CARRIER 9: ARCTIC FIRE By: Keith Douglass

talking as the voice on the other end of the speaker resumed its tirade.

Finally, when he’d had enough, Tombstone interrupted. “I appreciate

your call, Admiral Carmichael, but I’m a bit confused by your orders. The

last time I studied our chain of command structure, ALASKCOM reported to

commander, Pacific Fleet, not to Third Fleet. I called to discuss your

tactical situation in my geographic area, not give you rudder order.

Perhaps I didn’t make that clear.” This time, he kept the receiver at his

ear, sacrificing the safety of his eardrums for a little privacy. He waved

his hand dismissively at his staff as he listened to the tirade resume.

“Damn it, Admiral Magruder, you don’t have the faintest idea how

delicate these matters are. The whole world is watching how we handle the

Greenpeace matter, and your precious aircraft carrier can’t seem to find

its ass with both hands. How the hell do you explain that?” Admiral

Carmichael demanded. “That’s what comes of putting someone with no

experience in D.C. in command of such a sensitive region. You have no

idea, no concept-”

Tombstone’s temper finally ignited. “With all due respect, I’ve had

just about enough. If you wish to discuss ALASKCOM with me, I would

welcome your advice and thoughts. However, no one has seen fit to place me

under your command, and I’ll be goddamned if I’ll take any more of your

abuse. Is that clear? Sir?” Tombstone snapped.

Silence. Then, a faint chuckle. “I’ve heard you had a mind of your

own, Magruder,” the voice said thoughtfully, all trace of his prior anger

gone. “Now, prove it to me. Show me you’re something besides a hot-hot

jet jock who will never get beyond the one-star rank.”

“if we had a few more operational commanders in charge of policy in

D.C., Admiral Carmichael, we might end up with a more cohesive national

strategy,” Tombstone said tartly. “You may see this as a sensitive

political situation. I see something worse. I’ve got a missing civilian

vessel, someone shooting at one of my P-3C aircraft, Bear-H’s in the area,

and Admiral Wayne’s got indications of activity on a supposedly deserted

island. Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s all a coincidence. Now

balance that against your precious island geek and tell me what you’d be

worried about–some stupid bird or your air crews?” And that, Tombstone

added silently, will go a long way toward telling me exactly who you are.

Static crackled over the circuit as Tombstone waited for the other man

to answer. Relationships between admirals could be tricky at best, as

those in the highest rarefied circles of naval command and control fought

the battle for their own political survival. Tombstone had no desire to

join that fray, and if it meant he would retire with one star instead of

more, that was fine with him.

“Tombstone–can I call you that?–let’s put our cards on the table,”

Admiral Carmichael said finally. “I understand about aviation, and how you

folks have your own way of doing business. Believe me, sir, I’ve got no

intention of asking your boys to go into harm’s way without adequate

backup. But from here, it looks like a civilian vessel that’s got a

history of doing sneak attacks on us has gone missing and some asshole

Inuit lighting off fireworks. And maybe playing around with a

walkie-talkie while your P-3C pilot is thinking Stingers instead of

sparklers. I’m willing to be persuaded, though. So start talking.”

A rare smile cracked its way across Tombstone’s face. He’d heard that

Admiral Carmichael was a screamer; a flag officer that pushed those junior

to him as far as he could with his reputation for an abusive temper. Rumor

control also had it that the admiral would back down if confronted, and

that half of the purpose of his screaming fits was to test the temperament

of those junior to him. “Admiral, I don’t believe in coincidence,”

Tombstone said slowly. He considered bringing up the issue of chain of

command, and then abandoned it. Admiral Carmichael certainly knew where he

stood in the pecking order, as well as whom Tombstone reported to. There

was no formal need for Tombstone to tell Admiral Carmichael anything other

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