"If the Cunningham was detectable using conventional resources, we would have found her. Of that I am certain, Mr. President."
Sparza gestured with the tip of his cigarette. "I fully accept your statement, General. Sit, and let us discuss what options we may now have."
Arco accepted Sparza's invitation, dropping into a chair across from his Commander in Chief. "Operationally," the Air Force man continued, "we have been taken back to the 1930s. Visual search during daylight hours only. And, as you experienced on your way in, we are losing the weather. "Heavy cloud cover over the Antarctic Convergence is forcing our aircraft down to almost wave-top altitude, cutting into their range and search coverage. They are also encountering rain, snow, and heavy fog. We can expect that the North Americans are taking maximum advantage of this kind of environment."
Sparza produced a brief grunt of ironic laughter. "Only the day before yesterday I said that the weather was on our side. General Winter is proving to be a fickle ally."
"I regret the situation, sir," Arco replied, failing to suppress his own sensation of irony. "My aircrews are doing their best."
"I do not doubt it, General. Nor do I need to be reminded that it was my decision that committed us to this course of action. Now, for a moment let us assume that you do locate your target. Aeronaval was hit hard when they tried to take her on yesterday. What will your plan be?"
"We have moved our entire Rafale force south. Grupo Two and Eight are here at Rio Grande. Grupo Six is up at Rio Gallegos with what's left of our tanker force. All three squadrons are holding a full eight-plane antishipping strike on cockpit alert. If we can find her, we will kill her, but we have got to find her first."
Sparza tilted his chair back and snubbed out his cigarette in the conference table's pristine ashtray. "Arco, I am fully aware of the doubts you have had about Conquistador South. However, I also believe that for the moment, you are the man in the best position to save this operation. You have told me of all of the conventional things that you are doing. Well and good. But what about the unconventional things that might be done?"
Ironies upon ironies. "There is… something, sir," Arco began slowly. "I have been in communications with some of my technical specialists, people involved in stealth-technologies research. They say that there may be a way to penetrate the kind of antiradar defenses the North Americans are using, but it will require a great deal of manpower and equipment."
"Ah."
Sparza tilted his chair forward again. "Maybe we can have that coffee now, General. And then you can tell me what you will need, and why."
29
She knelt down once more in the narrow aisle beside the sickbay bunk.
"How's it going?"
Erikson gave a weak thumbs-up. "Pretty good, Captain. I think I'm doing a little better."
Amanda glanced back to where Chief Robinson stood in the ward doorway. The Corpsman gave a minute shake of her head.
"That's good. That's why I came around. I was hoping to hear something like that."
"Yes, ma'am. I've been telling everyone who's come through that I'll be back on duty soon."
"A lot of visitors today?"
"Yeah, a couple of my buddies from Deck Division. My chief, Mr. Nichols. Even the new lieutenant that came aboard at Rio. The helo pilot."
"Lieutenant Arkady?"
"Yes, ma'am. And I don't even know him."
Amanda mentally cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I guess he was saying hello while he had the chance. The fleet will be coming up with us in a few more days and we'll be shifting you over to a carrier."
"Just getting used to this ship, ma'am."
"Well, don't worry. We're going to get you back."
"Good. Like it here."
His voice trailed off and his eyes closed. Amanda rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment, then got to her feet. Moving forward into the sick-bay office, she met the eyes of Chief Robinson again.
"So?"
"I'd like to think that I'm holding him stable, Captain, but I'm afraid I'd be lying to myself."
"Understood, Chief. Carry on."
Amanda stepped out into the corridor and started. Arkady was there, his arms crossed and his back against one side of the passageway. He had one boot raised and braced on the farside grab rail, wedging him in place against the increasing pitch of the ship.
"Any change?" he asked.
"Not for the good. I helped to set up the projected crew roster for the Cunningham-class, and it never occurred to me or to anyone else that a doctor would be an absolute necessity for a ship intended for independent operations. Damn, damn, damn! How could I have missed that?"
"We got spoiled. The surface navy's gotten used to looking back over its shoulder and seeing that big old flattop out there, serving as the font from which all blessings flow."
It was a good analysis.
"You're right," Amanda agreed, leaning back against the bulkhead beside him. "Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it now."
"Beyond the best we can with what's available? Nope."
"More Arkady honesty?"
"Yep. There's always plenty of that to spread around."
Amanda smiled in spite of herself. There were other places she could have been just then, not the least of which was topside, looking into the way the weather was kicking up. But she elected to stay and stretch out this exchange of words for a few moments more.
"Erikson said that you'd been in to visit him," she commented. "Why? Do you know him from somewhere?"
"Can't say that I do. But he's a point of concern for the ship and the mission. I've got a hunch decisions are going to have to be made about this kid, and I figure I should at least get to know him well enough to say hello."
Amanda glanced sideways at Arkady. Could he know that this was the same way she felt about Erikson? She'd learned that this man had the knack of being able to touch her emotionally. Now she suspected that he could also read her the same way, and she wasn't sure if she was as pleased about that. Again she found herself wondering just what might have happened back there in Rio, given a little more time.
She turned to face her Air Division leader, one shoulder still resting against the bulkhead. "When I came into my first command," she said slowly, "I learned that it was like inheriting a family. A family of strangers mostly, but the sense of responsibility is there."
Arkady nodded an agreement. "At OCS they kept harping about how a good officer must maintain a degree of detachment from their personnel. I gather the concept is that the more personally involved you are, the tougher it is to send your hands into a high-risk situation."
"I was fed the same line at Annapolis," she replied, "and I've known a great number of our profession who stick to it religiously. It always seemed to me, though, that the best commanding officers I ever had were the ones who had the guts to give a damn, even when it cost them."
"I concur."
Amanda suddenly realized that Arkady was studying her again, using the same look of frank, level-eyed admiration he had used back on the beach at Ipanema. Only this time, it was her emotional clothing he was stripping away, momentarily making her feel very naked indeed.
The Duke lifted heavily into an oncoming swell, and with her attention diverted, Amanda missed the shift of the deck. She stumbled against Arkady and his arm came around her waist, catching and supporting her. She caught a whiff of him, the mix of aftershave, healthy male, and aviation fuel. The warmth of his body jolted her like a charge of electricity. She jerked back, Arkady's arm resisting for a moment before releasing her.