CARRIER 8: ALPHA STRIKE By: Keith Douglass

signed his fitness reports, and who would make recommendations that might

affect whether or not he would eventually wear stars.

“Thanks for coming over on short notice, Captain,” Tombstone said.

“My pleasure, Admiral. I was prepared for the request.” Killington

smiled smugly and passed a manila folder he carried.

“Oh, really?” For a moment, Tombstone felt off-balance. “And why was

that?”

“Well, it was obvious to me, Admiral, based on your last orders.

Conducting these FON ops is going to take us to the edge of Vietnamese

territorial waters. I knew you’d want to know what steps we were taking, what

precautions we’d recommend in constrained waters. That’s why I had my staff-”

You idiot, you don’t have a staff! I have a staff–you have your normal

complement of department heads and divisions officers, Tombstone thought.

“-prepare these charts. Of course, we’re prepared to address any obvious

contingencies as well.”

“I see. And by contingencies, you mean …?”

The Aegis CO leaned forward in his chair, his voice dropping lower.

“We’re going to be in mighty close, Admiral. We could be closer.”

“Closer than twelve miles?”

“Not officially.”

“I see,” Tombstone said for the second time.

Now I understand why I heard my uncle use that phrase so often. Back

when he sat in this chair, he must have learned it was a good way to buy time

when you’re trying to deal with an idiot! He could have told me that when he

came to my change of command. Just a little family admiral secret, passed

down from the man who is now Seventh Fleet to his favorite nephew.

“I’m glad you came prepared, Captain. That will make this entire meeting

more fruitful. May I see your briefing charts?” Tombstone held out his hand.

“I can explain each one if-”

“Just the charts, if you please.”

Reluctantly, the surface warfare officer handed over the manila folder.

Tombstone leafed through the printouts and diagrams. Part of the

information was indeed useful–descriptions of additional precautions the

battle group should take to detect missile dangers from the coastline, pop-up

aircraft, and neutral traffic. It was the last two diagrams that worried him.

They contained detailed descriptions of possible shore targets along the

coast, as well as a range chart showing increased early alert warning

capability if the Aegis were to proceed into six miles off the coast.

“According to this, you’d be in full view of anyone on the coast,”

Tombstone remarked.

“They’ll be able to see us anyway. Even twelve miles away, the carrier

will be visible. The masts of the smaller ships, too.”

“And you’re recommending this as an OP-PLAN?”

“I’m recommending it as an approach to exerting our rights of innocent

passage. The law lets us intrude into their territorial waters if we’re in

transit between two international waters and not conducting military

operations.”

“But you would be, according to this. Conducting military operations, I

mean.”

“They’d never be able to prove it. I’d leave my helos airborne, with

orders to bingo to the carrier for refueling.”

“Well. Captain, you’ve certainly put some thought into this,” Tombstone

said, anger starting to grow. CAG had been right–the Aegis was potentially

more of a problem than CAG’s aircrews. “And I appreciate your initiative in

sharing it. So let me explain my intentions to you, just so we’re all in sync

with this.

“The Aegis,” Tombstone continued, “is an extremely valuable battle

control platform. Your capability to manage the air war, as well as the

assets of the other cruisers in the battle group, is vital in conflict. What

I am concerned about is whether or not you are incompetent, stupid, or

absolutely fucking insane.”

Killington had started to beam at Tombstone’s words. His mouth dropped

open at the last sentence, and his face froze into an incongruous mask of

self-approval and shock.

“But-” he started.

“Shut up and listen if you want to stay in command for more than another

three seconds. We are not at war, Captain! My message contained no secret

message that you should run through your secret decoder ring. We are simply

going to patrol back and forth in the box I’ve laid out for you, staying

outside the twelve-mile limit! And the first time I catch your happy little

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