“This morning, at approximately four a.m the American government sparked another round in the increasingly escalating tensions between Cuba and the United States. For the past two weeks, the presence of an American battle group allegedly conducting routine operations off the coast almost within the territorial waters of our neighbor has caused increasing concern on the part of the Cuban government. This day, those concerns were made real.
“As you know, American citizens are not allowed to visit Cuba.” She gave a small, rueful smile. “Restrictions on our First Amendment rights have never prevented ACN from being the first to bring you every story around the globe.
That dedication to our basic constitutional guarantees of freedom led to the American aggression this morning that almost killed me.”
Pamela paused for a moment, and repressed an involuntary shudder that threatened to work its way up from the base of her spine to her shoulders. There was no need to show fear with her command of her voice, every member of her watching audience was already experiencing it. She’d survived; that was enough. She took a deep breath and continued.
“I have no doubt that the American military establishment will try to deny their involvement in this incident. This murder, I should say.
However, I will not let that happen. I was there. I saw it. An innocent fishing boat, transporting freedom fighters to a clandestine meeting, was intentionally destroyed by an American missile. Whether or not the United States knew I was on board one of those ships, I refuse to speculate. However, you may draw your own conclusions.
“During a time when the American government has decided its national interests required a formation of a Trilateral Commission, extensive participation in a new world order, and recognition of the impact economies in other nations have on our own, it is particularly disturbing that we ignore our neighbors to the south. The circumstances are made worse by the fact that there are opposing opinions about the proper relationship between Cuba and America. The American government claims that political uncertainty may lead to the loss of investment capital if trade relations are opened with Cuba, and may be taken by the world community as a movement of support for this dictatorship. The U.S. appears solely concerned with dollars these freedom fighters, these men and women, risk their lives. If we can spend fifteen years in a war to try to support democracy on the other side of the Pacific Ocean, how can we rationalize failing to support these people in their struggle against Castro?”
She paused again, to let her audience absorb the argument. She would have to repeat it several times, she knew.
While television was the most compellingly immediate news medium in the world, its listeners were not always particularly attentive. Many of them wanted the story wrapped up in sound bites, in a sentence or two of intelligent commentary that would form their political views both at home and at the polls. She thought for a moment, then decided to go with it.
“I call on the American government to aid and support these precious freedom fighters, who are the Cuban equivalent of our constitutional founding fathers.” She gestured off camera toward a group of people her viewers could not see.
“I wish that I could show you their faces as I see them.
Proud, determined, reflecting the knowledge that they know they risk their lives every day for the freedom of their country. How many of us can say the same?
“Instead of supporting these people, our government this morning embarked on a determined campaign to destroy them. This is unconscionable, and we should not stand for it.
Cuba is a great and historic nation, and her people are deserving of our support and our friendship.” She continued to stare at the camera as she recited her normal sign-off, then relaxed only after she saw the telltale red light over the video camera blink out. “How was it?”
Santana stepped away from his watchful position near her cameraman.
“Beautiful.”
Batman slammed his hand down on the conference table, making most of his staff members jump. “Damn it, one of these days, I’m going to break her ever-loving neck!” He glared at the assembled officers, although they had nothing to do with his current mood.
The staff, hastily summoned from their other duties to watch the breaking news story, were equally horrified. That Pamela Drake had once been Admiral Magruder’s fiancee was no secret. Everyone in the tight-knit aviation community, as well as most officers outside of it, knew, and had followed the affair with interest. Their breakup over the Spratly Islands affair and Tombstone’s subsequent marriage to Tomboy had secretly delighted more than one. Tombstone needed to be kept inside the family, and that included his love life.
Batman sighed and leaned back in his high-backed chair.
He let the tension drain out of him as he stared at the still, watching faces around him. “Okay. She’s done it. So now what happens? You’d better believe we’re going to be besieged by requests for visits and briefings.” He pointed one finger at the public affairs officer. “Get it sorted out.
Now.”
“Admiral, I,” Bird Dog began.
Batman wheeled on him. “You keep your mouth shut, mister. You’ve done more than enough so far this cruise.”
He let the rage flood back, and focused on the lieutenant commander in front of him. “What in all hell’s bells gave you the idea of executing an aggressive decoy tactic? I’d bet my stars that Gator was trying to talk you out of it the entire time. Is that right?”
Bird Dog nodded, relieved that at least his RIO wouldn’t suffer his own public execution. After all, Gator had tried to stop him. He just hadn’t listened. As he hadn’t so many times before. “Gator had nothing to do with it. Admiral.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t just punch out and make you explain why you showed back up at the carrier without a canopy and a RIO,” Batman muttered. “Hell, I know I would have. Damned harebrained idea like that.” He intensified his scowl.
Bird Dog wilted visibly in his seat. Batman let it go on two beats longer, then said, “You’re grounded. You couldn’t expect anything else, not after this incident. There’ll be a full JAG investigation, at the very least.”
Or a court-martial. Batman let the words remain unspoken.
“Yes, sir.” Bird Dog started to say something else, then decided that anything he could or would say at this point would only dig his grave deeper.
“Now, for the rest of it. I’m tempted to say let’s get our story straight, but we don’t have any story. We simply tell the truth, that’s all. At this point, I’m inclined to simply treat Bird Dog’s little escapade here as part of an overall plan of operational deception. You all know the reason why. That, of course, remains top secret.” He turned back to the PAO again. “Figuring out how to put this all in one neat package is your job. Tell the truth as much of it as we dare but steer away from anything that could compromise the safety of that pilot. You got it?”
The PAO nodded. “Aye, aye. Admiral. I’ll have the executive briefing on your desk in one hour.”
“Make it thirty minutes.” Batman suddenly felt fatigue flood his body.
The next few hours-hell, the next few days were going to be an unmitigated public circus. He’d rather be taking five night traps in a row in a gale-force wind than face the media storm that was about to erupt. Had erupted, he corrected as he glanced back at the television set. ACN commentators were already clamoring for attention, asking pointed questions that were really snide comments on the ability of the U.S. military to control its forces.