He stood, stretching slowly, waving off the corpsmen that were swarming around both of us. "I'm okay," he said. He looked over at me. "How about you?"
"I'm fine," I said, following his lead. The urge to appear just too, too casual for my own good was upon me now. It's something we all do when we've pulled off some incredible hair-raising feat that never should have worked. We cool it, pretend like it was in the bag all the time. "What now, Admiral?" I asked.
He fought off another medic, then shrugged. "We're going to go see Admiral Wayne ― both of us," he said as he caught my startled look. "You got a problem with that?"
"Uh, no, sir," I said, hesitating for a moment. I remembered the last time I'd seen Admiral Wayne ― God, had it even been this decade? I'd been pissed about the flight schedule, stormed into his office, and demanded to get on it.
Admiral Wayne should have shot me at that point, Hell, I would have shot me.
The prospect of seeing him again made my stomach flutter. But after the last week, I could handle a few nerves.
"Let's get going then," the admiral said. "Before these guys and girls decide to nail us with some morphine and kidnap us down to Medical."
"Uh, Admiral?" I asked. "Shouldn't we get cleaned up first? I don't know about you, but I'm pretty dirty." A massive understatement if there ever was one. I was caked in dirt from scalp to toes, even inside my tattered flight suit. Even worse, I felt like things were crawling on me. Tombstone laughed. "Batman's not going to mind," he said. "And the sooner I tell him what's going on, the sooner we can take care of the problem. C'mon ― besides, it'll be good for him. Getting exposed to what a real fighter pilot looks like for a change."
12
The biggest messages sometimes come in curt, oddly accented voices barely audible through the crackle of static. This was one of those. Not only was Tombstone on his way back to the carrier, but he had a "friend" he wanted to bring along.
Tombstone, Bird Dog, a stranger and Gator emerged from the helicopter, Gator on a stretcher. Until I'd actually seen them on my flight deck, I'd hardly dared to believe it was true. Tombstone I hadn't been certain about, but I'd been worried about his safety. And Bird Dog and Gator, as much as I hated to admit it, I'd virtually given up for lost. It was like seeing ghosts walk back across the flight deck. The gongs confirmed it, four of them, followed by the words "Admiral United States Navy." That shook me out of the silent fascination with the camera and brought me to my feet. I waited standing in the middle of my office, barely able to contain myself. I'd wanted to be up on the flight deck, just to see for myself. But with threat indications all over the board, I needed to be here, right next to TFCC.
Tombstone would understand ― in my place, he would have done the same thing.
There was no knock, no warning. The door to my office burst open, and I faced two of the dirtiest, filthiest, smilingest aviators I have ever seen in my life.
Tombstone crossed the room in three quick strides and buried me in a bear hug so hard I thought he'd crack ribs. Good thing I was in my old khakis ― mud and dirt cascaded down off of him, smearing everything that he touched.
Not that I cared. Hell, I would have let him hug me naked if he'd wanted to at that point.
"You made it back," I finally said as Tombstone pulled back. There was a wholly joyous expression on his face, one of sheer pleasure in being alive.
"Did you let Tomboy know?" he asked immediately. He glanced around the room. "I thought she'd be here."
"She would have, if she'd known you were coming back in like this," I said. "She's flying CAP right now, on a double-cycle mission. Should be back on deck as soon as we get that piece-of-shit helicopter you flew in on out of the way."
Then the stranger came into my office, and now I recognized him. He was Yuri Kursk, and it rankled having him on my ship. Things had a tendency to explode when he was around. I'd never been able to prove it, but I was convinced he was a player in too many dirty tricks on our last cruise. From the look on Kursk's face, Tombstone had already done a good job of convincing him what shallow ice he was on on board my ship.
"But she knows?" Tombstone asked again. "You told her I'm okay, right?"
"Yeah, we told her. She knows. She said to tell you after she hits the tanker, she'll buster back."
Tombstone nodded, relief flooding his face. "It's just as well. Batman, I've got to talk to you." He gestured at Bird Dog, who was maintaining a politely nonchalant expression, pretending he hadn't watched two admirals pound each other on the back like old fools. "He needs to be here too," Tombstone continued. "Both of us have got things you have to know, but I'll go first."
"Just a second," I said. I was used to Tombstone bossing me around, but damn it, this was my ship. And my pilot who'd just come back from the dead.
I crossed over to Bird Dog and stood nose-to-nose with him for a moment, trying to scowl at him. "The next time you want me to put you on the flight schedule, I'm gonna say no," I said finally. "Damn fool ― getting yourself shot down."
There was a startled expression on Bird Dog's face for a moment, replaced slowly by a grin. "I guess next time I won't come banging on your door, Admiral."
I threw my arms around him, and gave him the same hard, quick hug that Tombstone had given me. Hell, I was already filthy, and I was so damn glad to see this young idiot back on my boat that it seemed the only right thing to do.
"Welcome back, Bird Dog," I said finally. "Now you two go ahead and sit down ― hell, don't mind the couch. I'll replace it if I have to."
With that, the two filthy aviators settled down on the couch in front of my glass table. Tombstone started first.
He cut right to the chase, and confirmed the reports I'd received about a possible nuclear-production facility in Vietnam. He mentioned the dosimeter, then the details that pertained to Yuri Kursk. I knew better than to interrupt him. Tombstone had been in my shoes before, and he knew what would be important to me and what wouldn't. He glossed over some of the personal details, and I noted pain flitted through his face. I made a mental note to get him alone later, to find out what had really happened on his search for his father.
"You need to hear about Bird Dog's adventure too," Tombstone concluded. "Start with General Hue," Tombstone ordered him.
Bird Dog got through his tale just as quickly, albeit with a few more stumblings and a trace of braggadocio padding it out. He hadn't had the years of experience that Tombstone and I had had in debriefing admirals, and it showed. I caught Tombstone smirking slightly, and shook my head slightly to let him know I'd seen it, What we saw was us, sitting in front of us as we had sat in front of other admirals twenty years earlier.
Finally, Bird Dog concluded his story. He sat quiet, obviously uncertain about whether we wanted him to remain here or to leave.
"Go get a shower and some food, Bird Dog," I said gruffly. "Then get down to Intel ― Commander Busby is going to want to see you right away, I know."
"Thank you, Admiral," he said, and stood. An expression of relief crossed his face. "I'll do that."
After Bird Dog left, I gazed at Tombstone somberly. "You want to shower first, or do we go over the plans now?"
"A quick planning session, then I'll shower," Tombstone said. He reached down, scratched at his crotch, and grimaced. "I'll tell you the rest of it after I'm cleaned up."
I had the Chief of Staff call in my Strike Ops Officer, my Operations Officer, CAG, and Lab Rat. They all looked stunned as they walked into the room and took in Tombstone's condition, but they quickly masked their expressions. I cut through the pleasantries, and told them what we had to do.