“Well?
Opinions?”
Morrisey frowned. “Possibly the Russians are just taking advantage of
the confusion to get their PLARB boats clear of Polyamyy. If there is
trouble with rebel forces in the area, they’d want their boomers out of
there, and fast.”
“But there hasn’t been, Admiral,” Sykes said. “All of our intelligence
indicates that Leonov’s Blue forces have taken up positions in the
south.”
“Still, some dissidents or mutineers-”
“Would be unable to mount an attack of the sort we’ve witnessed this
morning,” Tarrant said. “My guess is that the attack was precisely to
keep us busy, off balance while they slipped one or more of their boats
to sea. The question is, why?”
“Nuclear attack on the United States?” someone asked. There was a
deathly hush in the room after that.
“Or nuclear blackmail,” another voice added. “Telling us to stay out of
their fight, or they nuke New York.”
“They’ve already attacked us,” a junior staffer pointed out.
“They’re afraid we’re going to retaliate.”
“More likely, they plan to blackmail the Blues,” Morrisey suggested.
“Would they fire on their own cities?” somebody asked.
“They might,” Tarrant conceded. He sighed. “In any case, this one’s
already been bucked up the chain.
It’s way too hot for us to handle at this level.” He paused, looking at
the others. “But while we’re waiting for Washington to make up their
minds, I’m going to send off a status report, and I’m going to include a
strong recommendation that they give Galveston the order to sink that
PLARB. Just in case the target is New York.”
The meeting broke up shortly after that, with no firm planning beyond
carrying out a modified version of the original orders.
The carrier battle force would take up position at a point sixty miles
north of the Norway-Russian border, called Bear Station, and wait. The
planning staff would meet again when word one way or the other came
through from Washington.
“By the way, Stoney,” Tarrant said, as the others were already leaving
the room. “After I make my report, I expect to be deluged with
questions from the Pentagon about the Great Experiment. The Washington
press corps is going to be all over their ass and ours.”
“The women.”
“That’s right. Were any lost this morning?”
Tombstone nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. One. An F-14 RIO in VF-97. We
pulled the pilot out of the drink a couple of hours ago. He’s going to
be all right, but he doesn’t think she ejected.”
“Ejection seat failure?”
“Maybe. Or she just wasn’t found. We still have SAR helos out, looking
for all our MIAs, of course, but in water this cold, even if she did
make it down in one piece …”
“I understand. What was her name?”
“Lieutenant j.g. Elizabeth Harper.”
“Okay. I’ll pass that on. Thanks.”
“Lieutenant Lowe told me that she performed extremely well. He asked me
about recommending her for the Navy Cross.”
“Hmm. We’ll have to see about that. Okay, CAG. Thank you.”
Aboard the helo, on his way back to the Jefferson, Tombstone found time
to think of Harper–and the five other naval officers off the Jefferson
who’d not been recovered. He’d not known any of them well–all had been
relative newcomers to CVW-20–but they would be missed.
The mourning would come later, however, once they got through this.
If they got through it. Right now, it was not at all certain that they
would.
CHAPTER 15
Saturday, 14 March
1000 hours (Zulu +2)
Quarterdeck
U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
Jefferson’s quarterdeck was on her starboard side forward, between the
number-one and number-two elevators, a bulge extending out from the
ship’s hull beneath the flight deck and connecting inboard with the
hangar deck.
When Jefferson was in port, this was the carrier’s “front door,” with a
gangway extended to the dock. VIPs and officers entered the ship here,
and the space was used for some ceremonial occasions such as piping flag
officers or captains aboard.
Now, the day after the Battle of North Cape, Jefferson’s quarterdeck was
being used for a very specific ceremony, one with its roots in the age
of sail, when offenders were called to give an account of themselves
before the captain at the foot of the ship’s mizzenmast.