ordinary.”
“Sir?”
That seemed to get a rise out of him. For a moment Tarrant couldn’t help
but think that Magruder hadn’t expected the advancement. That was silly, of
course. As Stramaglia’s deputy Magruder was the automatic replacement.
He put the thought out of his mind. Probably young Magruder was still a
little bit dazed by everything that had happened. Viper Squadron … Gridley
… Stramaglia. It was a lot to take in all at once.
“Your immediate concern is the defense of this ship,” Tarrant told him.
“Viper Squadron’s at half strength, and that’s going to put a crimp in our CAP
umbrella. Do what you have to, but make sure we’re covered. Next time the
bombers could be headed our way.”
Magruder nodded slowly. “Yes, Admiral.”
“I also want ASW tightened. I don’t want another Gridley.” Magruder
seemed about to say something, and Tarrant paused, but the new CAG didn’t
speak after all. “The real problem, though, is bigger,” he went on after a
moment. “After what’s happened this morning we need to husband our resources.
I don’t know how we’re going to defend the carrier and still project any kind
of substantial offensive power, but if we don’t come up with something pretty
damned quick we might as well call off this whole cruise and go home. So we
need some ideas, Magruder. Some way to hit those Russian bastards where it
hurts and slow down the offensive against Bergen.”
“That’s a tall order, sir,” Magruder replied, still thoughtful but less
distracted than before. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”
“That’s not what I want to hear, mister,” Tarrant snapped. “Stramaglia
would have come up with something. I expect you to do the same. Because if
you don’t, Commander, this war is over.”
The new CAG stepped back, looking stricken. “I’ll … do what I can,
Admiral,” he said.
Tarrant nodded. “That’s what I want. Get on it, Commander. Dismissed.”
1132 hours Zulu (1132 hours Zone)
Wing commander’s office, Soviet Aircraft Carrier Soyuz
The Norwegian Sea
Captain First Rank Glushko regarded his subordinate with distaste.
“Well, Terekhov, it seems your victory was less than complete.”
Terekhov stared at a point on the bulkhead somewhere behind Glushko’s
head. “My men did all they could, sir,” he said stiffly. “Had the Sukhois
remained in the battle we could have destroyed the rest of their F-14 squadron
and faced the reinforcements as well. But without the Sukhois …”
“You intend to put the blame on my decision to defend Soyuz then? Is
that how your report will read?” He tried to keep from betraying his emotion,
though he knew that Terekhov already understood how Glushko felt about him.
Terekhov didn’t answer.
“Listen to me, Captain,” Glushko went on, dropping his voice. “You think
you can ruin me with an accusation like that. I, on the other hand, am in a
position to ruin you as well. The operation was based on your plans, and the
weakness of the defenses devoted to Soyuz was certainly a cause for legitimate
concern. Even though the Americans did not attack, it was a possibility that
had to be thought of, and your ambush, bold as it was, took no account of the
possibility. So I may be censured for my part in this, but I can assure you
that I will not crash alone. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Terekhov replied. His tone was wary.
Glushko smiled. “On the other hand … our casualties were not light,
but we inflicted much damage on the American fighters. And the bombers
carried out their strike on the base in Iceland successfully. This morning’s
events can be presented as a substantial victory … perhaps even a decisive
one. But it would not look good for one of us to … spoil the image of
success through recriminations. It is easy enough to look back on an event
and speak of those things which might have been, Terekhov, but it is not
always the wisest course.”
The younger officer shifted his gaze to Glushko’s face. “I do not intend
to let you destroy me or the reputation of my men, Comrade Captain. If this
is some attempt to keep me from defending myself …”