“Bad enough, Admiral.” The engineer shook his head. “The damage below-decks is relatively minor. In relative terms, that is. A few staterooms, some personal belongings?nothing structural is damaged.”
“And the flight deck?” Batman demanded.
“You’ve lost the waist catapult. There’s no way around it, Admiral.
The flight deck is slightly warped, and I can’t be sure the shuttle run is even straight, much less that it retains sufficient structural integrity for launches. If we absolutely had to, like if we were in the middle of the war?well, you might chance it. But it would be just that?a chance. It might break loose the first launch and blast shrapnel into your flight deck crew and your aircraft, or it might actually work for a while. That’s even assuming it’s straight and it doesn’t tear itself apart under the steam pressure. Or that it holds pressure at all.”
The engineer shrugged helplessly. “Without a lot more facilities than I’ve got on the ship, I just can’t tell. For now, my recommendation is no flight operations whatsoever off the waist catapult.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Batman’s voice was cold and determined. “But at least we have the two forward catapults still working, right? No problem with them?”
The engineer nodded, the Captain of the aircraft carrier also nodding thoughtfully behind him. “As far as I can tell, there should be no problem with the forward catapults. There’s enough separation that maybe there was a little stress on the deck there, but not enough to throw it out of true. There are no signs of damage, at any rate?I’d like to have the shipyard look it over next time we’re in, but I think it’s safe.”
Think it’s safe. Batman nodded. That would have to do for now.
“Admiral?” Tiltfelt’s voice was sharp, demanding. “Did you hear me? What does all of this mean?”
Batman whirled to face the civilian. “It means that we’ve lost a part of our fighting capability. Sir.”
Batman let the last word drip venom. “Not so much that we’re sitting ducks, but we can’t launch as rapidly as we’d like to be able to. Is there any part of that you don’t understand?”
“What do you mean by speaking to me in that tone of voice?” Tiltfelt’s face was flushed.
“I mean that I have a job to do and you’re getting in my way. Sir, I’ll tell you everything you need to know?when I can. But I’m not going to let what amounts to a courtesy back-briefing to a civilian interfere with my ability to conduct operations off this carrier. Is that absolutely clear to you?”
“Why you-“
Batman cut him off. “Because if it’s not, then it would make me happier than shit to strap your soft little civilian butt into a COD, throw it off the pointy end from one of my two remaining catapults, and send your ass back to the States. At least that way I won’t have to put up with having a convention of saboteurs aboard my ship.”
Bradley Tiltfelt stood and drew himself up to his full height. At six feet, three inches, he was an imposing figure. Even rousted from his stateroom in the middle of the night by the explosion and General Quarters alarm, he managed somehow to look as though he’d spent hours getting dressed. The clean, crisp white shirt, the old school tie so carefully knotted?in spite of himself, Batman was grudgingly impressed. Almost as much as he was dismayed by the State Department representative’s inability to understand the situation in which Batman now found himself.
“If you are implying that any of our allies are responsible for this unfortunate occurrence, then I certainly hope you have the facts to back you up,” Tiltfelt said coldly. “Otherwise, I’d suggest you keep your paranoid ravings to yourself.”
“Just who on this ship do you think would want to set a bomb off, mister?” Batman exploded. “Some seaman pissed because he didn’t get a letter from home? Or because the chief yelled at him? I don’t think so. We’re the ones who live here. We depend on this ship. And don’t you think it’s just terribly odd that the explosion occurred in Admiral Magruder’s cabin?”
“The only logical cause of this explosion is one of two things,” Tiltfelt continued as though Batman hadn’t spoken. “First, one of your subordinates has failed to supervise some sort of system properly and it exploded.”
Tiltfelt waved one languid hand in the air as though filling in the details. “I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find that’s certainly a possibility. The second, of course, is exactly as you’ve outlined?some disgruntled sailor under your command, no doubt alienated by your lack of concern for his physical well-being and morale, has become sufficiently disgruntled to make this sort of statement.”
“That wasn’t a statement, that was a fucking bomb. Just how many sailors do you think have access to that sort of material?”
“Probably all of them, judging from the degree of leadership and organization I see on board this vessel,” Tiltfelt shot back. “And until you have hard evidence to back it up, you’d best refrain from idle and malicious speculation. Clearly, there is no reason for our guests to wish to disrupt the very peace process that they’ve initiated.”
“The State Department-” Batman roared. He was cut off by the appearance of a tall, shaken figure in the hatch leading to the passageway.
“Gets people killed.”
Tombstone stepped over the knee-knocker and entered the conference room. He looked at Batman, quelling his friend’s rage with a supportive look, then turned his gaze to Tiltfelt. “That’s how it always is, isn’t it? State starts yelling about diplomatic solutions and the second it goes wrong, they blame the military. Well, mister, maybe Sixth Fleet draws a little more water than you think it does. You’re excused, Mr. Tiltfelt. Please remain in your cabin until I call you.”
“Just where do you people get off with this?” Tiltfelt sputtered. He turned and looked at his aides behind him as though for support. “First you provoke an attack, and then you try to blame the logical consequences for your actions on the same parties. Just who do you people think you are?”
Tombstone smiled. “I think I know exactly who I am. I’m the commander of Sixth Fleet. And you’re here solely at my sufferance, Mr. Tiltfelt. Solely at my sufferance.”
Tombstone turned to Batman and said formally, “Admiral, may I have the use of your communications officer for a few minutes?”
“Of course, sir,” Batman replied in just as formal tones. “My ship is at your disposal.”
Tombstone nodded. “Have someone call in for me, please. Tell them I need a secure circuit to the Chief of Naval Operations in Washington, D.C. He should be in his office at this hour, but if not, have someone hunt him down. It’s imperative that I speak with my uncle immediately.”
Tombstone turned back to Bradley Tiltfelt. “As you reminded me right after you arrived on board, my uncle is Chief of Naval Operations.”
Tiltfelt was almost apoplectic now. His color had deepened from red into a shade of purple that looked downright dangerous. “I don’t care if the president is your mother. You’re damned well not getting away with this.”
“Oh, I think I am. You’ll think that too after I talk to him.” Tombstone’s voice was almost mild, even more dangerous by the sound of it.
“Please remain in your stateroom,” he repeated. “I’ll call you if I need you?if that ever happens.”
Five minutes later, the communicator buzzed Tombstone on the intercom.
“I have the CNO’s office, Admiral,” the communications officer announced. “His people are standing by for you.”
Again, the delicate dance of elephants. The staff at the CNO’s office was not about to leave their four-star boss waiting on the line for a three-star fleet commander. Staff and assistants took the ranks of their bosses almost as seriously as the officers themselves did. More so in some cases. Tombstone sighed and picked up the receiver. “This is Admiral Magruder,” he announced.
“Admiral, good morning. Please stand by?the CNO will be on the line shortly.”
An annoying popular tune started playing softly on the line.
His uncle’s voice interrupted it seconds later.
“Tombstone. What the hell happened?”
“An explosion on board, sir.” Tombstone quickly sketched the outline of what had happened and the damage to the carrier. He concluded with: “State seems to think they carry a pretty big stick around here, Admiral. I need to ask you now?how much leeway do I have?”
He knows what I really mean, Tombstone thought. No matter how I phrase it, he’s going to read between the lines. I don’t have to tell him how much the whole idea of this conference pissed me off, that I know he sent me out of Washington before I could learn about it simply because of that. He knows what I would have said, how much I
