heavies. After his tour on special assignment to the White House, he got to
know his way around the Pentagon fairly well. You’d have to cut your tour in
DC short-”
“Yes!” Batman cried. “Oh, yes, yes, there is a God!”
“I take it you’d have no objection, then,” Tombstone said dryly.
“And what about you?” Batman said suddenly. “Any idea of where you’re
going?”
Tombstone shook his head. “Not a clue. There’ve been a couple of
possibilities discussed, but nothing even more than a passing thought. It
won’t be to sea, though. Probably DC would be my guess.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be too bad,” Batman said thoughtfully.
“Hah! Look who’s talking! You were just crowing over the chance to get
out of there!”
“My situation’s a little different from yours.”
“How so?”
“I don’t have a RIO who thinks I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread.
You do. And DC is a hell of a big place, Tombstone. Big enough for one
admiral and one lieutenant commander to get lost in the shuffle.”
“What are you saying?”
“Just this, amigo. You’ve got a chance to have something very good with
that young RIO of yours. These circumstances–it wouldn’t work, and you’re
smart not to try. But you pass on this one when you get ashore, Stoney, and
you’re going to regret it. I guarantee it.” For a second, something wistful
shone in Batman’s eyes. “She’s a fine RIO, Tombstone, and a hell of a woman.
And one of our own. Don’t blow it, okay?”
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll think about it.”
Batman left, clutching the precious stars in his hand. Tombstone watched
him go. He’d make a fine admiral, no doubt about it. And if he had to give
up command of his carrier group to anyone, he’d have picked Batman.
He scowled and reached for the next folder on top of the pile that
threatened to slide off of his desk. During the last week, the normal
paperwork associated with running a battle group had accumulated to a daunting
stack. In two weeks, USS Lincoln would relieve USS Jefferson on station in
the South China Sea, and the logistical issues and lessons learned were
responsible for at least half of the folders demanding his attention. Nothing
short of a full alpha strike from the mainland would get him out of wading
through it today.
He heard a light tap on his door and sighed. COS had extracted a promise
that he would spend four hours on paperwork and had guaranteed no
interruptions. Tombstone wondered who had managed to sneak past his
gatekeeper.
“Come in,” he snapped irritably. “And it better be important!”
The door opened slowly, and Pamela slipped in. “Maybe not in the grand
scale of things, but I did want to say good-bye before I got on the COD. We
leave in an hour. I promised COS I’d only take up a couple of minutes of your
time.”
Tombstone leaned back in his chair and tossed his pen on the desk. “So
soon?” he asked. “I thought you might stay for part of the wrap-up or the
transit back to California.”
“The story’s not out here anymore, Stoney. It’s back with the
politicians. I’ll let someone who likes tamer stories cover that part of it.
Besides, Bosnia’s flaring up again.”
“Some things never change, I guess.” For a moment, he envied her. After
the challenge of dealing with the Chinese, the trip back to the States was
going to be boring. Still, he might actually have a chance to fly a bit more.
How much more satisfying, though, to be able to leave when things got slow.
“Some things do change. Like us. It’s been different this time,” Pamela
said.
“Has it?”
“Oh, yes, I think so.” She paused, studying his reaction. “You’re
different.”
“Think the stars make that much difference?”
“It’s not just the rank, Tombstone. It’s you. Seeing you here, on your
ship–knowing what you do, the responsibilities you have. It makes a
difference.”
“This is where I wanted to be the entire time, Pamela. I thought you
knew that–what it would be like.”
“I knew but I didn’t know.”
They both fell silent. There was no point in resurrecting the perennial