he was in control of the situation. “Take care of it, Chief.” He snapped off
a salute in response to the Chief’s, executed a smart about-face, and started
walking briskly toward the island.
“Not so fast, mister,” the voice boomed out again. “Get your little
khaki butt down to the stern. Officers and chiefs aren’t excused from FOD
walk-down.”
Bird Dog stopped dead. He could feel his face turning a brilliant shade
of red. He looked aft and saw that his branch was already joining the line of
sailors strung across the flight deck. Damn Chief Franklin! He could have
warned me, he thought angrily.
“NOW!” the speaker roared.
Bird Dog settled into a jog–hoping it was a dignified one–and headed
for FOD walk-down.
2330 local (Zulu -7)
Admiral’s Cabin
USS Jefferson
“Of course I’m here! Just where the hell else did you think I would be,
Batman? It may be after midnight, but you’ve been in Washington too long.
You’ve forgotten what life at sea is like and the hours we keep.” Tombstone
glanced down at the receiver and noted that Batman was calling on the secure,
encrypted circuit. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“Just looking out for my old lead, shipmate. Doing my small part for the
war effort back here in the Pentagon.” Batman’s voice sounded slightly murky.
Not surprising, since it had been encrypted, bounced off two satellites, and
then de-encrypted before being piped into the plain vanilla telephone receiver
now pressed to Tombstone’s ear.
“It’s good to hear your voice, Batman. But quite frankly, your timing
sucks. I’ve got a couple of situations going on down here, and-”
“I know all about it, old buddy. That’s why the Batman is calling.
Think I’ve got something cooked up back here that might be of some small
assistance to you.”
Tombstone snorted. “Like what? Another one of those point papers the
Pentagon feeds on? Some help that’d be.”
“Better than that. How’d you like to have a couple of hotshot look-down
shoot-down aircraft out there?”
“I’ve got Hornets and E-2C’s. Not to mention the Tomcats.”
“Don’t try to con me, Tombstone. Our Tomcats aren’t what you need, not
until the next upgrade hits the Fleet. I’ve got something that will outclass
even those lawn-dart Hornets. Would you buy a Tomcat with the latest JAST
technology?”
“JAST? The Joint Aviation Strike Technology stuff? I thought that was
years away from being operational!”
“In production models, yes. But I just happen to have a couple of
prototypes hidden out for special occasions. Nothing I’d like better than to
see if these airframes can live up to the manufacturer’s warranty.”
“But Batman, we’re not talking about a range exercise out here.
Somebody’s doing some real live shooting.”
“All the better. I’d rather see what these turkeys can do in real
operating conditions instead of on the range. Listen, Stoney, this is
important. Not only for your battle group, but for the Navy as well. With
the push on to go joint, JAST is going to be the technology of our next
fighter aircraft, and we’ll be living with it for decades. If it works, fine.
If it doesn’t, I want to know that now, before we’re committed.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Give me some deck space and berthing. I’ll send you two JAST, plus
flight crews and technicians.”
“Who’s gonna fly them?”
There was a moment of silence on the line, and then Batman chuckled.
“Oddly enough, there’re only three pilots completely checked out on this bird
and her electronics. Unfortunately for the Pentagon, one of them happens to
be me.”
“Anything to get out of the Pentagon, huh?”
“It’s not that bad, once you get used to the fact that a full-bird
Captain is barely qualified to make coffee around this place. Trade places
with you any day.”
“Okay, okay, come on out. I’ll let CAG know his air wing just got a
little bigger and stranger.”
“Expect a COD and our airframes in three days. It’ll take a little while
to arrange the tanking and refueling, but we’re on our way.”
Tombstone replaced the receiver and stared thoughtfully at it. From what