international waters attempted to offer aid in locating the downed airmen and
the sailors from the ship. Working together with our allies, a few men were
recovered. As soon as practical, they will be repatriated to their respective
homelands. In the meantime, the United States regrets that a tragedy of this
proportion could occur, and offers its condolences to the families of the men
involved.”
T’ing cleared his throat and looked down, as though overcome by emotion.
A staffer reached around from behind him, placing a piece of paper before him.
T’ing slapped the hand away, glanced at the paper, and then shoved it aside.
“Does the ambassador from China wish to respond?” the chairman asked
uncertainly.
She intercepted a keen look of distrust and anger from T’ing, a
millisecond-long flash of belligerence. It was gone as quickly as it had
come. Then T’ing stood.
“On behalf of my government, we thank the ambassador for her condolences.
The events of this morning …” T’ing stopped, feigning momentary emotion,
and thought furiously. If he disputed the ambassador’s version of that
morning, it would inevitably follow that word of China’s defeat would be
circulated immediately. It was intolerable–the loss of face in front of the
Pacific Rim tiger nations would set China’s plan for regional leadership back
generations. On the other hand, her proffered explanation would buy China
time, time to rebuild and rearm, time to further insinuate itself into the
countries bordering the South China Sea.
He glanced at Vietnam and saw Ngyugen’s almost imperceptible shrug.
Whatever China decided, the Vietnamese ambassador would support. Brunei
didn’t even matter, and Malaysia had no proof. In that instant, pitted
one-on-one against the American devil, he decided.
“… are indeed a tragedy,” he continued. “We thank the United States
for her assistance and look forward to the immediate return of our airmen and
seamen.”
The ambassador from the United States rose again. “Those events only
point out the ever more pressing need for a regional plan for the South China
Sea. We must be prepared to move swiftly, to act in concert, to prevent
further loss of life in future storms.”
T’ing gritted his teeth and nodded. It would do no harm to agree now.
Sun Tzu would have understood using the tactical advantage of peace to buy
time to prepare for the next conflict.
CHAPTER 31
Friday, 6 September
Hangar Bay, USS Jefferson
Alameda, California
“Attention on deck!” the Chief of Staff snapped.
The ranks of officers and enlisted personnel stiffened slightly, but made
no other appreciable movement. Even the Navy Band detachment seemed
immobilized as they struck up “Ruffles and Flourishes,” only the conductor’s
right hand beating out the tempo.
Vice Admiral Thomas Magruder strode up the steps to the platform and
returned his nephew’s salute. The band finished with its final bars, and
Tombstone dropped his hand. His uncle greeted old friends on the dais, then
took a seat in the chair slightly to the right of the podium. The colors were
posted, the national anthem played, and the chaplain offered an opening
prayer.
Tombstone stepped behind the podium and adjusted the microphone. There
was no need for it–his staff had checked and double-checked every detail
thoroughly, rehearsing the change of command ceremony until even the most
junior ensign on the Jefferson could have recited every line by heart. The
only part that would be new would be Tombstone’s farewell speech.
He looked out over the ranks of men and women–almost two thousand of
them, the remainder on watch, liberty, or leave–arrayed around the two
hundred metal chairs on the flight deck of Jefferson. Civilians and military
guests from other commands packed the space encircled by the ranks, rustling
their programs and catching up with old friends. His eyes sought out Tomboy
and found her standing in ranks with her squadron. A small smile passed
between them.
It had been his decision to hold the ceremony on the flight deck,
although they’d kept the cavernous hangar bay spotlessly ready in case it
rained. The weather in Alameda, Jefferson’s home port, could be unpredictable
in the spring.
During his early days as a junior officer, Tombstone would have tried to
find some way to get out of attending any ceremony. It had seemed boring