Dog glanced enviously up at his roommate, wondering why he deserved to
sleep another four hours.
Well, no help for it When the admiral wanted his staff assembled, it
happened, and happened now. He reached for his flight suit, paused,
then sighed and pulled his khaki pants and blouse out of his locker,
trying not to make any noise. His days of living in the soft,
comfortable green jumpsuit were over. At least until he got back in a
squadron And that wasn’t the only disadvantage to being a staff puke In
his last two cruises, both on board Jefferson, Bird dog had seen combat
in the Spratly Islands and helped thwart Russian invasion of the
Aleutian Islands. Based on his extensive operational experience, he’d
been promoted early to lieutenant commander, then selected to attend
ege in Newport, Rhode Island. Attendance at the demanding college of
staff and command courses was reserved for only 10 percent of naval
officers service-wide.
During his year there, he had been exposed to the most advanced
techniques in tactical and operational art, rubbing shoulders daily
with the top officers from every other service and civilian agency in
the U.S. government. Somewhere along the way, he found out that he’d
done the right things during his previous two cruises, if sometimes
only by mistake.
And that wasn’t the least of it. He pulled on his blouse, smiling as
he thought of Callie. Of all the great things in Newport, she was the
best. And if tonight was any indication, she was indeed the girl of
his dreams.
Callie Lazier, Navy lieutenant commander surface warfare officer. He
smiled. If ever there’d been an officer that looked less like a
warrior, it was her. Long, honey blond .hair, deep blue eyes, and, at
five foot ten inches tall, only two inches shorter than he was. Her
soft, luxuriant curves couldn’t mask the fact that she spent an hour in
the gym every morning before classes and ran five miles every
evening.
The woman was a jock, an absolute jock. The last time he’d tried to
keep up with her, he’d fallen out on the side of Thames Street, made
his way into the Brick Alley Pub, and was happily half drunk by the
time she’d finished her run. Callie had been disappointed and
mockingly stern.
A woman who drives ships for a living. Bird Dog shook his head. How
could someone be satisfied with a life in which top speed meant about
thirty-five knots? He’d tried to explain to her the sheer glories of
naval aviation, the heady exuberance of catapulting off the front of
the carrier, the pure joy of flying the world’s finest aircraft, the
F14 tomcat, under any and all circumstances, but somehow he had the
feeling she’d never really understood. In fact, Callie had displayed a
noticeable disdain for the exploits of the F-14 in combat.
Bird Dog crossed the small compartment in two steps and rummaged around
in the debris on a small ledge over the sink for his wings. He found
them, and jammed the two metal spines on their back through the
well-worn holes on his khaki shirt. Well, she’d feel differently once
she had her first flight in a Tomcat. He didn’t know yet how or when
he’d arrange it, but it would happen. Had to happen, if he were ever
going to explain to her why it was so important that he keep flying.
Five minutes after he’d been awakened, Bird Dog slipped quietly out of
his compartment and headed for TFCC.
0355 Local (+5 GMT)
TFCC “Sir, I recommend we put CAP–Combat Air Patrol–up.”
Tomboy’s voice was confident. “We probably won’t need them unless we
don’t. Then it’ll be too late.”
Batman frowned. “Any other indications of hostile activity?”
“No, Admiral. I simply think it’s a reasonable precaution.”
Batman nodded. He turned to the officer seated in the right-hand TAO
console. “Why didn’t you think of that?”
“I’m sorry, Admiral.” The assigned TAO looked uncomfortable. He had
thought of it, but hadn’t felt comfortable interrupting the admiral’s
conversation with Tomboy. He shot the small female officer an irked
look. It was one thing for her to hang around TFCC, catching up on the