stand, then stayed in his seat. She knew now that he, too, understood how things worked.
Finally, the utter stillness broke. In one smooth motion, the ambassador from Iran stood. Without looking at the rest of his allies, without saying a word, he turned and left the room.
The silence continued long enough for his first footsteps on the tiled area to be heard, the rustle of his garments, the small noises that people make when they walk. But then chaos erupted, several nations screaming for immediate recognition. Ambassador Wexler stood silent and implacable as she watched the rest of the Middle Eastern delegates walk out.
This battle had been won. The question remained who would win the war.
THIRTY-TWO
Tombstone snapped up a salute as the band began playing
He glanced down at the nonskid, sucked down the rich smell of it into his lungs. Would this be the last time he stood on a flight deck, felt the heat radiate up through his shoes?
And the flight deck itself — so pristine, the gritty feel of the nonskid not yet worn down by the controlled crashes that constituted carrier landings. There was not a trace of oil, fuel, or any other foreign substance on it, no sign that it had ever been even walked on. Everything on the ship was like that — just as it had left the craftsman’s hand, not yet marked by the crew that would someday sail in her. It made the massive aircraft carrier feel a little bit like a model home… perfect, yet not yet inhabited.
Suddenly, the president was standing in front of him. The band still played, blaring out the exuberant notes. The president studied his face for a moment, then glanced pointedly at the empty chair at Tombstone’s side. Despite the standing room only crowd, Tombstone had insisted on it — it was only right to save the seat next to him for the only person he wanted there that he couldn’t have. Although people had flown in from all around the world to be at his retirement ceremony, there was a massive, aching hole in his heart.
The president returned Tombstone’s salute then held out his hand. Tombstone dropped his salute to take it.
“How are you doing, Admiral? Really, I mean — not what you tell the rest of the world.”
Tombstone started to temper his answer, to let fall the words he’d learned to say so easily over the last month and a half. But gazing into the president’s deep blue eyes, he realized it wouldn’t wash. But if he started talking, started telling the president how he was really doing, he knew he would never be able to make it through the ceremony.
As though he were reading his mind, the president’s gaze softened. “We’ll talk later. Whatever I say in public, know this — your service to this nation has been beyond measure. And I’m for one profoundly grateful for it. Now, let’s get on with this before these old farts start dropping their salutes out of sheer boredom.”
The president turn to the crowd as
The president’s protocol officer turned pale, as did the chief of naval operations. But when the president wants to speak first at military ceremony, there’s not much anyone can do about it.
The president approached the lectern. He paused, giving the crowd a chance to settle down. “I would give anything if the circumstances were different,” he said simply. He looked back at Tombstone and said, “We’re assembled here today to observe the retirement of a great naval officer — and a great man. At some point in the program, we’ll go over the exact details of his career. You probably already know them as well as I do. But as I reviewed Admiral Magruder’s record, I found myself repeating one word — and perhaps some of you can guess what it was.
“Patriot. Admiral Magruder has been on the front lines of every conflict this nation has faced for the last several decades, putting his life on the line to protect our way of life. And, perhaps more difficult — as the admiral will tell you himself — he has had to make decisions that affected the lives of others. I can tell you from personal experience that while the danger may be less immediate, there’s no more difficult agony that one faces. And in the end, his sacrifices have been greater than those most of us have been called upon to make. And yet here he stands — a patriot. I think that’s not too strong a word.
“I could go on for hours, you know. Members of Congress tell me I often do.” There was a small, appreciative chuckle from the crowd at that. “But this is his ceremony, and I’d rather hear what Admiral “Tombstone” Magruder has to say, as I’m sure you would. Admiral?” The president stepped back from the lectern.
His uncle nudged him. “Go ahead, Stony. It’s all yours.” Tombstone stood, and found that his knees were trembling slightly. He called upon every ounce of iron will that he possessed and forced himself to walk to the lectern.
He gazed out over the front row, and saw a drawn, pale Batman sitting there in the midst of the other admirals. If there was one person who understood the agony coursing through him, it was Batman. His best friend had not yet been able to speak a full sentence to him, his voice growing thick and harsh every time he tried. Tombstone knew that his old friend held himself personally responsible for Tomboy’s death.
It was only at Tomboy’s memorial service two weeks ago that Batman had finally been able to look in his eyes. Gazing at the torture there, Tombstone had felt his own loss recede just the slightest bit. Tomboy was gone — nothing would bring her back. And not even having a body to bury made closure even more difficult. Tomboy was officially MIA — missing in action — rather than KTA, but it was only a matter of a few weeks before she would be officially declared dead.
But the survivors had to go on, one way or the other, as they had before.
Tombstone had pulled Batman into a hard hug, and the rest of the crowd had drawn away for a few moments to give them the privacy they needed to each express his own grief.
“You never think this day will come,” Tombstone began, surprised to find this voice sounded steady. “Those long hours you spend pulling alert-five, the countless days spent sitting in the Ready Room, studying, hammering facts and data and emergency procedures into your head, the midwatches you stand… time seems to stand still, you watch the minute hand barely moving on your watch, but in the back of your mind you know that it’s only a matter of time until you walk down that flight deck and climb up into the most powerful fighter in the world. And that thought, that’s what keeps you going. That, and thinking of the people that you’re protecting every time you put on your flight suit, every time you fly a boring mission. And when you’re just starting out, it seems that it will last forever. That’s always who you’ll be, a fighter pilot.”
He paused for a moment and gazed out over the crowd. Some of the older men and women had a look of recognition on their faces, but most of them seemed a bit baffled. What was it he’d heard last cruise — that the average age of a sailor onboard
He didn’t feel old, dammit. Okay, maybe a few aches and pains, but he wasn’t
But in this community, he was. A sudden peace settled over him. Yes, this was the right thing to do. Step aside, make room for those moving up. And go on to build a second career, one that thank god still involved flying, but apart and separate from the military.
