was to move around the ship. Personnel were supposed to avoid the blue passageway, the flag passageway, unless they had business with a battle group staff. To have extended the blue tile down to CVIC would have meant placing another of the short passageways that ran across the ship off limits.
Lab Rat walked through the admiral’s conference room into the small foyer that led to both TFCC and SCIF, the Specially Compartment Intelligence Center. The hatch to TFCC was standing open, as it often was during underway operations. He stepped over the knee-knocker and searched in the darkness for the admiral.
As he had suspected, Batman was pacing in the small space, stopping from time to time to talk to a sailor or an officer, signing messages and papers that were thrust at him, occasionally conferring with his chief of staff. Most of these matters could have been handled more easily in his cabin, but Lab Rat had noted over several cruises that Batman was almost incapable of remaining in one place for very long. How he had survived in the Pentagon was beyond the intelligence officer’s understanding, given Batman’s fondness for pacing.
And why was he spending so much time in TFCC? Did he feel that same uneasiness that Lab Rat and the chief felt, the lingering sensation that things were not as they seem to be? Perhaps — Batman was an extraordinarily intuitive individual, Lab Rat had found, and seemed to have a sixth sense for trouble.
“Lab Rat,” Admiral Everette “Batman” Wayne’s voice boomed. “What you got?”
“I’m not certain, Admiral,” Lab Rat said. With other officers, he might have to try to appear more confident than he actually was, but his experience with Batman told him that the admiral preferred the straight scoop. “There are some alterations in patrol fly-by altitudes, some unusual activity along the border between Iraq and Iran. I’m not sure what they’re up to, but it all seems focus on a desert area next to those abandoned aircraft hulks.”
Batman eyebrows shot up. “You think they’re going to try to fly them? Is that even possible?”
“I don’t know. All I know is there’s a change in the activity patterns, and that worries me. That, coupled with the latest political reports — well, take a look yourself. You’ll see what I mean.” Lab Rat passed the admiral the pictures of the construction taking place in the desert.
Batman immediately saw the significance to it. “It’s going to be an airfield,” he said, his voice quiet. “I don’t like the looks of this at all.”
“I recommend we increase our CAP,” Lab Rat said. “Just as a precaution, Admiral. Not that I really think anything is about to happen, but—”
“—but if it does, there’s no time to get ready. Yes, let’s do that. I don’t like the way this is shaping up at all.”
The rest of the TFCC watch team had been surreptitiously eavesdropping, and Lab Rat saw the flag TAO already picking up the white phone to speak with the ship’s TAO further forward along the 0–3 passageway.
“Launch the alert-five Tomcats,” Batman said to his TAO. “And bring everybody else up a notch.” He cocked his eyebrows at Lab Rat. “Anything else?”
“Are all of our close-in weapons systems already in full auto?”
“Yes, Admiral,” the TAO answered immediately. “I’m not sure about the cruiser, though.”
“Tell them,” Batman said. “Captain Henry is a sharp guy — he’ll understand.”
Captain Frank Henry, the commanding officer of the Aegis cruiser USS
From overhead, they heard the low, hard rumble of Tomcat engines spooling up to full military power. On the plat camera, they could see the flight deck crew scurrying about, preparing for launch. The alert-five Tomcats had already been sitting on the catapult, fully manned up and preflighted. They could be launched within a matter of minutes. The jet blast deflectors, or JBD’s, were already rising up from their flat position on the flight deck to shield the rest of the flight deck from the tornado-force winds blasting out of the jets’ engines.
“Two flights — four Tomcats,” Batman said reflectively. “I hope that will be enough. But since we don’t know what is starting, and what we have to be ready for, we have no idea of what constitutes enough.”
“Now, this is more like it,” Bird Dog said enthusiastically. “Sure beats sitting in the ready room, doesn’t it?”
Bird Dog pressed himself back against the seat and braced himself for launch. He watched the catapult officer’s hand signals, circled his stick through its full range of motion for a final check on all his control surfaces. The plane captain made one last check of the pin holding his nose wheel steering gear to the steam catapult shuttle, and finally they were ready.
The catapult officer snapped off a salute, then dropped down to touch the deck. With his hand in the air, he pressed the pickle switch on the catapult actuator.
The Tomcat built speed slowly at first, but within a matter of moments accelerated to full takeoff speed. It shot down the catapult, held in place by the shuttle, and was unceremoniously tossed off the pointy end of the ship.
The Tomcat dropped below the level of the flight deck, and, as always, Bird Dog had a moment of shrieking panic that they weren’t going to make it. That was when you knew for certain whether you had gotten a soft cat from inadequate steam pressure behind a catapult, and whether or not you had enough airspeed to overcome both drag and gravity.
But his trustworthy Tomcat bit into the air, enormous engines straining against gravity, and the thrust gradually lifted them up and away from the hungry ocean. Over the ICS, he heard Music start breathing again.
Bird Dog concentrated on gaining altitude, making sure not to go nose-up too fast and stall. As soon as they were clearly flying, he cut hard to the right, breaking off and heading for his CAP station.
“It must be serious, sir — Bird Dog, I mean,” Music said. “They just pulled the alert-fifteen crews out to alert-five.”
“Serious — hell, that’s great!” Bird Dog crowed. “Gator will have his butt parked in the backseat out there just like we were — it doesn’t get any better than that.”
Once they were clear of the ship, his wingman joined him, taking position on his right side and slightly back. Bird Dog didn’t know that much about Fastball Morrow — the gossip in the ready room was that he was a good stick, but anybody could look good in the training pipeline. He hadn’t finished his first cruise yet, so as far as Bird Dog was concerned, he was still a nugget. And nuggets were dangerous, at least until you learned what they were made off.
Inside the combat direction center, or CDC, Captain Henry was just getting a quick overview of the situation from his TAO when the admiral’s call came in. He recognized the admiral’s voice in the call-up and took the mike from his TAO. He listened to the admiral’s suggestion that his CIWS be placed in full auto, and nodded.
“Roger that, Admiral. We’re already in full auto, but I appreciate the heads up. Anything specific we ought to be watching for?”
“Nothing I can pinpoint for you, Captain,” Batman’s voice boomed down over the speaker. “You know how it is sometimes — you get that hinky feeling it’s all about to go to shit. And I’ve got an intelligence officer here who agrees with me.”
“Lab Rat?” Henry asked.
“Yep, he’s the one. You should have Tomcats overhead shortly, Captain. Just keep an eye on them, make sure they don’t get out of line.”
Captain Henry chuckled slightly. Like the cruiser would really have any control over the pilots manning the Tomcats. Still, it was nice of the admiral to ask. “Will do, Admiral.” After he replaced the mike, Captain Henry made a visual check on the CIWS system status.
As he had told the admiral, the key arming it in full auto was already inserted, and all stations were reporting ready for action. But if anything was going down, CIWS would be their last resort.
