Chain of Command

12

The biggest messages sometimes come in curt, oddly accented voices barely audible through the crackle of static. This was one of those. Not only was Tombstone on his way back to the carrier, but he had a "friend" he wanted to bring along.

Tombstone, Bird Dog, a stranger and Gator emerged from the helicopter, Gator on a stretcher. Until I'd actually seen them on my flight deck, I'd hardly dared to believe it was true. Tombstone I hadn't been certain about, but I'd been worried about his safety. And Bird Dog and Gator, as much as I hated to admit it, I'd virtually given up for lost. It was like seeing ghosts walk back across the flight deck. The gongs confirmed it, four of them, followed by the words "Admiral United States Navy." That shook me out of the silent fascination with the camera and brought me to my feet. I waited standing in the middle of my office, barely able to contain myself. I'd wanted to be up on the flight deck, just to see for myself. But with threat indications all over the board, I needed to be here, right next to TFCC.

Tombstone would understand ― in my place, he would have done the same thing.

There was no knock, no warning. The door to my office burst open, and I faced two of the dirtiest, filthiest, smilingest aviators I have ever seen in my life.

Tombstone crossed the room in three quick strides and buried me in a bear hug so hard I thought he'd crack ribs. Good thing I was in my old khakis ― mud and dirt cascaded down off of him, smearing everything that he touched.

Not that I cared. Hell, I would have let him hug me naked if he'd wanted to at that point.

"You made it back," I finally said as Tombstone pulled back. There was a wholly joyous expression on his face, one of sheer pleasure in being alive.

"Did you let Tomboy know?" he asked immediately. He glanced around the room. "I thought she'd be here."

"She would have, if she'd known you were coming back in like this," I said. "She's flying CAP right now, on a double-cycle mission. Should be back on deck as soon as we get that piece-of-shit helicopter you flew in on out of the way."

Then the stranger came into my office, and now I recognized him. He was Yuri Kursk, and it rankled having him on my ship. Things had a tendency to explode when he was around. I'd never been able to prove it, but I was convinced he was a player in too many dirty tricks on our last cruise. From the look on Kursk's face, Tombstone had already done a good job of convincing him what shallow ice he was on on board my ship.

"But she knows?" Tombstone asked again. "You told her I'm okay, right?"

"Yeah, we told her. She knows. She said to tell you after she hits the tanker, she'll buster back."

Tombstone nodded, relief flooding his face. "It's just as well. Batman, I've got to talk to you." He gestured at Bird Dog, who was maintaining a politely nonchalant expression, pretending he hadn't watched two admirals pound each other on the back like old fools. "He needs to be here too," Tombstone continued. "Both of us have got things you have to know, but I'll go first."

"Just a second," I said. I was used to Tombstone bossing me around, but damn it, this was my ship. And my pilot who'd just come back from the dead.

I crossed over to Bird Dog and stood nose-to-nose with him for a moment, trying to scowl at him. "The next time you want me to put you on the flight schedule, I'm gonna say no," I said finally. "Damn fool ― getting yourself shot down."

There was a startled expression on Bird Dog's face for a moment, replaced slowly by a grin. "I guess next time I won't come banging on your door, Admiral."

I threw my arms around him, and gave him the same hard, quick hug that Tombstone had given me. Hell, I was already filthy, and I was so damn glad to see this young idiot back on my boat that it seemed the only right thing to do.

"Welcome back, Bird Dog," I said finally. "Now you two go ahead and sit down ― hell, don't mind the couch. I'll replace it if I have to."

With that, the two filthy aviators settled down on the couch in front of my glass table. Tombstone started first.

He cut right to the chase, and confirmed the reports I'd received about a possible nuclear-production facility in Vietnam. He mentioned the dosimeter, then the details that pertained to Yuri Kursk. I knew better than to interrupt him. Tombstone had been in my shoes before, and he knew what would be important to me and what wouldn't. He glossed over some of the personal details, and I noted pain flitted through his face. I made a mental note to get him alone later, to find out what had really happened on his search for his father.

"You need to hear about Bird Dog's adventure too," Tombstone concluded. "Start with General Hue," Tombstone ordered him.

Bird Dog got through his tale just as quickly, albeit with a few more stumblings and a trace of braggadocio padding it out. He hadn't had the years of experience that Tombstone and I had had in debriefing admirals, and it showed. I caught Tombstone smirking slightly, and shook my head slightly to let him know I'd seen it, What we saw was us, sitting in front of us as we had sat in front of other admirals twenty years earlier.

Finally, Bird Dog concluded his story. He sat quiet, obviously uncertain about whether we wanted him to remain here or to leave.

"Go get a shower and some food, Bird Dog," I said gruffly. "Then get down to Intel ― Commander Busby is going to want to see you right away, I know."

"Thank you, Admiral," he said, and stood. An expression of relief crossed his face. "I'll do that."

After Bird Dog left, I gazed at Tombstone somberly. "You want to shower first, or do we go over the plans now?"

"A quick planning session, then I'll shower," Tombstone said. He reached down, scratched at his crotch, and grimaced. "I'll tell you the rest of it after I'm cleaned up."

I had the Chief of Staff call in my Strike Ops Officer, my Operations Officer, CAG, and Lab Rat. They all looked stunned as they walked into the room and took in Tombstone's condition, but they quickly masked their expressions. I cut through the pleasantries, and told them what we had to do.

Strike nodded thoughtfully. "Sure, we can pull that one off. Plenty of weapons on board. The political and international implications, though, that's not in my ballpark. It's up to you, Admiral. How hard do you want to hit them?"

Yuri Kursk spoke up immediately. "There can be no doubt that we have to eliminate this," he announced. "The site must be so completely demolished that there is no hope of extracting usable fissionable material from the debris. You understand that, of course?"

"I understand enough," I said. The bastard had some nerve, sitting in my office and lecturing me after trying to shoot down a couple of my pilots. I ought to turn him over to the squadron and let them teach him a fatal lesson about attacking American forces.

But hell, what Kursk wanted us to do was a good idea ― I went along with it completely ― but no pissant Ukrainian commander was going to start planning my operational missions for me. Bad enough that they'd had to trick us into doing what we would have done anyway, but like I said before ― this was my ship. The little shit needed to start learning that.

"Dumb bombs is all we have left," the Operations officer said. "We used the penetrating rounds on the revetment. How heavily is this place fortified?"

I glanced over at Lab Rat. "We can expect some concrete shielding, of course. The fact that they're wearing dosimeters means they're at least conscious of and paying attention to the radiation levels. Other nations are usually a lot less picky than we are, but I'd expect to see some degree of shielding."

"How much?" Strike pressed. "Will the five-hundred-pound bombs do the job?"

"You know anything about this, Kursk?" I asked, turning back to the Ukrainian. "Seems your intelligence has been pretty good to date."

"I'd be speculating, Admiral," he said, a new note of respect in his voice. "But I would agree with Commander Busby. The odds are that the shielding is adequate, but just barely. Five-hundred-pound bombs should do it."

"Well, then." I stood, dismissing the group. "Get your plans together ― I'd like to roll on this tonight, if we can."

"Gonna be a tougher target at night," Strike said.

"We've got good ground intel, though," Lab Rat answered. "I'm pretty confident on my SAM site locations, and I think you can get around them. We've put a lot of time into this one."

To make up for the stuff that you didn't know last time, I added silently. Over the last week, Lab Rat had been clearly preoccupied by his failure to provide adequate intelligence to his aircrews. I was glad he would have this opportunity to make it up to them.

"Tonight," I said, concluding the discussion. "Let's make it happen, gentlemen."

They all left, except for Tombstone and Yuri Kursk.

"And what about me, Admiral?" Yuri asked. "I wish to be a part of this ― it is my right."

I wheeled on him. "Nobody has rights on board my ship unless I give them to them. You got that straight, mister?" While he might not be one of my junior officers, he was very definitely junior around here.

Yuri nodded. "I must go with them," he repeated, as stubborn a man as I've ever seen stand in front of me. "I brought your Admiral Magruder back, I risked much in this plan ― I must be in on the final strike."

I sighed. "And just what are you going to do about it if I say no? You're way out of line, mister, and I've got half a mind to just turn you over to Ambassador Wexler and let her deal with you."

The conference between Than and Wexler had not been going well, not as far as I could tell. Of course, I wasn't invited to sit in on the closed meetings, but I could see the tightness around her eyes at the evening meal, hear the polite ice and venom dripping out of her voice every time she addressed Than. This impudent young officer in front of me might just have the key to resolving the entire matter.

"Admiral, please." Now the Ukrainian's voice had taken on a pleading note. "At least consider it, Admiral. I know the country well, every landmark and guidepost in it. If the strike is confused or has problems finding the target, I can get them there. I will do this, Admiral. It is more important to my country than even to yours. You must understand that."

"There is a whole lot I don't understand about this whole situation," I replied slowly. "Starting with why we have to come up with this back-alley solution to resolve this. As Admiral Magruder probably told you, there are ways to deal with this sort of problem that don't involve killing my aviators first."

Yuri nodded, and seemed to draw back inside himself. "I am sorry for that, Admiral. It was necessary."

"Then you write the letters to their families," I shot back. "You tell them how their husbands and wives died in the line of duty, died for something important. Make it meaningful for them, why don't you? Find some way to make it easier for them in the years to come that they'll be alone, raising kids, trying to make a go of it."

Yuri straightened, and a new determination was evident in his eyes. "I cannot make it any easier for them," he said quietly. "And they may never know why their spouses paid the ultimate price. But I can tell you one thing ― if you do not do this, if you do not give this mission every chance for success, you will be the one who has to live with the consequences. Not I."

An utter, dead silence settled over the room. Tombstone appeared withdrawn, disengaged from the entire confrontation. I appreciated that, since this was clearly my call, not his. Yet nonetheless, I figured his advice would be helpful. I turned to him. "Any thoughts, Admiral?"

Tombstone appeared not to hear me at first, and then his eyes slowly refocused on me. I noticed how much older he looked, drawn and drained, as though his time on the ground had sapped something vital out of him. He shook himself slightly, as though ridding himself of a bad dream, and some of the tiredness drained away. I saw the Tombstone I had known for twenty years, strong and confident, the best damn stick I'd ever known in my life.

"There's something to what he says," Tombstone began slowly. "There are a lot of things that can go wrong with a night mission. You know that." He glanced at Yuri, and something invisible passed between the two of them. It bothered me.

"But I can't support putting you in an F14 for this mission," Tombstone continued to Yuri, his voice still thoughtful. "There's no pilot on this ship that I'd risk with an inexperienced backseater, and I'm not all that sure that I want a Ukrainian having a close-up and personal look at our gear from inside the cockpit. No offense, mind you. But there are times when we haven't been on the same side of the fight. You will remember that."

Yuri nodded, and stayed silent. I gave him points for that.

"However, it might be possible to put him in an E2," Tombstone added. "Sure, there's a lot of classified gear in there as well, but there's a little bit more space. We can take some precautions, make sure we don't compromise anything." He glanced over at me, saw I was paying attention, and said finally, "There's only one thing that matters to me, old friend, and that's making something good come out of all of this. If having him on scene increases our chances of making that happen, then I'm all for it."

"He could sit in Combat," I argued, aware that my argument was weak. "You can see the entire picture from there."

Tombstone shook his head. "But not the terrain ― not the actual radar sweep and raw data. If necessary, we can take that E2 right in with us, providing fighter coverage for it, and get an eyeballs-on assessment of exactly where we are. It's not something I'd like to do ordinarily, but if we have to do it to get the mission done…" Tombstone shrugged, making it clear that while he had his opinions on the matter, the final decision was mine alone.

I sighed. "There are never any easy ones in this office, are there?" I asked him.

Tombstone shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "The easy ones get solved way down below you. Everything that gets up this far is impossible, ugly, and bites. You ought to know that by now."

"I do ― but thanks for reminding me."

I turned to Yuri. "I'll think about it, okay? No promises but I'll think about it."

"I can fly an F14," Yuri said unexpectedly.

"Off a carrier?" Tombstone demanded.

Yuri appeared to be about to elaborate, then shook his head slowly. "Only once. And I have never landed."

"Not good enough then. I'll think about the E2, that's all."

A sudden banging on my door distracted all three of us. I saw Tombstone jump; I wondered how long that startled reaction would stick with him.

"Admiral? Admiral Wayne?" The voice was all too familiar. I had taken the precaution of locking the door prior to starting the conference, but I was afraid that might not even be enough given who was on the other side of it.

Tombstone let out a low, involuntary groan. Yuri looked puzzled.

"Admiral, I know you are in there. I've got to see you immediately." The voice would brook no denial.

"In my stateroom," I said quietly to Tombstone. "Go ahead and take a shower ― you'll find a spare flight suit in there. Might be a little short on you, but it's better than that filth you're wearing. You too," I said, taking in Yuri with a gesture. "Scoot ― go hide."

Yuri's head swiveled back and forth between me and the door. "Who is it?" he asked quietly.

I looked at Tombstone, then grimaced. "A reporter ― Pamela Drake, ACN."

Yuri's face lit up. "I have seen her," he breathed. "May I meet her?"

Tombstone shot me a look of disgust, and I shrugged. Such are the consequences of exporting democracy and international news reporting around the globe. "Maybe. But not now. And I know Admiral Magruder sure as hell doesn't want to talk to her. Go on, both of you ― in my cabin until I get rid of her."

Tombstone and Yuri walked to the back of my room and slipped into the large bedroom just off it. The door shut, and I heard by the small click that Tombstone had locked it.

I went to the door of my office, unlocked it, and opened it suddenly. Pamela, who'd been about to knock on the door again, stumbled in. She recovered herself, placed her hands on her hips, and glared at me. "Where is he?" she asked.

"Where's who?" I tried for an innocent smile, knowing it wasn't coming off.

"You know who," she snapped. "Tombstone. He's on this ship ― I heard the 1MC announcement."

"Oh, that." I swore silently, wishing I'd remembered to tell the bridge to lay off the formalities. "That wasn't Tombstone ― it was someone else."

"Who?" Pamela demanded. As I fumbled for a quick answer, an expression of satisfaction crossed her face. "Yes, it was. Don't bother lying to me, Admiral. I know he's here."

"Even if he were, I'm under no obligation to put you in touch with him," I said stiffly. I hate being caught short fumbling for a lie. "I haven't even seen him myself yet. And you will recall, Ms. Drake, that you've agreed to limit your movements around the ship to those I have allowed for you. We clear on that?"

Pamela glanced around the room, and her smile broadened. "Oh boy, this is going to be a hell of a story," she said softly. "Admiral, you've got to let me talk to him. I know he's here."

"He's not," I answered roughly.

"You don't lie very well, Admiral." She pointed at the couch on which Bird Dog and Tombstone had been sitting. I turned, and one look at it told me where I'd made my mistake.

The soft, cream-colored fabric was coated with mud, dirt, and leaves. There were two large filthy patches on it, and a third slightly cleaner spot where Yuri himself had sat. I groaned despite myself.

"Listen, Pamela, for old time's sake ― can't you give the man a break?"

She crossed over to my sitting area, plopped her butt down on the one clean chair ― mine ― and smiled. "If you tell me what's going on and give me an exclusive, I promise to hold up on reporting it. How about that?"

"I could have you thrown in the brig," I offered, now goaded past the point of tolerance. Damn it, why did everybody on this ship feel like they were allowed to give me orders?

"Which worked so well the time that Tombstone tried it," she shot back acidly.

About that she'd been right. Although the confrontation in the Mediterranean had eventually escalated to just that contingency, the resulting furor that Tombstone had faced over tossing Pamela in the brig had only been mitigated by the criminal charges brought against her for interfering with military operations. Both sides counted it a draw, but the controversy that had raged made both sides bitter.

"Or just send you back to the mainland," I continued as though she hadn't spoken. "In fact, I'm inclined to do just that. Ambassador Wexler and Ambassador Than are planning on leaving tonight."

Pamela sucked in a quick breath. "Oh, really?"

"Yes." Although they didn't know it themselves yet. Damn it, the last thing I needed was for them to hear it from her. "At least, I'm pretty certain they will be," I amended, trying to give myself an out.

Pamela settled back in the chair, looking less and less inclined to leave my quarters voluntarily. "Well, perhaps I'll go with them. Or perhaps I won't. It depends on where the story is, and right now I don't know. I will ― by then I'll know."

That wasn't bragging, just plain fact. Pamela had a worldwide reputation for being able to sniff out the story at any locale. She operated on intuition and guts, showing up on scene before any other reporter and getting in the middle of the action faster than even the military forces. I pretty much knew what her choice would be, if things went as I thought they would. She'd want to be on Jefferson, trying to get the inside scoop on the attack.

Somewhere in the background, I heard the splashy sound of a shower starting. Pamela's eyes lit up. "And who is in your shower, Admiral?" she asked gently. "Could it be who I think it is?"

She was on her feet in a flash, heading for my bedroom door. I stood and tried to head her off, but she slipped past me.

She tried the knob, and discovered it was locked. She pounded on the door and hollered, "Tombstone! I know you're in there, damn it!"

I grabbed her around the waist and jerked her back. "You will not invade my private quarters," I said angrily. "Of everything you've pulled, Pamela, this is about the-"

The door slowly opened, and a clean, freshly flight-suited figure stepped out. It was Yuri.

He tendered one hand to Pamela Drake, and said in a voice approaching awe, "I'm Yuri Kursk. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Drake."

I heard Pamela suck in a hard, harsh breath, then transform her face instantly into a winning and sweet expression of welcome. "And a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kursk," she purred. She took him gently by the elbow, drawing him over to the corner of my room. "We've met before, haven't we? Or at least in passing."

"Met" was probably too strong a word. Pamela had finagled herself on board Jefferson during the last Mediterranean conflict, just before Yuri had planted a bomb outside Tombstone's quarters. I wondered what particular version of double-talk enabled her to come up with that interpretation.

"I am a great fan of yours," Yuri began, damn his hide. He was obviously completely taken with her, something I had suspected from the first moment he'd mentioned her name. "Perhaps we could talk."

"I'd like that very much," Pamela said, her teeth delicately nibbling on her lower lip. The smile was genuine now, warm and welcoming. "Could we go somewhere private? My stateroom perhaps?"

"No, you don't," I said. I grabbed Yuri by his elbow and snatched him back from her. "You're not to talk to her ― not about any of this. You don't understand what you're getting into, man. She could worm military information out of the Devil himself."

A dawning look of comprehension crossed Yuri's face. He glanced back at Pamela, obviously torn between his admiration as a fan of hers and the need for military secrecy. "I understand," he said finally. He bowed reluctantly to Pamela. "I'm afraid our little talk will have to wait until later."

"Perhaps so," she murmured. "But you've already given me a good deal to think about, your mere presence on this ship." She glanced over at me, then said, "Any concerns about another bomb, Admiral Wayne?"

I saw Yuri stiffen. I made a small motion, dismissing the incident. "Not at all. Commander Kursk is here at my request."

Pamela took a step toward me. "Oh, really? And just why would that be?"

Fed up, I grabbed her by the shoulder and propelled her toward the office door. She put up a brief struggle, but I was far stronger than she was. Finally, she gave up and went along with it.

"Out," I ordered. I shoved her out into the passageway, being none too careful about it, then slammed the door behind her. I turned back to Yuri. "So much for secrecy ― I'll be surprised if she hasn't wormed the story out of you by the time we get the strike under way."

Tombstone's head popped out of the door to my stateroom. "Is she gone?"

"Yes." I shot Yuri a disgusted look. "No thanks to your friend here."

Tombstone came out with a fresh flight suit on, one that barely reached down to his ankles. He was barefoot, evidently having decided not to put the filthy ground boots back on his feet.

"We'll have to deal with the publicity sooner or later," he said with a sigh. "Get your PAO up here, along with Lab Rat. We'll have them work out the cover story ― then we'll get it down pat. It's gotta be perfect, Batman. At least until we let our people back in the States know what is going on."

"I'll brief Ambassador Wexler," I agreed. "She may have some ideas for us as well."

Tombstone snorted. "Sarah'd probably take lead on the strike herself, if she could."

And that, I reflected, was probably true. Indeed, so would Pamela Drake, for that matter.

"Let's get down to CVIC, if you're up to it," I said finally.

"Lab Rat's probably chewing on his whisper circuits, trying to get his hands on you."

Tombstone nodded. "Got some running shoes I can borrow?"

I sent my Chief of Staff and a Marine guard down to check the corridor between my stateroom and CVIC. It was only a short distance, maybe forty feet, but I wouldn't put it past Pamela to be lurking for us, waiting to pounce along the way.

With the Marine stationed at the only intersecting corridor and the Chief of Staff at the far end, I stepped out into the passageway and motioned Yuri and Tombstone to follow me.

We hurried, almost trotting down the corridor, then slipped into the alcove that was the entrance to CVIC. The watch-stander buzzed the door open immediately. We pushed through the main briefing area and back to SCIF, ignoring the startled and inquiring glances from the rest of the Intelligence Specialists.

Back in Lab Rat's inner sanctum, I finally relaxed. Even Pamela Drake couldn't get past the multiple combination locks and the watch-stander out front, I was pretty sure.

As we stepped into Lab Rat's office, I saw Bird Dog seated in front of him. His head was bowed down, his hands on his knees, and he was speaking in a low tone of voice. He stopped, looked up startled, and quit speaking as soon as we stepped in. "Ready for us?" I asked, although it was obvious that Lab Rat was still debriefing Bird Dog. Still, the matters we had to resolve were far more urgent.

Lab Rat nodded slowly, an uncomfortable look on his face. "Yes, I guess so. Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Robinson."

Bird Dog stood slowly, and scuttled off to the hatch. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, although he murmured a polite greeting as he slid past us.

I turned to watch him go. Now that puzzled the hell out of me. Just half an hour earlier, that same young man had been standing in my office filthy-dirty and exhausted. I would have thought the first place he would head would be for the shower, maybe to catch some sleep. I'd told him to stop by and let Lab Rat debrief him, but I figured he'd at least shower first.

Evidently, he hadn't. He was still in the filthy, ragged condition he'd been in when he'd inflicted those telltale marks on my couch.

I turned back to Lab Rat. "What was all that about?"

Lab Rat shook his head, and his eyes cut over to Yuri. "Just a debrief, Admiral. That's all."

I nodded, understanding. Lab Rat had something on his mind he didn't want to talk about in front of Yuri.

"Let's get started then," I said, pulling out a chair from around the small briefing table. "Admiral, you want to start?"

Lab Rat stood. "Just a moment, Admiral Wayne," he said, a hard note in his voice. "I'd like to conduct this debriefing with Admiral Magruder alone. And before that, I'd like to speak to you privately."

Lab Rat's face was flushed, but his expression was adamant.

"Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Tombstone," I pointed out. "Hell, he had command here before I did. You used to work for him, Lab Rat."

"Admiral, I'm afraid I have to insist. Yes, I've worked for Admiral Magruder and I have the utmost respect for him." Lab Rat's expression softened slightly, then hardened again.

"But you're in command now, sir. If you listen to what I have to say and then want me to brief Admiral Magruder about it, I will. But it's for your ears only at first, sir. I really think that's best."

I started to snap at him, then caught myself. Intelligence work was Lab Rat's area of expertise. I knew how he felt about Tombstone, and if he wanted to talk to me privately, then he had good reasons to. Still, I felt markedly uncomfortable at the idea.

Tombstone stood, scraping his chair away from the table. He motioned to Yuri. "Lab Rat's right, Batman," he said quietly. "It's not my ship anymore."

I started to protest, then fell silent. With a nod, Tombstone steered Yuri gently out of the compartment. Lab Rat waited until they were gone, then shut the heavy steel door behind them.

I turned to him. "So what's all this cloak-and-dagger stuff about, Lab Rat?" My voice was a little bit harsher than I'd like, but the guy had inadvertently been the last in a long line of people who'd pissed me off that afternoon. "What's so damn secret you can't say it in front of Tombstone?"

Lab Rat sighed, and I was surprised to hear a quaver in the exhalation of breath. "I don't know, Admiral," he said quietly. He pointed at a chair. "You might like to sit down ― this might take some time."

I planted my old ass in that chair, and sat there and listened to my Intelligence Officer outline his concerns.

"First off, let me say that I believe there's no real cause for concern," Lab Rat began. "But still, until we verify some of this information, I have to treat it as a possible compromise to our national security. Please, Admiral, don't misunderstand me ― this is my duty." There was a pleading quality in Lab Rat's voice that bothered me almost as much as his words.

I nodded slowly. "Go on."

"Admiral, Admiral Magruder was involved in a series of almost inexplicable coincidences while he was on the ground," Lab Rat continued. "In particular, his encounter with the Ukrainian forces seems almost too coincidental to believe. How likely is his travels in the jungle, that a contingent of renegade Vietnamese officers agreed to stage an unprovoked attack on Jefferson as a cover story for something they hoped we would do ― mind you, they had no clear indication that we'd agree to take on that supposed nuclear facility ― and risk taking losses of their own?"

I slumped back in my chair, shocked beyond words.

"Until I know otherwise, I have to view this relationship between Admiral Magruder and Commander Kursk with some concern," Lab Rat continued. "Remember, this is the same man who tried to kill him when he was still on board Jefferson. And now they are working together?" Lab Rat shook his head slowly. "Tell me I have a nasty, paranoid mind, Admiral. Reassure me that there's nothing to this, that I'm not going to get my ass blasted by D.C. for divulging classified information to a senior officer who may be compromised."

"Compromised." I spat the word out, tasting its foulness in my mouth. "Are you accusing Tombstone Magruder of being a spy?"

Lab Rat spoke quickly now. "Not intentionally, Admiral. It's possible that his drive to seek his father has led him to make arrangements that the United States might view with some alarm."

"Cut the bullshit, Lab Rat. Do you seriously believe that Tombstone Magruder would betray his country in any way? That he would release classified information without proper authorization? Particularly to them?"

"He's got you convinced we need to make a bombing run on the interior of Vietnam, based on the same associations," Lab Rat pointed out. "Admiral, please ― understand my position. I'm not accusing Admiral Magruder of being a spy. I'm just saying that there's something questionable about this entire association, this sequence of events. Frankly, I don't want to take the chance. Can you honestly say that you do? Putting aside your personal friendship with Admiral Magruder ― and remember, Chief Warrant Officer Walker also had personal friends in his command ― are you completely and professionally satisfied with this entire situation?"

I was so angry I almost couldn't think straight. I stood, and started to scream at Lab Rat and chew his neck to a bloody, red froth. Then it hit me, the unsettling feeling that circled around the pit of my stomach whenever I was about to make a fool of myself. I sat back down heavily.

Perhaps there was something to what he was saying. No, not that Tombstone would ever betray his country ― that I simply could not believe. But the circumstances ― yes, there was a lot left to be desired in them. Now that I reviewed them, Tombstone's explanation sounded all the more lame. That the leader of his group had mysteriously disappeared, that he'd fled the fire and had a chance encounter with the one Ukrainian he had reason to hate most of all in the world, then gone with that man voluntarily to conduct surveillance on a secret Chinese weapons-production facility ― now that I ran through the facts again, it sounded more and more bizarre. Bizarre ― but true. Had it been anyone else except Admiral Magruder, who I'd known so long and so well, I would have wondered about it. But coming from him…

And that was exactly Lab Rat's point. I couldn't let my personal friendship with Tombstone cloud my judgment in this matter. Not with what we were about to undertake. Really, the only reason I was completely convinced at that point was that both stories backed up Lab Rat's national-asset data about a possible nuclear plant deep in the jungle of Vietnam. Whoever it belonged to ― Chinese, Vietnamese, or even Ukrainian ― it needed to be put out of business. That they were up to no good was evident by the care they'd taken to conceal their activities.

"Tombstone isn't compromised," I said finally, my voice sounding weak and quiet even to my own ears. "It's not possible."

Lab Rat nodded. "I tend to agree with you, Admiral. But as I said ― it's not a matter of what we think or feel. It's a matter of what the facts are ― and what our duty requires us to do."

"I don't believe it," I said finally. "I won't."

It was Lab Rat's turn to stand, and he paced angrily in the small confined space. He appeared to be at war with himself, struggling with some decision he knew he must make. Finally he turned to me, a harsh expression on his face. "Admiral, I've reviewed everything I can think of concerning security clearances. Of course, you have the absolute right to grant a clearance to anyone you wish, if you follow the regulations listed in the manual for granting interim ones. I know those rules cold ― and so do you, I suspect."

"So what are you saying?" I asked.

"Admiral, Admiral Magruder is a visitor aboard this ship. Technically, you must formally authorize his access to classified material from my shop. As I said, it is your sole decision ― but it's normally one made with the concurrence of the top-secret control officer. That would be me."

I felt my jaw drop as I contemplated where this young officer was about to go. He wouldn't dare. He couldn't- He did.

"I do not concur with any decisions to authorize Admiral Magruder access to classified material," Lab Rat said firmly. "Furthermore ― and understand, this is not a threat, I am merely complying with regulations ― if you do grant him access to classified material, I will be forced to file a report with the National Security Group in Hawaii, indicating my concern that classified material may be compromised by your actions." A strange, almost pleading look swept over Lab Rat's face. "I don't want to do this, Admiral Wayne. But I don't have any choice."

I sighed heavily, dumbstruck. "If you pull his clearance, you realize he's grounded," I said quietly.

Lab Rat nodded. "I know that. And truly, if I saw any other way, I wouldn't do it."

As much as I hated it I saw Lab Rat's point. Had it been anyone else, I would 'have done as he suggested in a heartbeat.

"All right," I said, the words heavy in my throat. "I'm not convinced, for what it's worth. But I agree. I'll tell him myself."

Lab Rat took a step closer to me. "But not until after I've debriefed him thoroughly," he said quietly. "I Want a straight story, his first story, Admiral. Not one based on any suspicions that you may raise in him."

"Suspicions?" I was on my feet too now, outraged again. "How dare you-" I bit my words off in mid-sentence as I saw the look on Lab Rat's face.

There are many forms of courage, but one of the most difficult to measure is moral courage. It is that strange conviction that drives a man to do what is right, not what is convenient or attractive. It requires standing up to superior officers when they are in the wrong, taking a moral stand whenever possible. In that instant, I saw those qualities in Lab Rat's face.

"I apologize," I said, my voice quiet now. "You're absolutely right. I won't tell him ― not until you tell me to. In the meantime, we'll shield him from all classified material. How is that?"

A vast look of relief washed over Lab Rat's face. "Thank you, sir. I think we can resolve this quickly."

I nodded. "So do I, Lab Rat. So do I."

I opened the outer door, and motioned Tombstone back into the room. I forced a hearty, relaxed expression onto my face. "Your turn, amigo."

Tombstone shot me a quizzical look. "I don't know how long this'll take, but could you have someone hunt me down a bed? I'm about out on my feet ― I suspect I need about ten hours in the rack before I even start to sound coherent again." He chuckled, and pointed at Lab Rat. "I pity him, trying to have to piece this story together the way I'm feeling right now."

Inwardly, I winced. Tombstone had no idea of what had transpired, and it would soon be my sad duty to tell him his clearance was pulled. And that he was grounded, since the entire interior of the Tomcat is classified. I wasn't looking forward to it, any more than Lab Rat had wanted to talk to me about it. But it had to be done ― and I'd done it.

I left Yuri in the care of two Intelligence Specialists who were obviously chomping at the bit to ask him questions, but were under strict orders from Lab Rat to leave him alone until Lab Rat himself could debrief the Ukrainian. After making sure that he was comfortable and promising to find him a rack as well, I headed back to my cabin. The walk back took far longer than the trip to CVIC had in the first place.