"Sorry, ladies. They busted me."
"Such is life, pal. At least your little bod wasn't out there to get perforated too," Christine replied, backing out of her corner of the station. "Ah well, at least we know pretty much what the setup is. Good enough for government work."
"It isn't good enough, Lieutenant!" Amanda snapped. "I am taking this ship into a combat situation, and I cannot afford to rely on toss-off guesswork!"
Christine's eyes widened and she recoiled slightly under the impact of the words.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," she replied quietly. "We have verified one Meko 360-class destroyer and one A-69-class corvette with the convoy close-escort group. Signal intelligence has also identified the emissions signature of a second 360-class vessel. As to the remaining light escort, sat-scan verifies that it's less than three hundred feet long, diesel-powered, and it displays the emission signature of the standard Argentine light surface forces systems package.
"Possibly it could be one of their Meko 140-class corvettes or a Sparviero fast-attack craft, but, as the Argentines usually operate their naval vessels in two- or three-ship squadrons of like types, my best estimate is that it is a second A-69."
As she spoke, she watched the burst of anger drain out of Amanda to be replaced by a look of deep weariness. Christine had always thought that her friend had looked young for her age. Just for the moment, though, the reverse was true.
"We could get another drone up there in another twenty minutes, Captain," Arkady said from the control station. He had listened quietly throughout the exchange, not turning in his chair.
"No. We might need those last three Braves later, and I want to get back under EMCON. We'll go on Christine's assessment. Secure the drone systems, Arkady. Chris, have your people run a detailed analysis on the signal intelligence we've recorded off this mission. See if there might be anything out of the individual ship-emission patterns we can make use of."
"Aye, aye."
Amanda departed the bay. Lieutenant Rendino waited until her captain was well clear before she leaned back against a side console. She produced a soft, thoughtful whistle.
"She's cool, sis," Arkady said, starting to power down the workstation.
"I know. She's getting flayed worse than all the rest of us put together. It's just that I've been running with the Lady for some time now, and I've never seen the load hit her this hard before. It's kind of spooky. Sort of like God getting a migraine."
"She's cool," Arkady repeated evenly, gazing into the empty screens of his station. "She's just calling the ball for the first time and learning about all the shit they don't put in the books."
43
The little case clock in President Sparza's private office chimed softly as Harrison Van Lynden was ushered through the door. The Argentine leader rose from behind his desk and nodded a greeting.
"Good evening, Mr. Secretary. Please be seated. May I offer you a cup of coffee? "
"Yes, I'd like that, Mr. President. Thank you."
They were alone in the room. Sparza himself poured and served the steaming beverage from a silver serving set that had been placed on a side table. It was good coffee, a Colombian blend brewed strong, "fighting coffee" intended for a long, sleepless night. Van Lynden knew that a pot full of a similar grade waited for him back at the United States Embassy.
"Now, Mr. Secretary," Sparza said, resuming his seat, "how may I help you?"
"Well, the problem at hand is fairly obvious. Your ships are at sea and so are ours. In the near future, possibly tonight, they are going to meet and there is going to be a battle."
"I know. I am waiting here for the reports to come in."
"We still have time to stop this, Mr. President. That's why I came this evening in this rather semiofficial mode. I'd like to ask if there is any way at all we can cut this thing off before we take any more casualties and before the relationship between our nations is further scarred."
Sparza stared down at his desktop for a long moment. "I do not know what I can say, Mr. Secretary, except that I believe the actions we have taken are necessary and right for the future of Argentina. My people have a destiny on the Antarctic continent, and I will not deny it to them. We will not back away from this."
"Then we have to stop you. One of the things I have learned over the past few days is that there is a destiny in Antarctica, but it's one for the entire human race, not for any single nation. The United States will not be backing down either."
"Then, Mr. Secretary, there will be a battle."
"Apparently so."
Both men were quiet for a moment, both sensing that with that final declaration, their role in these developing events had passed. They had become onlookers now, no more involved in the outcome than the rest of the world.
"It's a peculiar thing," Van Lynden said finally. "There's an old truism about two wrongs never making a right. Well, I fear that our two 'rights' are about to make a cataclysmic wrong."
"Possibly. The problem with the profession of statesmanship is that other men pay for your errors and failings with their blood." Sparza leaned forward intently. "Please believe me. When we initiated planning for Conquistador South, we did not intend for there to be a loss of life. We did not desire a conflict with the United States."
"I regret, Mr. President, that you have one." Van Lynden gave the softest and briefest of laughs. "That shoots down another old truism. The one about two democracies never going to war against one another."
Sparza shrugged. "That is an unrealistic expectation. Conflict between men and nations stem from deeply held beliefs and desires. This will remain a constant for as long as men and nations have differing beliefs and desires. The mere structure of the governments involved is an irrelevancy."
"I suspect you are right, Mr. President."
Van Lynden set his cup and saucer on the edge of the desk and rose from his chair. "If you will excuse me, I'll be returning to my embassy. I think we've both got a long night ahead of us."
"We do. I shall be here if you need to communicate with me, Mr. Secretary."
"I'll be standing by as well, although I doubt there'll be much for either of us to do until it's time to start picking up the pieces."
44
"Ken, what's your assessment of their tactics?"
It wasn't a full Operations group, just a call-up of the key tactical officers into the wardroom to assess battle options. Ken Hiro and Dix Beltrain had drawn chairs up to the big table; Christine Rendino sat curled up on the couch with her feet tucked under her. Amanda paced slowly, trying to burn off the sickening residue of the day's adrenaline load.
"They have their escorts divided into a close and a distant covering force," her exec replied. "That's a classic package for convoy escort, but it seems a little bit fancy to me for this setup."
"I agree with Mr. Hiro," Beltrain added. "If I were running the Argys' show, I'd pull all my escorts in tight around the transports. Then I'd charge right down the middle with all radars blasting. I'd trust in my concentrated point defenses and ECM to break up any attack a single raider could launch."
"That makes sense," Amanda said, crossing her arms. "You might lose a couple of escorts that way, but you'd have a very good chance of being able to eat the strike and still get your convoy through. So, are the Argentines just being stupid, or do they have something else on their agenda?"
"They do," Christine said flatly. "Like your head served up on a silver platter. Those distant escorts aren't just escorts. That's a hunter-killer pack out there, targeted right on us. You can bet on it. Those guys know they've got to get in close to get at the Duke, so they're using the convoy for bait."