He consulted his computer pad, calling up a weapons payload listing. "All cells loaded and operational. Current loading, surface-to-surface: thirty-six Harpoon Twos, twelve Standard HARMs, twelve Sea SLAMs, and twelve SCMs. ASW: thirty-six Vertical Launch ASROCs and four Aquahawks. Surface-to-air includes forty-eight LORAINs and twenty-eight ESSM quad packs. Special-mission loads include four BRAVE drones and a Zenith round."
Beltrain looked up. "We also have the standard block of alternate warheads and guidance packages in the magazines. The only glitch we have is a check yellow warning on one of the 'Poons last testing cycle. Might need some work."
"Don't fool with it, just pull it and send it home with the Boone. While you're about it, pull the Aquahawks too."
"There's nothing wrong with the 'hawks, ma'am," Beltrain replied contritely.
"Nothing except that they still don't work half of the time, even when they do check out green. Look, Dix, I know that you and General Dynamics think those contraptions are the antisubmarine wonder of the age, and I'd like to indulge you. However, this is a potential combat deployment, and I'm simply not going to waste cell space on iffy ordnance. Swap them with the Boone for whatever you think we can use, just so long as it works."
Beltrain admitted defeat. "Aye, aye, ma'am." He grinned back with an acknowledging nod.
Amanda moved on around the table from offensive to defensive systems.
"How about your people, Mr. McKelsie?"
"We're up, Captain."
"How about the Black Hole Systems?"
"Like I said, we're up."
Lieutenant Frank McKelsie was the ECM and stealth systems officer, holding sway over the Cunningham's arsenal of active and passive electronic defenses. He was an abrupt, gingery man, nervously slender with thinning red hair. He had an abrasive, bullying command style that Amanda didn't particularly like. She also suspected that he was something of a closet chauvinist as well.
On the other hand, he knew his job and got performance out of his systems and personnel. That counted for a great deal, given his area of responsibility. Besides, he had never directly challenged her authority… yet.
"Ensign, how about Air Division?"
Through no fault of her own, Ensign Nancy Delany was the O group's current weak link, her primary problem being an almost painful lack of experience. Fresh out of flight school, this had been her first blue-water deployment. As the sole helicopter pilot currently attached to the Duke, she was also the sole officer in charge of the ship's tiny air group. She had been struggling throughout the cruise to bring herself and her unit up to speed.
"We're operational, Captain," she replied softly. "I'm sure we can use some extra spares, but I'd have to check with my crew chief to get an exact list on that."
"Don't worry about it. We're going to pull the whole aviation section right off the Boone—helo, personnel, parts bin and all — and take it aboard. Ken, is that going to present any problem?"
"Not really, Captain, we're set up for two-helo operations. The only thing is, we've been using the spare berthing spaces and gear lockers for general storage."
"Well, get 'em unstored and ready for habitation."
"Aye, aye."
She returned her attention to the younger woman. "There is one thing, Ensign. The Boone's helo detachment is from your squadron and the pilot is probably going to have rank on you. I'm sorry, but it looks like you're going to get bumped off this august council."
"That's okay, ma'am. I'll survive." If anything, the rather harried-looking little brunette appeared relieved.
"Chris, how about your people?"
"We're good, Skipper," the intelligence officer replied from the end of the table. "I've got the word on the current mission database."
"Go with it."
"Okay, gang, here it is. We're putting the standard mission database together down in Raven's Roost. DIA is giving us the usual download of the usual stuff: climatics, geo-and oceanography, military TOE of the involved powers, plus all the latest chart and sat photo files.
"State is providing a political situation report on the theater of operations and a current crisis update. Oh, and one other thing. I've contacted both Antarctic Support Command and the Coast Guard to provide us with files on the South Polar operational environment and how to stay alive in same. We should have the full menu up and running in another couple of hours with standard access available through all ship's terminals."
Amanda nodded her approval. "Very good, especially those polar data files. We're going to need them. Now, can you give us a brief op-force rundown?"
"Sure thing." The intel nodded. Of all the group seated around the table, she was the only one without an active computer pad in front of her. Christine was that one-in-a-thousand individual who had been born with an eidetic memory. She hardly ever resorted to the artificial props of notes or reference material and her shipmates rarely ever doubted her declarations. They'd seen her win too much money in too many Officers' Clubs by wagering that she could quote extemporaneously and verbatim any national entry out of the latest Jane's All The World's Warships.
"Okay, people," Christine began, "our potential black hats here are the Argentines. These guys are a definite power to be reckoned with down in this part of the world. It will behoove us to act accordingly."
"I thought the Brits kicked their butts back in '82," Beltrain commented.
"They did, but their unit performance during the Falklands War varied between the pathetic to pretty darned good, depending upon the unit involved and the situation. Junior officers then — company commanders, deck officers, and flight leaders — are now senior command cadre. We have got to presume that these guys may have learned a few things.
"The four strike arms we have to be concerned about are their air force, their naval surface and submarine forces, and their naval air wing.
"The Fuerza Aérea Argentina is good. In fact, they are probably the best, most professional air force in South America. These guys made the British sweat blood. They sank five ships and shot up ten others during the course of the campaign. Current operational strength is around three hundred and fifty aircraft, about one hundred and fifty of which are combat capable. The majority of these planes are the domestically produced Pampas attack aircraft, a very typical, third world jet trainer-turned-light strike fighter. Limited range, limited air-to-air, very limited night and all-weather capability. You're not likely to see these aircraft out of sight of land.
"On the other end of the spectrum, they have about forty Dessault Rafale E's, the top-of-the-line export variant of the standard French tactical fighter. This is a very bad-ass aircraft indeed, boys and girls. Good range, good sensors, good ECM, day and night, all-weather capable, and it can deliver large amounts of all kinds of very nasty ordnance with unnerving accuracy."
"Vive la France," somebody down the table muttered.
"Moving right along to force multipliers, the Argys have no dedicated Wild Weasel or Raven aircraft, but those lovely Rafales can carry HARMs and jamming pods. Tanker assets consist of a single flight of Lockheed Hercules modified for air-to-air refueling. Airborne Early Warning assets are built around a couple of converted Boeing 737–400 airliners tricked out with Israeli Elta Phalcon phased-array radar."
"Are any of their squadrons mission-dedicated to anti-shipping?" Amanda inquired.