"What about the Antarctic Treaty conference?"
The Minister shook his head. "We have problems there as well. The other Treaty states are not reacting as we had hoped. The decisive action on the part of the United States and Great Britain is having an effect. The divisiveness and controversy we had hoped to create has not taken place. Again, we can be sure of only the ABC states. Most of the other member nations seem to be taking a wait-and-see attitude pending the outcome of the blockade."
"I am rather curious about that myself, Aldo," Sparza replied, drawing his cigarette case. He took a moment to kindle a Players with his desk lighter before continuing.
"Gentlemen, the window of opportunity for this project is closing, and the situation is critical. We must act decisively if Conquistador South is to be salvaged. Our only other option is to abort and accept the resulting diplomatic and political repercussions. Now, what can we do?"
There was a long moment of silence. Finally Admiral Fouga spoke. "The linchpin of this entire operation has always been the supply convoy and the necessity of getting it through. Very well, then, let us get it through! Now, before we are totally cut off!"
"We are already cut off, Fouga," Arco said irritably.
"The Cunningham would be on top of you before you cleared the harbor."
"Good enough, let them come. Your ghost ship is good at hiding, but to stop us, it will have to come out of the shadows and fight!"
The Fleet Commander leaned forward intently in his chair. "Mr. President, our best escort group will be covering the transports, and our best destroyer squadron will be providing distant cover for the convoy. With that kind of firepower available to me, I am certain that I can defeat any single warship that might attempt to engage us."
"You sound as if you intend to take this personally," Sparza said.
"I do, sir. I intend to command the task force myself, should you order it to sail."
"I see. Gentlemen, are there any further suggestions?" Sparza glanced around the small circle of men in his office. There was no response.
"Very well, then. Admiral, you will sortie the supply convoy and proceed to San Martin Base with all possible speed."
"Yes, sir! At once, Mr. President." Fouga began to hastily lever himself out of his chair.
"One moment more, Admiral." Sparza's voice caught him. "Your primary mission is to get that convoy through, not to hunt United States warships. Be certain that you are clear on your priorities."
"Yes, sir," Fouga replied pompously and saluted, "the Fleet will not fail you."
The heavyset naval officer picked up his briefcase and cap and started for the door.
"Fouga" — General Arco did not turn in his chair to look after the Admiral—"for the sake of your men, don't take the North Americans for granted, not for a second."
39
Retainer Zero Two, her rotors folded back parallel to her tail boom, sank down out of the night and into the red-lit pool of the hangar bay. As the elevator descended with a howl of heavy-duty hydraulics, Arkady let his head go back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. They were burning and gravelly from too many hours spent staring through a night-vision visor.
Straightening again as they reached deck level, he released his safety harness and popped the canopy latches, breaking away the rime of refrozen snow along the frame.
"How'd it go, sir?" Chief Muller asked as he helped to swing the Plexiglas panels open and to the side.
"Not too bad. A pleasant night out under the stars."
"That's only by comparison, Chief," Grestovitch cut in from the system operator's station. "Anywhere else but here and it would have been hell with the heaters busted."
"Negativism, rampant negativism, that's all I'm hearing out of that backseat anymore. That's a terrible attitude to have, Gus, even if you are telling the truth."
Arkady lifted off his helmet and painfully stood up in the cockpit. "What's the word on our ops status, Chief?"
"That depends, sir, on whether or not you still want Ensign Delany to make another sweep later this morning."
"Yeah. Why?"
"In that case, we got problems. Zero One's still down. We found ice erosion on the blades of the Fenestron, as well as cold fractures in a couple of the panels of the boom shell. We had to tear the whole fantail assembly apart again. I don't know if we can get her back together by zero four hundred."
"Okay, then she'll have to use this bird," Arkady said, swinging down over the canopy rails. "Get her prepped for a fast turnaround."
"Lieutenant, Zero Two is right up to the red-line limit on transmission time. We really need to have a look inside that gearbox before we send her out again."
"Ah, fuck it!" Arkady hooked his thumbs into his belt and scowled down at the deck. "All right, try this. Move Delany's scheduled launch time back to 0430. Any later than that and she won't be able to do anything constructive before the pixies come out at first light. If Zero Two isn't ready to fly by then, we'll just shit-can the whole operation."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Inform Ensign Delany of the situation and the schedule change and keep me advised."
"Will do."
Grestovitch stiffly dropped down beside his pilot. "I got the mission log and the sensor records downloaded, sir," he said, patting the data cassettes in his sleeve pocket.
"Good enough. I'll touch base with the Captain while you drop those off with the duty watch in the CIC. After that, consider yourself free to crawl off somewhere and lose consciousness for a couple of hours."
"Thanks, Lieutenant. That sounds real good."
"Thank you, Gus. Given the past couple of days, I find it a little bit amazing that you're still flying with me."
"Aw hell, sir. After a while, you sort of get used to being crazy."
Amanda Garrett was alone in the wardroom, unaware when Arkady entered. She was slumped forward at the mess table with her head resting in the curve of her arm. A cooling mug of tea and a half-eaten sandwich had been pushed to one side, showing how the need for sleep had won out over hunger.
Nonetheless, when Arkady quietly lowered his helmet and flight harness to the deck, the faint click of metal against Fiberglas snapped her awake like a cat. She jerked upright, looking around wildly.
"The ship is okay, Captain," Arkady said, choosing the words he knew would calm her the most readily.
She blinked and came back into herself. "Oh, hi, Arkady. When did you get in?"
"We recovered just a few minutes ago."
She glanced at her wristwatch and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "I haven't been out of it for too long, then. How did it go?"
"Not too bad," Arkady said, pulling out one of the mess-table chairs and seating himself. "We swept out about eighty-five miles to the east and didn't kick up anything on the surface except for neutral commercial traffic. I can't be as sure about subsurface contacts, but I ran a couple of sonobuoy lines and spot-checked with the dunking sonar. I think we've got clear water out there."
"I'm glad to hear it. How about the sea states?"
"Still holding at Force Three. Ceiling's down to around five hundred. The surface fog has thinned out, but we're still hitting occasional patches of freezing rain or snow."
"Is it going to give us any problem with the helicopter rendezvous?"
Arkady shrugged. "Not if the Brits know their stuff. Besides, we won't be within range for that until this afternoon. Daylight'11 make things a whole lot easier."
"That's good. Now, what about Nancy? Are you still sending her out tonight?"