“I remember,” the admiral said gruffly. And a pleasant experience it definitely had not been. Yet, despite an extensive grilling by the senators, who understood so little about the military, the project had gotten their blessing. Ten Arsenal ships were to be built in the next three years, and Admiral Loggins’s name and reputation were firmly riding on each one.
“This is what you do,” the senator said, speaking quickly and quietly.
“Things are going to get worse in Cuba real soonno, don’t ask me how I know. I just do.” He grinned.
“As you would, if you paid any attention to your fiancee.”
“Pamela?” the admiral said, confused by the sudden change of subject.
“What’s she got to do with this?”
“Everything and nothing.”
Admiral Loggins frowned. Eight months ago, he’d finally screwed up his nerve and asked the luscious Pamela Drake for a date. They had quickly established that they had more in common than either had thought.
Loggins found her sharp, analytical mind refreshing, and Pamela had never been shy about sharing her political acumen with him. It had been through her connections that he’d met Senator Williams, as well as a host of other powerful men and women in both the House and the Senate. Suddenly, another star on his collar was looking a whole lot more probable.
For her part, Pamela seemed to appreciate the insights he sometimes gave her into military affairs. She’d told him more than once that he helped her convey a more balanced picture of the military to her viewers.
On a more personal level, they were equally compatible.
Last month, he’d finally asked her to marry him, and she’d accepted.
Now if she would only stay in the country long enough for them to finalize the plans.
“What do you suggest I do?” the admiral asked, pushing aside the thoughts of his fiancee to concentrate on the senator. Pamela had warned him several times that Williams had the power to make him or to break him.
The senator sighed. “Let me spell it out for you. As deputy AIRPAC, you’re concerned about pilot safety. And about the F-14 Tomcats some of those airframes are getting old. You decide to call a safety stand-down and major responsibility for any strike prosecution shifts to the USS Arsenal. Hell, you can even tell that admiral of yours to shift his flag to her. That would be even better.”
“And the USS Arsenal gets to be the hero of the Cuban confrontation,” the admiral said. “I don’t know. You’re talking about a major shift in policy, pulling our carrier off the front lines.”
The senator’s voice was suddenly harsh and vicious.
“You won’t think so when I get that pilot’s grieving widow plastered across every major network, complaining about how the Navy’s not taking care of its people. How will that look?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” The senator began attacking his pie, glancing up only once to assess the impact of his statement on the admiral. “Do it, Keith.”
“What’s in it for you?” the admiral asked suspiciously.
“Subcontracts,” the senator said promptly. “Every small business in my state is going to have a piece of this.
Building them at Newport News was a masterstroke.”
I don’t like this man. Admiral Loggins thought suddenly.
Don’t like him, don’t trust him. Even if what he’s saying makes sense.
But a safety stand-down isn’t that off an idea.
It’s what we might do anyway.
“I’ll think about it,” the admiral said finally. “No promises.”
“Think fast, Keith,” the senator said, his voice almost a whisper.
“There are plenty of admirals where you came from.”
Batman’s face was colder than Bird Dog had ever seen it before. Something savage lurked just under the surface of the admiral’s dark brown eyes, the harsh, demanding look.
“Any idea why he called the meeting?” Bird Dog whispered to Lab Rat.
The intelligence officer shook his head and motioned for the pilot to keep quiet.
“The chief of staff is passing around a message I want each one of you to see. You’ll notice it’s marked P4a ‘personal for’ message for me from AIRPAC. I think once you read the message, you’ll get the gist of it.” Batman paused, watching twenty sets of eyes glance quickly at the text of the message. “This is bullshit.”
“A safety stand-down?” Bird Dog blurted out. “Sure, we’ve had some mishaps, but” An angry glare from the ACOS Ops assistant chief of staff for operations made him break off in mid-sentence. Batman’s eyes pinned him to his chair.
“That’s exactly what it i san order to stand down.
Evidently, AIRPAC is concerned about the way I’m leading this battle group and decided to give me rudder orders. It doesn’t set too damned well with me, I can tell you that.”
The admiral sighed. “But, of course, we’ll comply. There’s no choice in the matter.”
Lab Rat cleared his throat pointedly. The admiral glanced across the table at him. “You have something to say. Commander?” the admiral asked.
“Yes, Admiral. I understand the need for safety first, but things in Cuba are going to get a lot worse before they get better.” The intelligence officer shook his head. “I don’t understand why Washington would stand down an entire battle group for at least one day of training in the middle of this. Too many desk drivers, if you ask me.” Lab Rat flushed as he belatedly remembered how many Washington assignments the admiral had under his belt.
“He suggests I shift my flag to the Arsenal ship. Out of the question, of course,” Batman continued as if the intelligence officer hadn’t spoken. “No space, and not enough communications-band width.” An odd smile crossed his face momentarily, replaced immediately by the anger churning under the surface. “Sometimes I think a battle group runs more on antennas than it does on aviation fuel.
Nevertheless, effective immediately, every aircraft in this squadron is grounded. No logistics flights, no mail runs, nothing. And tomorrow we start bright and fresh with a safety stand-down. I want to see those NATOPS manuals in every aviator’s hand for at least eight hours tomorrow. If Admiral Loggins thinks this will keep people from getting killed, then I’ll go along with it.”
The admiral surveyed the room. Apparently satisfied with the response he saw in every officer’s face, he turned a cold glare on Bird Dog.
“We’ve also been directed to develop a targeting list for D.C. that will maximize the use of the USS Arsenal. There’s some thought back there that the president may wish to exploit Arsenal’s remote control capabilities to allow more direct control over any potential conflict.”
Bird Dog felt a surge of vindication. Maybe his own admiral didn’t agree with him, but evidently somebody in D.C. saw the true potential of the Arsenal ships. Hell, with them in the battle group, a number of logistic and resupply problems were solved. An Arsenal ship carried more missile sand of more different kinds than any three surface ships combined. And if the admiral didn’t see that, then thank God somebody in D.C. did.
“Admiral, I” Bird Dog broke off suddenly, remembering the unpleasant session he’d had with the chief of staff earlier. COS had made it plain that what the admiral expected was results, not some esoteric bullshit theorizing from a junior officer with too much education and not enough experience to make use of it.
“You have something on your mind. Bird Dog?” Batman asked softly, warning in his voice. “More wisdom from Clausewitz to share with me?”