medical emergencies–that sort of thing.”
“Well, sir, I believe we might just have a job for you.” Pamela
grinned broadly. “Just how much do you remember about shipboard landings?”
1325 Local
USS Coronado
“Welcome aboard, Admiral.” Ben Carmichael held out his hand to the
officer standing in front of him. They’d met several times socially, but
their professional paths had never crossed. Not that it mattered, he
supposed. He’d heard enough about Tombstone Magruder to think he knew what
he was dealing with.
Admiral Carmichael studied the younger admiral carefully. The same
dark hair, clipped close to his head now, and dark, almost black eyes. No,
he decided on reflection, they were brown, but only by a hair. He
repressed a smile, remembering how Tombstone had gotten his nickname. Not
for the famous shoot-out in Tombstone at the OK Corral, but for the
invariably solemn expression on his face. He’d heard rumors that someone
on Admiral Magruder’s staff had once seen him smile, but Carmichael
wouldn’t be betting on it. Especially not under the circumstances.
“Thank you for having us, Admiral,” Magruder said politely. “And I
appreciate the opportunity for a fly in one of your Harriers.”
“Don’t be saying that too loudly, now,” Carmichael said, finally
chuckling. “That they’re my aircraft, I mean. Marines take that mighty
personal, they do.”
“As rightfully they should.” Tombstone shot a pointed look at Major
Killington, no trace of amusement in his face. “Major Killington has gone
to some length to point that out to me on the flight out.”
Admiral Carmichael turned to survey the young Marine Corps major. “He
has, has he?”
“Major Killington was quite informative.”
Admiral Carmichael looked sharply at Tombstone, then smiled. The
stories about the man’s impassive face might be true, but nothing else
could account for the slight twitch of the wrinkles around Tombstone
Magruder’s legendary basilisk eyes. Obviously, he’d enjoyed the flight
out–as well as maybe a little harassment of the young Marine Corps
officer.
“Thank you, Major,” Tombstone said. “Perhaps we’ll have another
chance to fly that Harrier of yours. I wouldn’t mind taking the controls
myself sometime.”
The Marine Corps officer stiffened, turned slightly pale. “My
pleasure, Admiral,” he answered, neatly sidestepping the issue of Tombstone
flying his aircraft. The major executed a smart about-face and exited the
Ready Room. After he’d left, Admiral Carmichael turned back to Tombstone.
“I take it the young man has a sense of pride in his service?”
Tombstone nodded. “Always encouraging to see in a young officer.”
His tone was noncommittal.
“Well, I think you may know the rest of the people here. Hold on,
I’ll have the chief of staff hunt them down.” Admiral Carmichael picked up
the telephone, dialed a number from memory, and spoke briefly into the
receiver. As he put it back down, he turned to Tombstone and said, “The
rest of the team is just getting on board.”
“The rest?” Tombstone asked.
“How about some coffee, Admiral?” Carmichael offered him a guest mug,
and motioned toward the coffee mess. “Make yourself at home. You want
something to eat, just ask the mess cook. I’ll be right back.” With that,
he strode toward the hatch, jerked it open, and disappeared into the
immaculate passageway beyond.
Tombstone filled the coffee mug and set it down on the table. He
stretched his hands up over him, feeling the muscles and bones in his back
complain. The Harrier had managed to come up with a lumbar support system
even more uncomfortable than that in the Tomcat, a feat he had not thought
possible. Still, he had to admit the flight over to USS Coronado had been
worthwhile–educational in many ways, not the least of which had been the
opportunity to talk tactics with a Marine officer. Despite the initial
impression he’d made on Tombstone, Major Killington had proved to be an
exceptionally knowledgeable aviator, one as skilled in the tenets of ground
warfare as he was in the air. Tombstone had found himself liking the young
major, despite the irritating undercurrent of Marine Corps pride that
underlay almost every comment.
The door to the compartment opened, and Admiral Carmichael stepped
back through. Two figures trailed him, both carrying flight helmets.