown as Batman’s RIO during a conflict two cruises ago in

the South China Sea when Batman, as program manager for the JAST

project, had persuaded Tombstone, then commander, Carrier Group Nine,

to use the test platforms in actual combat.

“Just catching up on the changes,” she said, gesturing to a

large-screen display behind her. “A few things are different.”

“More has changed with you than has with TFCC,” Batman said, looking

down pointedly at her left hand. “So you finally did it?”

Even in the semi gloom of TFCC, he could see her blush “Las Vegas.

Neither of us felt like a large wedding.”

“You could have at least told me. Me, of all people,” the admiral

huffed. “As many aircraft as I have on board this ship, I would have

found a way to get there.”

“My apologies. Admiral. The next time” “There’d better not be a next

time. So what are you doing on board?”

“PXO, of VF-54.” The small naval flight officer couldn’t hide her

grin.

“Who’d have thought?”

“I saw your name on the list, but didn’t realize that was so soon.

You’re relieving Henry?”

“Yes. He fleets up to CO in two weeks. I talked Tombstone into

letting me come aboard a week early, just so we could start turnover.

Besides, I need a FAM flight in the B-bird.” She shook her head

ruefully. “After the birds I’ been flying, it takes some getting used

to. At least I’ve Gator in the squadron to keep me honest.”

“That’s right he’s the VF-54 operations officer, isn’t he? Good

man.”

The admiral glanced up at the tactical display, then turned back to

her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that Bird Dog was in the

air.

This is just the sort of situation he’d be involved in.”

Tomboy laughed. “He’s your problem now. Admiral, not Gator’s, since

he’s on your staff.”

“Since this is old-home week, let’s just get his young ass up. How

about it?” The admiral turned to a messenger. “Go wake up Bird Dog.

I think he’ll want to see this.”

0355 Local (+5 GMT) Stateroom 03-135-03-L, USS Jefferson For some

reason, Callie Lazier was trying to wake him up.

Her hand was on his shoulder, shaking gently but insistently.

He could feel her snuggled up spoon fashion in back of him, her nipples

gently pressing against his back, his butt nestled into the taut

hardness of her belly. He smiled, wondering if her other hand was

already snaking around his waist, reaching lower to caress him, waking

him up in what had already become a delightful morning tradition in

their relationship. If so, she’d find out just how ready he was,

asleep or not.

Lieutenant Commander Curt “Bird Dog” Robinson moaned and rolled over

onto his side. Why not make it easier for her? He pulled her hand off

his shoulder to guide it down, feeling the urgency and anticipation

build as he since when did Callie have hairy wrists?

“Sir. Sir!” The voice was low and insistent.

Bird Dog tried to twist away, then paused to think. Sir?

Why was his fiancee calling him that? It didn’t make sense.

The only time he was awakened with that was when he was His eyes

snapped open and he stared into the plain, hone stand now, horrified

face of the Flag messenger.

“Oh, shit.” With a sigh. Bird Dog shoved the pillow away from his

face. “I’m back on Jefferson, aren’t I?”

The admiral’s messenger gulped, then nodded. “Sir?”

“Never mind.” Bird Dog released the man’s wrist and shoved himself up

into a sitting position. “This better be good.”

The messenger smiled. “That’s just what the admiral said, sir, about

ten minutes ago. He thought you might want to see this.”

Bird Dog sighed. “The admiral, huh? Okay, I’ll be right there.”

As the messenger scuttled out of his stateroom, closing the door

quietly behind him. Bird Dog flipped on the small light mounted

immediately over his head, casting a dim glow over the entire room. No

point in waking up his roommate if he didn’t have to.

Heavy snores cut through the compartment from the rack above him. Bird

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