Strike nodded thoughtfully. "Sure, we can pull that one off. Plenty of weapons on board. The political and international implications, though, that's not in my ballpark. It's up to you, Admiral. How hard do you want to hit them?"
Yuri Kursk spoke up immediately. "There can be no doubt that we have to eliminate this," he announced. "The site must be so completely demolished that there is no hope of extracting usable fissionable material from the debris. You understand that, of course?"
"I understand enough," I said. The bastard had some nerve, sitting in my office and lecturing me after trying to shoot down a couple of my pilots. I ought to turn him over to the squadron and let them teach him a fatal lesson about attacking American forces.
But hell, what Kursk wanted us to do was a good idea ― I went along with it completely ― but no pissant Ukrainian commander was going to start planning my operational missions for me. Bad enough that they'd had to trick us into doing what we would have done anyway, but like I said before ― this was my ship. The little shit needed to start learning that.
"Dumb bombs is all we have left," the Operations officer said. "We used the penetrating rounds on the revetment. How heavily is this place fortified?"
I glanced over at Lab Rat. "We can expect some concrete shielding, of course. The fact that they're wearing dosimeters means they're at least conscious of and paying attention to the radiation levels. Other nations are usually a lot less picky than we are, but I'd expect to see some degree of shielding."
"How much?" Strike pressed. "Will the five-hundred-pound bombs do the job?"
"You know anything about this, Kursk?" I asked, turning back to the Ukrainian. "Seems your intelligence has been pretty good to date."
"I'd be speculating, Admiral," he said, a new note of respect in his voice. "But I would agree with Commander Busby. The odds are that the shielding is adequate, but just barely. Five-hundred-pound bombs should do it."
"Well, then." I stood, dismissing the group. "Get your plans together ― I'd like to roll on this tonight, if we can."
"Gonna be a tougher target at night," Strike said.
"We've got good ground intel, though," Lab Rat answered. "I'm pretty confident on my SAM site locations, and I think you can get around them. We've put a lot of time into this one."
To make up for the stuff that you didn't know last time, I added silently. Over the last week, Lab Rat had been clearly preoccupied by his failure to provide adequate intelligence to his aircrews. I was glad he would have this opportunity to make it up to them.
"Tonight," I said, concluding the discussion. "Let's make it happen, gentlemen."
They all left, except for Tombstone and Yuri Kursk.
"And what about me, Admiral?" Yuri asked. "I wish to be a part of this ― it is my right."
I wheeled on him. "Nobody has rights on board my ship unless I give them to them. You got that straight, mister?" While he might not be one of my junior officers, he was very definitely junior around here.
Yuri nodded. "I must go with them," he repeated, as stubborn a man as I've ever seen stand in front of me. "I brought your Admiral Magruder back, I risked much in this plan ― I must be in on the final strike."
I sighed. "And just what are you going to do about it if I say no? You're way out of line, mister, and I've got half a mind to just turn you over to Ambassador Wexler and let her deal with you."
The conference between Than and Wexler had not been going well, not as far as I could tell. Of course, I wasn't invited to sit in on the closed meetings, but I could see the tightness around her eyes at the evening meal, hear the polite ice and venom dripping out of her voice every time she addressed Than. This impudent young officer in front of me might just have the key to resolving the entire matter.
"Admiral, please." Now the Ukrainian's voice had taken on a pleading note. "At least consider it, Admiral. I know the country well, every landmark and guidepost in it. If the strike is confused or has problems finding the target, I can get them there. I will do this, Admiral. It is more important to my country than even to yours. You must understand that."
"There is a whole lot I don't understand about this whole situation," I replied slowly. "Starting with why we have to come up with this back-alley solution to resolve this. As Admiral Magruder probably told you, there are ways to deal with this sort of problem that don't involve killing my aviators first."
Yuri nodded, and seemed to draw back inside himself. "I am sorry for that, Admiral. It was necessary."
"Then you write the letters to their families," I shot back. "You tell them how their husbands and wives died in the line of duty, died for something important. Make it meaningful for them, why don't you? Find some way to make it easier for them in the years to come that they'll be alone, raising kids, trying to make a go of it."
Yuri straightened, and a new determination was evident in his eyes. "I cannot make it any easier for them," he said quietly. "And they may never know why their spouses paid the ultimate price. But I can tell you one thing ― if you do not do this, if you do not give this mission every chance for success, you will be the one who has to live with the consequences. Not I."
An utter, dead silence settled over the room. Tombstone appeared withdrawn, disengaged from the entire confrontation. I appreciated that, since this was clearly my call, not his. Yet nonetheless, I figured his advice would be helpful. I turned to him. "Any thoughts, Admiral?"
Tombstone appeared not to hear me at first, and then his eyes slowly refocused on me. I noticed how much older he looked, drawn and drained, as though his time on the ground had sapped something vital out of him. He shook himself slightly, as though ridding himself of a bad dream, and some of the tiredness drained away. I saw the Tombstone I had known for twenty years, strong and confident, the best damn stick I'd ever known in my life.
"There's something to what he says," Tombstone began slowly. "There are a lot of things that can go wrong with a night mission. You know that." He glanced at Yuri, and something invisible passed between the two of them. It bothered me.
"But I can't support putting you in an F14 for this mission," Tombstone continued to Yuri, his voice still thoughtful. "There's no pilot on this ship that I'd risk with an inexperienced backseater, and I'm not all that sure that I want a Ukrainian having a close-up and personal look at our gear from inside the cockpit. No offense, mind you. But there are times when we haven't been on the same side of the fight. You will remember that."
Yuri nodded, and stayed silent. I gave him points for that.
"However, it might be possible to put him in an E2," Tombstone added. "Sure, there's a lot of classified gear in there as well, but there's a little bit more space. We can take some precautions, make sure we don't compromise anything." He glanced over at me, saw I was paying attention, and said finally, "There's only one thing that matters to me, old friend, and that's making something good come out of all of this. If having him on scene increases our chances of making that happen, then I'm all for it."
"He could sit in Combat," I argued, aware that my argument was weak. "You can see the entire picture from there."
Tombstone shook his head. "But not the terrain ― not the actual radar sweep and raw data. If necessary, we can take that E2 right in with us, providing fighter coverage for it, and get an eyeballs-on assessment of exactly where we are. It's not something I'd like to do ordinarily, but if we have to do it to get the mission done…" Tombstone shrugged, making it clear that while he had his opinions on the matter, the final decision was mine alone.
I sighed. "There are never any easy ones in this office, are there?" I asked him.
Tombstone shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "The easy ones get solved way down below you. Everything that gets up this far is impossible, ugly, and bites. You ought to know that by now."