CARRIER 8: ALPHA STRIKE By: Keith Douglass

the Spratly Islands and testing the twelve mile limit with Vietnam seemed like

a good compromise between doing FON and not limiting our options in the South

China Sea.”

“Additionally,” Busby added, “Vietnam is currently in a state of flux.”

“When in the last fifty years has it not been?” Tombstone said. “But

you’re right–Vietnam knows that whatever her relationship with the United

States, she will have to live with China as her neighbor. With all the issues

surrounding normalization of relations with Vietnam, it might not hurt to

remind them that the United States has the power to intervene in Southeast

Asia’s backyard. Okay, let’s go with this plan. Starting tomorrow morning.”

“CAG,” Tombstone said, turning to Captain Cervantes. “Let’s talk about

that flight schedule. I want to make damned sure we’re not sending the wrong

signals at any point. And make sure your pilots understand how critical the

twelve-mile limit is. Under no circumstances are they to go wandering off

inside it–in fact, just for safety’s sake, let’s set the limit at fifteen

miles for aircraft. We can creep up to the twelve-mile limit a lot more

safely at fifteen knots with surface ships than at four hundred knots with an

aircraft.”

The CAG looked slightly put out. As I would in his shoes, Tombstone

thought. Still, he was not prepared for what followed.

“I’ll brief the aircrews personally, Admiral. But we’ll also need to

make sure the surface ships are just as careful. Not all of the battle

group,” CAG said, picking his words carefully, “has always understood how

critical that limit is. A shoot-out is the last thing we need.”

For a moment, Tombstone was tempted to dismiss CAG’s remarks as simply

evidence of the rivalry that had always existed between aviators and the

“shoes.” He glanced around the room and saw a number of officers studiously

examining the deck. Then it hit him.

Vincennes. Early on in her career, the cruiser had shot down that airbus

in the Persian Gulf. Evidence was now surfacing that Vincennes might have

been inside Iran’s territorial waters when she’d fired. If the real truth

about her location had ever been fully determined, it was classified at the

highest levels.

“All of our assets will be very clear on my orders, CAG. And thank you

for bringing up that point.”

And now I know what it was I was trying to recall. The shoot-out at the

OK Corral in Tombstone, Arizona. Wyatt Earp’s last battle. The diagram I saw

last night had those same double lines marking off the boundaries of the

corral, tracing out Earp’s path to the showdown.

Tombstone had never been superstitious, and he wasn’t about to admit that

the strange coincidence of the graphics in a book and the diagram of a FON box

had anything in common. This was no calculated warning, no psychic

premonition. It was merely more evidence that the human brain was hard-wired

in ways that might never be fully understood.

Just the same, whatever else he could roll downhill to his staff and the

COS, the matter of the Vincennes required his personal attention and the

weight of the stars on his collar to back up his orders. Sometime in the next

sixteen hours, Rear Admiral Magruder was going to have to have a very serious

talk with Vincennes.

CHAPTER 7

Friday, 28 June

0900 local (Zulu -7)

Flag Mess

USS Jefferson

The moment came eventually, as Tombstone knew it would. He stepped out

of his cabin and into the Flag Mess. Pamela was standing next to the

coffeepot, carefully pouring the thick, hot brew into an insulated plastic

coffee cup, holding the lid wedged between two fingers.

“Care for a cup, Admiral?” she asked politely. Her eyes took him in

carefully, noted his discomfort, and flashed amusement.

“Thank you, Miss Drake.” He held out his own mug, emblazoned with the

VF95 squadron insignia. He dreaded the moment when she would finish pouring

the coffee, when he would have to decide whether to stay and talk with her or

retreat to his cabin.

Damn it! It’s my ship, my battle group! My world, the one she wouldn’t

share me with. If anyone ought to be squirming, it’s her. He took a deep

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