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He looked directly into the screen and into her face. “What we really need down here is a leader who can pull a group of diverse elements into a fist and a good, innovative doctrine person who can figure out where that fist needs to be aimed. You’re my first choice in both of these areas.”

“I’m very flattered, sir.” Amanda’s reply came slowly, but her mind was racing. “Will this be a TDY assignment?”

“Think long term, Commander. The show down here is going to take a while. You’d have to be released from the command of the Cunningham.”

Amanda’s knee-jerk reaction was a decisive no. But then she paused for a moment. Was she giving up command of her ship? Or just of an office trailer parked beside a dry dock?

“What will the package entail, sir?” she asked cautiously.

“The core element of the Tactical Action Group is our new seafighter squadron, PGAC-1. That’s why Phil Emberly was initially chosen for the TACBOSS slot. As backup, you’ll have a pair of Cyclone-class Patrol Craft and eventually a Special Operations Capable Marine company for boarding and security operations. The whole package will stage off of the Mobile Offshore Base we have positioned off the coast of the West African Union.”

“What are the mission parameters?”

“Twofold. To enforce the U.N. maritime embargo in place against the West African Union and to provide security for the nation of Guinea against hostile naval incursions.”

Amanda called up her mental chart file of the world’s oceans. “Admiral, you’re talking about covering over seven hundred miles of extremely wild coastline with only five small hulls.”

Macintyre smiled without humor. “I indicated it would be a challenge, Commander. U.N. operations are not popular with Congress currently. They’re holding us to an absolute bare-bones deployment. Minimal assets. The counter to that, as I see it, is to deploy a small Tactical Action Group backed by extensive intelligence assets in the hope we can get there ‘firstest with the mostest.’ You’ll have Commander Rendino’s full Tactical Intelligence Network at your direct disposal, including two reconnaissance drone squadrons and two aero-stat-equipped intelligence-gathering ships.

“You will also receive a degree of assistance from the other UNAFIN assets. The French have a corvette squadron running offshore interdiction patrol, and Great Britain has a mine hunter group and a patrol helicopter squadron working Guinea coastal security.”

“What about my own aviation assets, sir?” Amanda inquired.

“Beyond the drones and a small composite Marine and Navy utility helicopter group for logistics and support, you don’t have any.”

“No strike aircraft at all?”

“Not authorized. Since the West African Union doesn’t have an air force, the Security Council couldn’t see why we needed one either. Don’t ask — I don’t pretend to understand the logic of it either.”

Macintyre leaned forward and rested his crossed arms on the console before him.

“There’s your package, Commander. You will be decisively undermanned and handicapped by the rules of engagement set by the U.N. The tactical situation is fluid and deteriorating, and you will be fighting a tough, cunning, and capable enemy. We are just beginning to learn how much so. This will be hazardous duty. For you especially in more ways than one.”

Amanda frowned. “What do you mean, sir? Why me?”

“I had a long talk with BUPERS before calling you in. The Bureau of Personnel was not pleased with the notion of you going to Africa. In fact, they screamed bloody murder at even the concept.”

“Why?”

Macintyre smiled wryly into the screen. “It seems that certain parties in high places have been doing some career planning for you, Commander.”

“I still don’t understand, sir.”

“Here’s the situation. It appears you have become some thing of a PR icon within the New Age Navy. Living proof that the gender integration within the Fleet has been a success. On completion of your tour aboard the Duke and your obtaining your fourth bar, it has been decided that you will be given a high-visibility position as military attache to one of our major embassies overseas. Either France or Moscow — they haven’t decided yet.

“Following that, as a senior captain, you’ve been penciled in to command a major unit within Fleet Amphib, probably a Wasp-class LHD. Beyond that point, even BUPERS gets a little vague. However, I get the impression that if you don’t blot your copybook, you may very well end up as the youngest female rear admiral in the history of the United States Navy.”

Amanda shook her head, a little awed. “I had no idea.”

“That’s the game plan as it was given to me.” Macintyre lifted an eyebrow sardonically. “Consider that copybook proviso well, Commander. If you take on this Africa job, and if it blows up in your face, as it gives every indication of doing, you could end up flushing this entire chain of events, along with the rest of your career, right down the head.

“In return, all I can offer is a drumhead promotion. This TACBOSS position calls for a four-striper. You’ll be receiving the provisional rank of captain. In title only for the moment, however. You’ll receive none of the pay and benefits, just the responsibilities, until we can get the rank officially on the books. You may consider that another big if and when as well.”

Macintyre lifted his hands in an apologetic gesture. “In the face of all this, Commander, please feel free to tell me to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. There will be no recriminations if you elect not to accept the assignment.”

Amanda looked away from the screen. Be careful of what you wish for, for you may receive it. For weeks now, she’d been brooding about what her future might hold. Suddenly she had more futures than she could possibly ever hope to live. She’d whined about not being ready to give up her combat command yet. Well, here was another combat command, with a plentiful supply of real combat to go with it. She’d procrastinated about making decisions about what to do with her life. And apparently there were plenty of people more than willing to make those decisions for her.

Somewhere, the Fates were laughing themselves silly.

For Amanda Garrett, making major decisions rapidly was second nature. She looked back into the video monitor. “Yes, sir, you’re right. It sounds like a challenging assignment. I’ll be pleased to take it.”

On the far end of the link, Maclntyre’s palm slammed triumphantly down on the console top. “Ha! Rendino said you’d go for it!”

Amanda took a deep, deliberate breath. With the commitment made, she suddenly felt better than she had in a long time. For right or wrong, she had a course to steer. “I beg your pardon, sir, but there will be one proviso.”

“Name it, Commander.”

“If I have to leave my ship to take this job, I want to know that I’m leaving her in the best hands possible. I want my executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Ken Hiro, to get the Cunningham. And not just to fill out my tour. He gets a full hitch of his own.”

Macintyre scowled. “Officers generally don’t move up to fill the command slot on the same ship they’ve served aboard as an exec.”

“I’m fully aware of that, sir. But I’m also aware that the stealths are the current glamour command within the surface warfare community. If you’ll pardon my French, every swinging dick in the fleet is pulling strings and recalling favors to get a shot at an SC-21-class hull. Now, Ken Hiro is a superb officer. However, he doesn’t have any Sea Daddies in his corner except for me. I know you must be cooking the books to get me transferred, so leave the oven on a few minutes more. Get Ken bumped to full bull and get him the command slot for the Duke. You can consider it a package deal.”