CARRIER 10: ARSENAL By: Keith Douglass

understand. “And tell the exec ” As darkness overwhelmed him, he let

the sentence slip away from his consciousness.

ELEVEN Monday, 01 July 10:00 Local (+5 GMT) USS Jefferson The

conference room was oddly still and silent. In response to the blast,

everyone from the Senate subcommittee to the Secretary of the Navy

through the Chief of Naval Operations had ordered the battle group to a

heightened state of alert and to withdraw outside the Cuban no-fly zone

until the politicians could assess the fallout. On board the carrier,

pilots and other flight officers flooded the passageways, restless

without the constant overhead pounding of their aircraft spooling up,

launching, and returning to the carrier.

Both the 03-level Dirty Shirt and the more formal Officers’ Mess on the

third deck were crowded, not only with aviators but with the flight

crews that supported them. Brunch had made a comeback, even on this

weekday when normally the carrier wouldn’t have been operating at

flex-deck operation.

“So where do we stand?” Batman glanced at Tombstone and then continued

with his line of questioning. “Somebody tell me this makes sense. We

just shot a bunch of precision munitions at Cuba-Cuba, for God’s sake

and shot up a soccer field. And maybe, just maybe, some missiles.

Then the ship that shot them runs into a really high-tech threat a

mine. Now she’s limping around like a wounded duck and we’re hiding

out a hundred miles south of Cuba.” Glancing around the room, he saw

agreement on every face, even as the men and women shifted uneasily in

expectation of having to try to come up with an answer to the

situation.

“Admiral,” Batman continued, turning to Tombstone, “anything to add?”

Tombstone shook his head. “No, that about sums it up.

Once again, politics has played a nasty role in what should have been a

tactical exercise.” His voice grew hard. “And, for the record, there

will be no further cooperation with any news media from this battle

force. Is that absolutely clear?”

Once again, heads nodded, the gazes avoiding his.

Tombstone shifted his inscrutable gaze back to Batman. “I’d be

interested in hearing some options.”

“You’ll have them.” Batman pointed at the chief of operations. “Get

your brightest minds together. I want plans, options, and at least a

decent idea of how you’re going to defend this battle group both from a

Cuban navy threat and from mines. You’ve got two hours.” Batman stood

and walked out of the room behind Tombstone.

The chief of operations stood as well. “Okay, people, let’s get out of

this bird-cage and get back to our spaces. We’ve got some work to

do.”

Bird Dog headed straight back for his desk, excitement pounding in his

veins. This was his chance, the evolution he’d spent the last year

training for at the War College.

Notional flight schedules, concepts of operational art and deception

flitted through his head, each one vying for his immediate attention.

It would be, he decided, his finest moment so far in the Navy. Even

better than shooting down those MiGs in China, more exciting than

flying over the harsh Aleutian terrain as he had in the past-no, this

would be the one evolution that broke him out from the pack.

Admirals would be fighting to get him on their staff, and early

promotion to commander . . . well, that was another question, wasn’t

it? The war-game instructors back at the Naval War College had said he

was a natural, after all.

He slid into his chair, scooted it up to the desk, and fired up his

laptop, eager to get started on his plan to win the war.

Just as he keyed up the word processing and planning outline, a stack

of envelopes landed on his desk, knocking his mouse away from his

fingers.

“Mail call. Bird dog.” Gator’s voice was sardonic, as always. “Looks

like you’ve got some incoming fire from Callie. I thought I’d go ahead

and read it first, but” “Asshole,” Bird Dog snapped, grabbing for the

light pink envelope Gator held just out of reach. “Give it to me,

now!”

Gator scampered out of range and dodged behind the filing cabinet.

“Only if you promise to let me read it when you’re done with it.

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