pickup, and the successful exit from the area. When he’d finished, he said, “I don’t care what the admiral told you, sir. Special Forces missions are always strictly a volunteer evolution. If you’ve got any doubts about this plan, we’ll look for somebody else to fly it. We can’t afford any weak links in this chain.” He stared searchingly at the two aviators.
The pilot leaned back on his chair. A slow smile crept across his face. “I think if anybody can pull this off, you can. And as for your flight crew,” he glanced at his copilot, who nodded, “I think you’ve already found your crew.”
“You’re sure this will work?” Batman asked.
“Yes, sir,” Huerta said gravely. “We’ve torn this plan apart every way we can think of, and it’s our best bet for getting Sikes out. But part of it depends on that fancy new aircraft of yours.”
Batman leaned back in his chair and sighed. “The JAST bird. I notice it plays a heavy role in this.”
The chief nodded. “You bet. We need that high resolution look-down, shoot-down capability. The regular Tomcat’s a pretty impressive bird, but it’s not enough for this mission.”
Batman leaned forward and steepled his hands in front of him. “You probably don’t know it, but we’ve got a serious problem here. The JAST pilot who flew the bird out was medevaced early this morning. Appendicitis.” He paused, and surveyed the dismayed expressions on the three men’s faces. “Any RIO can run the backseat on the JAST aircraft. The avionics are enough alike that it just takes a few hours of briefing. But the power plant, the flight controls, and the whole performance envelope are so different that it takes hours to get certified on it. Other than the man who drew it out, there’s only one person on this boat qualified to fly it.”
“Well, whoever it is, we need him,” the chief said sharply.
Batman started to smile. “I think I can convince him to go along with this. You see, it’s been a while since he’s gotten to fly much, and he’s pretty eager for a couple of extra hops.”
“Just who the hell is this non-flying aviator?” the pilot said. “Everybody flies on this boat, everybody.”
Batman’s smile broadened slightly. “Me.”
“Come on, Tombstone, you know it’s the right thing to do.” Batman’s voice held a pleading note. “That man on the ground deserves it.”
“I’m not so sure,” Tombstone said slowly. “One of the hardest lessons that I had to learn when I was in your shoes was that my flying days were quickly coming to an end. I hated it, but I finally admitted that I was of more use in TFCC than in the cockpit.”
“This situation’s a little bit different, don’t you think?” Batman argued. “If it were a matter of just sending a Tomcat — hell, I’ve got plenty of men who’d volunteer. And women, too,” he added hastily. “But the JAST bird is something else.”
Tombstone sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, his old wingman was right. “And we can’t get another pilot out from Pax River?” he asked one last time.
“No, Admiral.” Batman’s voice took on a formal note. “Too long of a time lag. Things are moving too fast — by the time we got someone else out here, that SEAL could be dead. The mission has to go ASAP.”
Tombstone sighed. “All right,” he finally capitulated. “What do you want me to do?”
“I could use your help, sir,” Batman continued, the same grave tone still in his voice. “As you point out, the battle group needs an admiral in command of it. I respectfully request that the admiral shift his flag to the USS Jefferson, and relieve me of command. At least for the duration of this mission,” he concluded.
Tombstone sat bolt upright in his chair. “You want to be relieved?”
“Well, I’d just as soon it weren’t permanent,” Batman said wryly. “But things go wrong. In the event that something happens, I don’t want Jefferson left alone. And since you’ve been admiral on board her before, you’re just the man to relieve me.”
It made sense. Damn, but it made sense. “Okay, Batman,” he said, surprised at how eager he suddenly was to feel the steel decks of Jefferson under his feet again. “You realize there’s going to be hell to pay for this later?”
“There always is, isn’t there, Stoney?” Batman chuckled slightly. “But we bring that SEAL home and all screw-ups are forgiven. You know that.”
Tombstone nodded, all too aware that what Batman said was true. “Expect my COD flight in two hours, then,” he said, and broke the connection.
He stood up from his desk and started pacing the room. The amphibious ship was a fine vessel, but it was nothing compared to being on an aircraft carrier. To be in command of one one more time, just one last time — he sighed, thinking about how many lasts he was coming to in his career these days. “One last time,” he said aloud. He smiled briefly. “A hell of a way to end a career.”
Six hours and one Harrier flight later, Rear Admiral Matthew Magruder took command of the aircraft carrier USS Jefferson, relieving Rear Admiral Edward Wayne in a short, hastily arranged ceremony. And, even though he knew it was only for a short period of time, it felt damned good to be back.
Sikes regained consciousness slowly, driven out of the inky blackness by the sharp red flashes reverberating in his head. He groaned as the flashes turned into sharp pain. He moved feebly, trying to paw off the hand on his shoulder that was causing it.
“Go away,” he mumbled. Damn, what was the matter — couldn’t they let him sleep? Suddenly, he recalled where he was and what had happened. He forced his eyes open, almost blinded by the sparks that flew across his vision.
Slowly, the dark blur above him sharpened into the concerned face of White Wolf. How could I ever have thought him expressionless? Sikes wondered briefly, then was distracted by the pounding pain in his head. He groaned again, unable to suppress it.
“At least you’re alive,” White Wolf said softly. He glanced around at something in the distance. “They smashed you on the back of the head. I wasn’t sure whether-“
Sikes tried to shake his head and winced at the effort. “Talking,” he croaked, barely able to force the words past his throat.
“They don’t seem to mind it right now, for some reason. Here they come.”
Sikes heard the soft crunch of boots on ice, and two arctic pieces of footwear loomed into view. “Sit him up,” a voice ordered harshly.
“I’m okay,” Sikes protested weakly. He felt hands under his shoulders, grabbing his parka, pulling him into a sitting position.
“Drink,” the voice continued. A hand thrust a mug in front of his face. Sikes reached for it, all too aware of the trembling in his hands.
To his surprise, he found that the outside of the mug was hot. A tantalizing aroma reached his nostrils. Coffee, he noted. Suddenly, that sounded like a very good idea.
“Well, we’re still alive. For what that’s worth,” he said finally.
CHAPTER 12
“You’re sure about this?” Tombstone shouted, raising his voice to be heard over the cacophony on the flight deck.
Batman grinned. “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything, Stoney. This mission ain’t got a chance in hell unless I fly lead on it. You know that. Besides, I’ve got that hotheaded Bird Dog up there to watch out for. He and Gator have more time circling this piece of ice than any other crew on the boat. I’ll get them in, they’ll dump some ordnance, and we’ll all be back on board in time for midrats. Hell, I’d go it alone if my bird could carry enough two-
