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