CARRIER 8: ALPHA STRIKE By: Keith Douglass

here to start a war–they just want a good look-see. Too close to use

anything except guns where they are, if that helps.”

“Roger,” the Hawkeye aviator replied, a trace of relief in his voice.

“Watch them,” Batman growled at his RIO. “The second they look tactical,

we’re on them.”

“Got them solid, sir. They’re going to know we’re here, picking up our

radar, but they won’t know exactly where. We’re ready.”

For fifteen excruciating minutes, Batman watched as the Chinese fighters

flew formation on the E-2C, close enough for the Hawkeye pilot to wave at his

Chinese counterpart. Finally, without ever acknowledging the greeting, the

Chinese fighters broke off. Batman breathed a sigh of relief and heard a few

quiet oaths on the tactical net.

“Keep an eye on them, Spook Two,” he heard Tombstone say. Batman

marveled at the even tone of the Admiral’s voice. The gamble Tombstone had

taken with the lives of his aviators had paid off.

Could I have sounded like that? Like everything had worked out exactly

as I’d planned?

Somehow, Batman doubted it.

1224 local (Zulu -7)

Combat Direction Center

USS Vincennes

The TAO let out a deep sigh as the Chinese Flankers turned north, and

glanced at the captain at the next console. The captain ripped off his

headset and tossed it on the narrow desk. “Ghosts, huh? I don’t think so!

We let those bastards push us around like we were the fucking Vietnamese!” the

captain snarled. “What the hell do they think this ship is–a patrol boat?”

“What is all this supposed to accomplish, Captain?” the TAO asked. He

had spent the last hour with his finger poised above the button that would

assign missiles to the incoming fighters. His people were tense and uneasy,

and the adrenaline that the tactical situation had generated was slow to ebb

away.

The ghost contacts generated by the warm, humid air didn’t help, either.

Whatever the previous contacts had been, the ones he’d just been staring at

for the last hour were real.

“Hell if I know,” the CO snapped. “Prove to the world that we’re a bunch

of pussies, I guess, Not that we haven’t proved that often enough. TAO, first

time one of those bastards wanders in within weapons release range, I’m going

to plug him. Admiral Magruder can put out all the fancy rules of engagement

he wants, but there’s nothing he can say or do to compromise my right to

defend my ship. The first hint of hostile intent, and you’re weapons free.

You got that?”

The TAO nodded. Down here in the sandbox, the captain’s plans made more

and more sense. A hell of a lot more sense than the admiral’s did, as a

matter of fact. He stood and stretched, feeling the bones in his back and

neck pop. Politics–the Aegis did anti-air warfare a lot better than he did

subtle diplomacy. And now the captain had dumped it squarely in his lap by

ordering him to shoot if the fighters came within range to release their

weapons.

If they did close the ship to within weapons release range, there might

not be time to get the Captain to Combat. With the captain absent, the entire

decision rested with the TAO. He rubbed his neck with one hand and stared

bleakly at the large-screen display in the front of the packed compartment.

All the delicate maneuverings by diplomats, politicians, and admirals

would come down to the judgment of one thirty-one-year-old lieutenant

commander running on too little sleep and too much coffee. Well, they’d told

him he’d get lots of responsibility early in the Navy.

There was something to be said for the captain’s orders. He’d been right

before, when the missiles had been inbound. If the TAO had had to depend on

the CARGRU’s orders then, the ship would probably be a flaming datum now.

He sat back down and glanced at the time-of-day display in the lower

right-hand corner of his screen. Good thing it was in military time. He

tried to remember how long it had been since he’d been out on the weather

decks–or even on the bridge, for that matter. How many days had it been