glanced around at the faces, evaluating what he had to work with.
Better than it could have been, but not as good as a regular battle staff. Most of the officers seated at the table were either maintenance experts, exceptionally skilled in managing the supply system and flow of work that kept an airwing flying, or supply officers carrying long lists of everything onboard. The hangar bay had been hastily outfitted as a high-level maintenance depot, and the ship was manned with the appropriate personnel. He had jet mechanics, avionics specialists, and electricians instead of pilots and operations specialists, supply clerks instead of radiomen. Still, they were sailors, and there were certain skills they would have their disposal. Chief among them was the ability to take orders and think creatively.
“Okay,” Batman said, “so far, so good. I know this is a short-notice deployment for everyone, and I expect to be advised immediately of any problems that arise because of this. Our primary mission may be as an aircraft repair facility and the supply resource, but let’s not forget one thing, ladies and gentlemen — this is an aircraft carrier. And as such, I expect all of her systems to be fully operational. That includes the catapult, the arresting gear, and every combat system we have on board.” He held up one hand to forestall protest, and continued. “No, I’m not expecting you to get the hangar queens working, learn to fly them, and go on combat missions.”
That garnered a slight chuckle from two of the maintenance officers. One of them spoke up. “Admiral, I’m willing to give it a shot, if you are.” Batman remembered from his service record that the man had flunked out of the Tomcat training pipeline.
“That won’t be necessary, but I’ll keep it in mind. No, we need to be able to recover aircraft and launch them again. God forbid, if something should happen to the
“I’ve got a couple of techs who were air traffic controllers before their nerves gave out,” one officer said.
“Yes, and I’ve got an operation specialist. Dumb as a rock — so they sent him to fix aircraft instead of talk to them.” The officer shook his head, disgusted. “But a good man, a hard worker — we get him some help and keep an eye on him, he can manage.”
One by one, the other officers around the table volunteered the latent capabilities within their units, and Batman was surprised at the breadth of experience. Finally, he turned to the senior engineer present and said, “Effective immediately, in addition to your other duties, you will be my chief of staff. I want a full, fleshed-out roster of how we’re going to set flight quarters for both launch and recovery, as well as an analysis of the impact on damage control capabilities. I want names, specifics, not just ‘to be determined.’ ”
Then Batman pointed at next most senior officer. Odds were that every maintenance officer onboard had started life as an aviator and flunked out of flight school. “Fallen angel, right?” Getting a nod of affirmation in response, he said, “Okay, you’re the air boss. Pick your mini boss and your tower crew. What you don’t have, train. Let me know your proposed training schedule and give me an estimate of how long it will be before you’re ready to conduct underway flight operations.
“And the rest of you — I want this entire evolution supported. Your full support, you understand — I don’t want to see anyone just going through the motions. If you know something that somebody else doesn’t, you tell them. It’s going to take all of us working together to pull this off, but we can do it.”
“Admiral, with all due respect,” his new chief of staff said, “do you really expect anything to happen to the other carrier, sir? I mean, do you know something we don’t know?”
Batman nodded. “Yes. I know that you fight the way you train. If we don’t train to do this, we won’t be able to pull it off. I don’t know how or when we’ll need these capabilities, but if we do, I want to be ready.”
Wexler leaned back against the leather seats and went over the evening in her mind. Apart from his cryptic warning about the British ambassador, there had been nothing out of the ordinary in T’ing’s conversation or conduct. Not that she really expected to catch him in an unintended reaction. She just hoped she’d upheld her ambassadorial inscrutability as well as he did.
The driver pulled up in front of the townhouse she occupied for most of the year. The man sitting next to the driver got out, took a quick look around, and said, “Okay, Madam Ambassador. It’s clear.”
Sarah Wexler got out of the car. She still was not comfortable with the new security measures Brad had implemented, but under the circumstances, she had little room to complain. And she had to admit, she appreciated not having to fight the traffic herself. Riding in the quiet elegance of the back of the Lincoln town car, she read briefing papers, signed correspondence and dictated answers to letters. It was, she found, the most productive part of her day.
A car pulled up behind the ambassador’s, and a gun immediately appeared in her escort’s hand. “Get in — take off,” he snapped at Wexler and the driver. “Head for—”
“Wait,” Wexler ordered. “I recognize the car.”
“Who is it?” The guard demanded, his gun still in his hand pointed at the front windshield.
Wexler shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you. If they’re approaching me like this, then they don’t want anyone to know they’re here. Go on, leave. I’ll be fine. Either wait inside or get back in and drive off. Either way, I need you to clear the area now.”
“But Madame Ambassador, I really don’t think—”
She cut him off. “I don’t care what you think. Now move.” She put a bark into the last words.
When she saw that they were inside her townhouse, she walked back to the car behind her. She approached the back seat, not even bothering with the front. As she came close, the window rolled down. She leaned forward and poked her head into the car. “Good evening, Mister Ambassador,” she said.
“Good evening to you, madam. I apologize for approaching you in this manner.”
She nodded. “These are difficult times for us all. I understand your caution. I would invite you in for a nightcap or a cup of tea, but under the circumstances, I suspect you might wish to decline.”
The ambassador from Japan inclined his head ever so slightly. “As pleasant as that would be, I’m afraid you are right. However, there are things that we must discuss.”
“And my office is…?” she prompted.
He didn’t answer for moment, and said, “You have many new friends. What I have to say is for your ears alone.”
A cold shiver ran through her. Did he know about the bug? Or was he just referring to the visits by Captain Hemingway?
“Perhaps we could take a drive?” she suggested.
The door lock clicked, the Japanese ambassador opened it. “Yes. That would be acceptable.”
By the time the USS
“More classified material to be signed for, sir,” Chief Brady said as he passed a clipboard to Lab Rat. “I think that’s the last of it, though.”
“You did an inventory?” Lab Rat asked.
“Of course, sir. That’s my signature on the bottom line.”
Over the last eighteen hours, COD flights had been pouring in with more material for the newly-staffed CVIC. Senior Chief Brady had been running ragged trying to keep up with it all.
“Sir? There’s a Captain Ganner asking for admission, sir. Is he cleared?” a petty officer asked.
