them away below. As he and Batman stepped off the elevator, Tombstone
couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if a Soviet cruiser missile skimmed
in just now and touched the whole load off.
Fortunately, Jefferson had left the Soviet Baltic Fleet far to the south
in her rapid dash toward the Arctic Circle. Shiloh, with her far-seeing Spy-1
radar and up-to-the-second access to American reconnaissance satellite data,
guaranteed that the enemy could not sneak up on the battle group. The sneak
attack at Romsdalfjord had been possible only because Soyuz had already been
within a hundred twenty miles of Jefferson’s position, a ten-minute flight at
Mach 1. Now, their nearest aircraft were ashore, at airfields so heavily
damaged they would be out of action for days.
Tombstone and Batman waited well clear of the landing zone until the Sea
Knight settled to the deck, and sailors began unloading its cargo. Men in
purple jerseys–fuel handlers or “grapes,” in Jefferson’s color-coded
society–dragged hoses across the steel and connected them to receptacles in
the helo’s fuselage.
“Now hear this, now hear this,” the voice of someone up in Pri-Fly boomed
across the deck from a 5-MC speaker. “Helo incoming, that is, helo incoming.
All personnel stand clear of the designated landing zone.”
Looking back toward the west, Tombstone saw the new arrival, an SH3
drifting down through the gloom of overcast Arctic twilight, its anticollision
lights strobing brightly. The wind was stiffening, wet with spray and
scattered droplets of rain.
“Now hear this, now hear this,” the voice brayed again. “Helo arriving.”
The announcement quickened Tombstone’s interest. The word was out that a
high-level staff meeting would be held aboard Jefferson later that evening.
“II MEF” could only refer to Major General Chester R. Wagner, commanding
officer of the Second Marine Division. His flagship, the LPH Iwo Jima, was
still three hundred miles to the west, but on a converging course with the
Jefferson battle group and drawing closer with every hour.
With a roar, the SH3 Sea King settled to the deck some distance astern of
the Sea Knight. As the rotors whined to a halt, a double line of Jefferson’s
Marines, dazzlingly outfitted in their full dress uniforms, trotted into
position and snapped to attention. Captain Brandt and Admiral Tarrant strode
up the line and were beside the helo when a side door slid open. A lean,
weathered-looking man in khakis dropped to the deck, saluted his greeting
party, then walked with them toward the island, closely pursued by staff
officers carrying briefcases and urgent expressions.
“A Marine general on board,” Batman said. “God, I bet things happen
now!”
Two hours later, Tombstone and Batman sat side by side on folding steel
chairs in CVIC. General Wagner and Admiral Tarrant had conferred together,
then assembled most of Jefferson’s department heads. Rumor and speculation
had been running unchecked through the labyrinthine tangle of Jefferson’s
passageways and compartments all day, and it looked as though this conference
would answer the questions that seemed to be on the mind of every officer and
man in the task force. was Jefferson pulling out? Were they pressing the
attack, pressing the advantage they’d won by destroying Soyuz?
What in hell was going on outside the tight, enclosed little worlds of
Jefferson, Shiloh, and the other ships of CBG14?
“Gentlemen,” Tarrant said, beginning the meeting. “Thank you all for
coming. This afternoon, if you don’t mind, I’m going to serve as my own
briefing officer. Not that I’m putting him out of work, but I wanted the
pleasure of this session myself.
“First, I would like to take this opportunity to present Major General
Wagner, whom I’m sure most of you know by reputation, if not personally.
“Next, I’ve been asked by Washington to do something a bit out of the
ordinary. This is not ordinary procedure, you understand, but these are not
ordinary times.” His eyes found Tombstone’s. “Commander Matthew Magruder!
Front and center!”
Tombstone was caught completely off guard. He rose and made his way to
the front. “Yes, sir.”
Tarrant turned and addressed the room. “I’m not very good with
speeches,” he said, unfolding a computer printout, “so I’ll simply give you
the straight word. Commander Magruder is being credited with devising the