CARRIER 4: FLAME-OUT By Keith Douglass

overkill to take you guys out? Come on, you must have had some kind of feel

for how they were doing. If they were screening their carrier, that means

there’s at least one bastard out there who can be bluffed into pulling in his

horns on cue. But if it was just a miscalculation of how much strength they

needed up there …”

Grant sat up slowly, frowning, forcing himself to relive the dogfight.

“They were doing pretty good,” he said. “They frightened off Tyrone and

nailed Trapper. Then the Sukhois bugged out …” He hesitated. “But we’d

been doing okay ourselves. If I’d been in charge I wouldn’t have sent off a

third of my planes then. Not unless I had to.”

Magruder looked animated for the first time since he had appeared. “You

don’t think it was just a mistake then?”

“Hell, no,” Coyote answered, trying to muster a smile but failing.

“Whoever was in charge up there knew what the hell he was doing. No doubt

about it. That bright boy wouldn’t just let go of a whole squadron unless

some bigger boy made him. And the only reason I can see for that would be to

cover their carrier.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Magruder said. “Thanks, Will … and, uh

… I’m sorry. But I needed to know, and you’re still the one whose judgment

I know I can trust.”

“I wish I could,” Coyote muttered. But Magruder was gone, leaving him

alone with bitter thoughts.

1430 hours Zulu (1430 hours Zone)

Admiral’s Quarters, U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson

In the Southern Norwegian See

“It still doesn’t sound good, Commander,” Tarrant said heavily. Across

the table, Magruder seemed to slump. The man was plainly dead on his feet,

and even though he looked freshly shaven and was dressed in a crisp new

uniform, it was obvious he’d been up all night.

That made his report that much more disturbing. Tarrant knew Magruder

had done his best, but he just didn’t have enough of a safety margin in his

calculations to convince the admiral that they could do any good.

It was frustrating. Magruder and his Intelligence Officer had some good

ideas for pinning down a large chunk of the Soviet air arm to allow an Alpha

Strike to get through, but the carrier’s slender resources just wouldn’t

support it. After all, the only way to draw off the Soviet air carrier

involved a convincing diversion against the carrier itself, so that meant

spreading American resources among at least three different missions.

“If we could just deal with Orland,” Magruder was muttering darkly. “We

might manage it then …”

Tarrant shook his head. “That’s easy enough, Commander. I don’t even

need your planes to take out Orland. No, the real problem is getting enough

of a strike in on both the carrier and the landing ships without leaving us so

vulnerable that we can’t hold out. We can’t count on hitting them with

surface-launched missiles, because Red Banner Northern Fleet’s got enough

missile defenses to handle whatever we throw their way. Our only real hope of

getting to either target is to get in close with manned aircraft that have a

shot at evading their ship-mounted SAMs. But if we keep a squadron to cover

the battle group I just don’t see enough planes left to cover two strike

forces and carry enough Harpoons and bombs to do any damage.”

Magruder was nodding slowly. “That’s what I was afraid of, Admiral. If

we just had a few more planes … Tomcats to cover the Jeff, one squadron of

Hornets to bomb the troopships, one to ride cover …”

“And you end up sending the Intruders in on Soyuz without an escort.

It’s suicide.” Tarrant shook his head. “No, unless you can come up with

another squadron by magic, we’re stumped. I think our only choice now is to

steer toward Iceland, make it look like we’re trying to skirt their fleet and

get in behind them or something. Maybe that’ll draw off Soyuz and enough of

Red Banner Northern Fleet to give the Norwegians a shot at doing something

themselves.” He sighed. “It was a good effort, Commander. Don’t blame

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