"Sir, that sergeant over at the comm center said a carrier had come through," Geoff said, forcing his voice to sound even and under control. "That's against standard doctrine, but it was a scenario you presented to us in class. They're most likely launching fighters and bombers now. They could be here in less than an hour and a half. This could be the Panama war game scenario, sir."
In the background the admirals continued to argue whether the fleet should abandon McAuliffe, Nagomo raging that Long would lose the war if he followed Banbridge's orders, which were issued without knowledge of the tactical situation.
"Sirs," Turner snapped, loud enough to cut through the yelling. "They may be launching fighters and bombers first. If so, you don't have four hours, you've got less than two."
"That's absurd, Turner," Nagomo said dismissively. "We'll tear them to shreds."
The executive officers and several additional staff were now in the room, some of them turning on each other. Geoff found himself wrestling with the fantasy of retrieving the blaster he had left in Ulandi's office coming back in, and shooting the whole lot of them. What had to be done was so simple and obvious… scramble all ships, withdraw from McAuliffe, let the base take the blow if need be, but above all else… save the fleet so it could fight again. On the comm screen the latest sweep showed four ships having emerged, and what looked like a spread of small dots streaming out ahead of them.
Geoff grabbed hold of Turner's arm again and pointed at the screen. "It's the Panama scenario. There's nothing more you can do here, sir. Now, let's go!"
Turner looked at Geoff in surprise, as if, after all their months together, he had really noticed him now for the first time. With an angry curse, Turner headed for the door, motioning for Richards to fall in with him. As soon as they were out of the office, Turner stopped and looked over at Ulandi.
"Come with us, sergeant," Turner snapped, "I need your help."
"Sorry, sir. I'm with the admiral, sir. He'll need me before this is done-" his tone was distant and sad, " — and besides, sir, it's what I signed on for."
"You might have saved something anyhow, Ulandi," Turner said sadly and extended his hand. "God watch over you, sergeant. Next time the drink's on me."
Ulandi took Turner's hand and smiled. "Stay alive, Winston."
Turner broke away and started into a run down the hall. Geoff caught the eye of the sergeant, who snapped to attention and saluted.
"Now Senator More can kiss your ass, son," the sergeant said with a grin, and then nodded towards the door. "You did good in there, woke old Winnie up. Take care of him, son. Stay alive, you might make a good officer someday."
The sergeant saluted, a gesture that startled Geoff. He snapped off a salute in reply and then broke into a run. As he sprinted down the corridor he looked back and saw the old topkick leaning against the doorjamb, his features obscured in a cloud of cigar smoke.
Bursting out of the main entry, Geoff caught up to Turner.
"We're going up. Maybe Concordia can get under way in time."
Geoff broke into a flat out run, heading for Lazarus, dodging and weaving his way through the swirling confusion of fleet personnel, ground crews, pilots looking for ships, and even some civilians who had tagged along as the military police emptied the town's emporiums. Apparently word that an attack was coming had already hit the crowd, which was quickly degenerating into a mob. As he ducked around a line of Thor bombers, most of them propped up on jacks, their wheel bays empty, he saw half a dozen men gathered around Lazarus, one of them hammering on the access key to the hatch.
"Get away from my ship, damn it!" Geoff roared.
The men turned. One of them, a lieutenant commander who was more than a little drunk, stepped forward.
"If you're going up, boy, I'm ordering you to take me to my ship."
Geoff ignored him as he punched in the code which unlocked the door. He scrambled up the ladder, and looking over his shoulder he saw that a crowd was starting to form, the drunken commander leading them up the ladder. Without hesitating Geoff leaped into the crew compartment, opened a storage hatch and pulled out a light assault gun. He turned and faced the commander.
"Sir, I am ordering you off this ship, right now."
"Like hell you are, ensign."
Geoff chambered a round and snapped the safety off.
"If you don't get the hell off this ship right now, sir, they'll be digging your brains off the wall behind you."
The commander looked at him, wide-eyed, then started to back out of the hatch, cursing at the men behind him to make way. With the hatch cleared, Geoff waved Vance and Winston through the gathering crowd, which was hurling imprecations at him. The two scrambled in and he stepped aside, but kept his weapon trained on the crowd.
Geoff looked at the mob. Some were drunk beyond any hope of recall, some were angry, shouting that they should rush the ship, others were obviously just plain frightened out of their wits. He knew that if he tried to sort them out as to who was best to take along, it would get very ugly, very quickly. He heard the ignitors kicking over on Lazarus' engine.
He pointed first at the lieutenant commander, then at the ten men and women closest to the ladder, making sure he pointed out two that had flight wings on their uniforms.
"You people, in now!"
They eagerly scrambled up the ladder, and as the tenth one cleared the hatch Geoff struggled to block the entry. A burly, overweight petty officer tried to shove his way in.
"Get back, damn it!"
"I'm coming too, damn you," and the crowd behind the petty officer started to roar and surge forward. The ignitor caught and Lazarus' engine flared to life. Several of the mob who were too close to the stern of the ship were knocked over and rolled end over end by the blast.
"You son of a bitch, I'm coming too!"
The petty officer reached out to grab Geoff's weapon. Geoff shifted it slightly and squeezed the trigger, catching the petty officer in the shoulder and knocking him down the ladder. Sickened by what he had just done, he looked at the man squirming on the tarmac below. There was a stunned moment of silence from the mob and, taking advantage of the hesitation on their part, he yanked the ladder in before someone else could grab hold, then slammed the door shut.
The ten whom he had chosen were sprawled out along the narrow access corridor leading from the forward cockpit back down to the stern gun position. Several of them had seen the shooting and looked at Geoff in shock.
The lieutenant commander stepped towards Tolwyn, as if to block his way forward.
"I'm off the Antilles and I'm ordering you to head there first."
"Listen, commander," Geoff said coolly, "Commander Turner is in charge of this vessel and we go where he orders. Do you understand that?"
"I need to get back to my ship right now," the commander started and then fell silent as he found himself staring down the bore of Geoffs gun. The argument settled, Geoff stepped past the lieutenant commander and went forward. Vance was in the left seat, and Turner in the right. As Geoff approached Turner scrambled out of the seat and took the gun.
"I can't fly worth a damn," Turner said. "You take over."
Again there was the faintest of smiles.
"You had to shoot him, there was no other way around it," Turner added, making sure his comment carried to the crowd in the access corridor. He then turned and looked back at them, as if noticing their presence for the first time.
"We're heading to the Concordia. If any of you have a problem with that, get the hell off now."
No one spoke up.
"This is going to be a rough one, people, so lie down and hang on."
Turner settled into the jump seat behind Geoff and strapped in. Vance tapped into the ground control channel, listened to the chaos for several seconds, then switched it off and looked over at Geoff.