problem is with Willis. Specifics. Meanwhile, I’ll have a talk with
Willis, get his side of the story. Okay?”
“Sounds fair, Sir.”
“What about Slider Arrenberger?”
She shrugged. “He’s … opinionated. There’ve been no problems I’m
aware of.”
“No friction?”
“Nothing that can’t be handled informally, Sir.”
“Okay.” Tombstone clasped his hands together on his desk. This next was
the hard one. “Commander, I’ve heard … scuttlebutt. About sexual
liaisons between the men and the women in the wing.”
She bristled. “Are you suggesting we hold bed checks, CAG? Like they
do for enlisted personnel?”
“No. But I’m worried about the problems those types of relationships
could cause aboard ship. Jealousy. Hurt feelings. Lovers’ quarrels
…”
“Captain, the personal lives of the officers in this wing is not my
concern. They are adults, and they are professionals. I don’t-”
“They are adults and they are professionals, yes. But sexual activity
aboard ship is still strictly against regulations, Commander. It’s our
responsibility to uphold those regulations, even though you and I both
know that they’re going to get bent or broken whenever there’s
temptation and opportunity.”
“There’s precious little opportunity for hanky-panky aboard ship,
Captain. And to answer your question, I’ve heard the same scuttlebutt
but I don’t know anything as fact. You can be sure, Sir, that I will
uphold Navy regulations to the best of my ability. But I am not going
to start demanding chits from my girls every time they want to leave
their compartment to go to the head. Sir.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you should, Commander.” He unclasped his
hands, then looked Conway in the eye. “And you don’t have any other
gripes?
If you got ’em, I want to hear ’em.”
“No, sir. No gripes.”
“Okay. That’ll be all, then. Dismissed. Thanks for coming in.”
But after she left, Tombstone was sure that there was a problem. He
just didn’t know what it was that was bothering her.
One thing was certain. This sexual integration nonsense was taking up
one hell of a lot of man hours–yes, and woman hours too–just to make
it work. Instead of working like a smoothly functioning machine, the
air group’s personnel were experiencing friction … and inefficiency.
With the chances that the Jefferson would soon be in combat growing
greater every day, that friction was becoming dangerous.
Tombstone had only one question at the moment, though.
“What in God’s name would the Russians think of all this if they could
see us now?” he asked the bulkheads of his office.
With no reply forthcoming, he returned, scowling, to the waiting
expendables report. A moment later, his phone rang. “CAG.”
“This is Lieutenant Commander Delano,” the voice said. Delano was on
Captain Brandt’s staff. “The Captain’s compliments, and he wonders if
you could join him for an ops briefing in Flag Plot at fifteen hundred
hours.”
“Very well, Commander.” Tombstone checked his watch. Despite the polite
wording, this was not a request. “I’ll be there.”
“Very good, sir. I will inform the Captain.”
Tombstone sighed. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. He decided
he just might be able to complete the expendables report before he had
to be up in Flag Plot.
CHAPTER 6
Wednesday, 11 March
1515 hours (Zulu)
Flag Plot
U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
Tombstone leaned over the plot table, studying the cryptic symbols and
geometric shapes marked with wax pencil onto the glass top overlying the
navigational chart of the North Cape-Murmansk Coast area. “But what’s
it mean, Admiral? Is Washington actually giving us a shoot-first
order?”
“Hell, no. You know it’s never that simple with them.” Admiral Douglas
E Tarrant, tall, slender, and aristocratic-looking with his head of
silver hair, was the carrier group’s commanding officer, and he was
holding court in Jefferson’s Flag Plot. His uniform, as always, was
immaculate and razor-creased. “The orders are to shadow neo-Soviet
fleet units, particularly their ICBM subs. Starting Friday when we
reach our patrol station, gentlemen, we are going to begin making
Class-A nuisances of ourselves.”
“Off the Kola Peninsula?” Tombstone said. “That’s going to be like
taking on the whole damned Russian military!”
“CAG’s got a point, Admiral,” Captain Jeremy Brandt said. Brandt was
Jefferson’s captain. As hound-dog ugly as Tarrant was good-looking, he