He spent the next five minutes reeling off a set of orders, directing the La Salle to take station on the west coast of Turkey. Finally, after a last congratulatory comment, Tombstone replaced the receiver. He stared at it for a moment, then started laughing again.
“It’s done, Captain.” The fire-control technician looked up at him with bleary, battle-worn eyes. “I’ve downloaded a complete retargeting package.”
“Let’s hope it works,” Captain Heather answered. He walked out of Combat up and forward to the bridge. Normally his station during a missile launch would be in Combat, but this one he wanted to see himself.
Could the vertical launch tubes take it?
He shook his head?there was still no real answer on that. The flooding had been contained, and the tubes appeared to be structurally sound, but there was no way to really tell how much damage the mine explosions had done. The delicate circuitry of the missiles might have been fatally jarred, the tubes cracked somewhere they couldn’t see and unable to maintain the air pressure that they needed to lift the missiles out of their tubes. He stared down at the hatches on the deck, wondering just how much of his combat capability he had left.
Finally, he turned to the Officer of the Deck. “Weapons free. Fire when ready.”
“Weapons free, fire when ready, aye, sir,” the OOD echoed. He picked up the bitch-box speaker and relayed the order to Combat.
The captain held his breath and waited. A slow rumble shook the ship, deepening and spreading throughout every structural member. The square cover on the first tube popped open, and the captain gazed down into the blackness inside it. The sound built, higher and higher, until it encompassed his entire world. Finally, with a final shriek, a Tomahawk missile burst out of the vertical-launch cell, then seemed to hover over the deck for the barest instant before its motor ignited. It splashed fire down on the deck, charring the nonskid, then tipped over and streaked away from the ship at speeds almost impossible to imagine.
Moments later, the scenario repeated itself. In all, four Tomahawk missiles lifted out of their cells and headed for Ukraine.
The captain released his breath, giddy from pain and lack of oxygen.
“Good job, people.” He let his voice convey more than words ever could. “Someone find me the corpsman. I think-“
The engineer caught him as he crumpled to the floor.
“Here they come,” Batman said as he glanced at the Plat camera. “First thirsty Tomcat on board.”
With the carrier now in open water, the fighters that had taken the initial brunt of the raid were coming back on board for refueling and rearming. La Salle’s Harriers took over the air battle, decimating the already thin ranks of Turkish fighters while the American air base steamed threateningly toward their coast.
Batman kept his eyes moving quickly between the large-screen tactical display and the Plat camera. As fast as the technicians were working, it looked like it might not even be necessary. One by one, starting immediately after the missile attack on Ukraine, the Turkish fighters were breaking off and heading for home, escorted by La Salle’s Harriers and the remaining Tomcats.
11
Packmeyer was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. They sagged, threatening to snap shut at any second. He took another swig of coffee, trying to concentrate on what the men were saying. It was starting to make sense, such as it was.
What startled him more than anything was not the facts of the situation. He could understand Ukraine’s motivation, and while not sympathizing, could view things from their perspective. The five Turks gathered around the table in front of him would no doubt disagree, but Packmeyer had to admit a grudging admiration for both their technology and their tactics. It might have worked?almost had.
“So where are we now?” he asked again, all too aware of how thick his tongue felt in his mouth, of the slight slurring at the edge of his words.
God, he was tired. After running on adrenaline and coffee for forty-eight hours, he had absolutely no resources left. There was nothing, short of an incoming missile raid on his position, that could get him excited now. Or so he thought. Seconds later, it turned out he was wrong.
“We have sources?and we know you have contact with the American carrier.” The senior military officer shrugged. “However, given our political climate right now, it is not possible for us to contact the carrier directly. You understand.” He spread his hands in a gesture of requesting understanding.
“The carrier’s not likely to want to talk to you anyway,” Packmeyer said, aware that the words were blunt and unpolitical, but beyond caring. “Your mines damned near took out one of their ships, and the carrier has sustained damage as well. They’ve lost men, aircraft?hell, they’re not likely to talk to you at all.”
“We know that. That is why we wish to enlist your assistance,” a second man said.
Mike assessed him carefully. A moderate, he knew from the man’s reputation, one who’d been gaining political power for the last five years.
Some had even mentioned him for the presidency of Turkey, but that had vanished about six months ago as Muslim radicals gained ascendancy. Now, all bets were off.
“You want me to call the carrier for you?” Mike asked.
“Exactly,” the second man said. “From the Naval base.”
“Huh?”
“We are taking you to the mine-control facility,” the second man continued. “There, we will allow you to observe all operations as we stand down the field from tactical activation. You will thus be able to assure the carrier that we have corrected the mistakes made by our predecessors and have assumed a neutral posture. They will not believe it from us?perhaps they may from you.”
“Don’t tell me that Izmir is the only facility you have,” Mike said accusingly, now feeling a slight trickle of anger. How could they think he was so ignorant after all these years in Turkey?
He was a reporter, by God. He knew what went on in this country.
“The other facilities are standing down as well,” the man continued. “There is not time to take you to each one of them immediately, but we will if you require it. Indeed, we would invite a team from the American carrier to inspect each one individually. We will even offer our own vessels as escorts for the Americans as they leave the Black Sea. You see, mistakes have been made?not only by Ukraine, but by our former government as well. We wish to rectify those immediately and return to a civil, supportive relationship with the United States.”
Mike shook his head wearily. In the last forty-eight hours he had gone from being a bureau chief and producer for one of ACN’s main overseas stations to resuming a long-forgotten position as a field reporter. And now this?damn, he was practically an ambassador.
Oddly enough, he felt some of the weariness start to seep out of his bones. It was a responsibility?one that he had to try his best to fulfill. He stood up from the table, feeling his knees and hips creak as he stretched. “Let’s go,” he said simply. “The sooner the better for both countries.”
“If we can believe it, then it represents a major change in our tactical situation,” Lab Rat said. “And I’m inclined to believe that the Turks are sincere about this.”
“Especially if they provide escort,” Batman added. “Frankly, I agree with Commander Busby. If Ukraine was behind this from the start, and Turkey was undergoing a coup d’etat at the same time, it’s easy to see how the political scenario could get totally cluster-fucked. It sounds like they’re on the right track for straightening things
