Danny smiled and nodded, then left.
“An impressive officer,” said Allen.
“One of the best,” said Dog. “That’s why he’s here.”
“And you’re wondering why I am, aren’t you?” said Allen. He smiled, showing signs that somewhere beneath the weight of command he did have a sense of self-deprecating humor.
Maybe.
“Actually, Admiral, what I’m wondering is why you didn’t give us a heads-up that you were coming,” said Dog.
“That’s not the way I do things,” he said abruptly.
The colonel looked over at the airman approaching with their drinks. He didn’t intend on getting into a pissing match with Allen, who as commander in chief of the Pacific Command (USCINCPAC) was one of the most powerful people in the military. The admiral commanded all forces in the Pacific, including Air Force and Army units as well as Navy. He also had considerable input at the Pentagon and, more important, the White House.
On the other hand, Dog wasn’t going to roll over for anyone. Allen had no more real business here than Dog did on the flight deck of his carriers.
Admiral Allen took a small, almost dainty sip from his mineral water as the waiter retreated. “Colonel. Tecumseh—can I call you that?”
“My friends call me Dog.”
Allen smiled indulgently. “Dog. How’d you earn that?”
“It’s God spelled backwards,” said the colonel, who didn’t mind telling the story on himself. “I was a flight leader with a bit too much of an attitude, and some people thought it fit. They were probably right.”
Allen laughed. “This was before you shot down the MiGs in the Gulf, or after?”
“My kills were unconfirmed,” said Dog, though there was little doubt he had indeed splashed the enemy planes.
Another indulgent smile from Allen. “Let’s cut to the chase,” said the admiral. “The Piranha report—what’s it going to say?”
“I would imagine it will say something along the lines of what Commander Delaford said—the system is ready to be implemented, and it’s ready for the next phase of tests, if that’s approved.”
“Specifically, concerning the test.”
Allen was undoubtedly worried about the details of the test engagement, which would show his Navy commanders—Woods especially—in a somewhat embarrassing light. With the proper emphasis, Admiral Woods—and, by extension, Admiral Allen—could be seen not only as enemies of the program, but as going overboard to scuttle it. In a politically charged atmosphere, such nuances could be deadly.
Or not. It was a game Dog had long ago decided not to play.
“Writing the report itself is not generally regarded as one of my duties,” said the colonel.
“You’ll sign off on it, though.”
“As I see my job, Admiral, it’s to develop weapons, not worry about egos that might be bruised because test results make them look bad. If you have a specific worry, maybe you ought to lay it out.”
“Steady there, Colonel. Steady.”
There were once more interrupted by the waiter, who brought out two dishes of fancy salad. Dog now regretted letting Danny leave; courtesy demanded someone keep the admiral company, and he didn’t feel like hanging
around to be harangued on what he considered a minor matter. He was somewhat surprised that Allen himself changed the conversation, turning to a totally neutral topic—the Megafortress.
Allen claimed to have long admired the big bombers, and was impressed by their showing during the recent showdown with China. Politely, Dog offered to put him in a copilot’s seat on an orientation flight.
“Can’t do it, unfortunately,” said the admiral. “Ever since the flare-up, we’ve been going nonstop. I guess you heard the press is calling it the Fatal Terrain affair. Makes good headlines for them, I guess.” He smiled wryly, but then added, “I was sorry about General Elliott.”
“Yes,” said Dog. In a brief but brutal encounter between America and China known to some as the “Fatal Terrain” affair, Elliott had given his life. He’d died successfully preventing an all-out nuclear war between the U.S. and China. He was a bonafide war hero—at least to some people who criticized the maverick general. They didn’t realize how close the communists had come to running over Taiwan—and starting World War III.
“Things are still hot there. Touchy. We’ve got a lot of assets along the coast.”
“You’re probably stretched thin,” said Dog.
“Absolutely,” said Allen. “And contrary to all the talking heads, there’s still no guarantee war won’t break out. I don’t trust the Chinese as far as I can spit, even with our carriers along their coast. And, hell, even the Indians seem to be spoiling for a fight.”
“India?”
“Oh, yes,” said Allen. “Minor incidents so far. Saber-rattling. Frankly, I don’t take them too seriously. But all South Asia’s boiling.”
Dog nodded.
“Admiral Woods is an excellent man,” said Allen. “A little competitive sometimes. Especially if he thinks the Air Force is trying to get ahead of him. Very competitive.”
“How about yourself?” ask Dog.
“Never play tennis with me.”
“I meant, do you think the Air Force is trying to get ahead of you?”
“Piranha is a Navy project, Colonel.”