Choosers of the Slain

20

Amanda was alone in the wardroom. All other hands were still at general quarters as the ship fled southward toward the weather fronts.

Her instincts were to remain in the Combat Information Center, hovering over the radar repeaters. However, she had forced herself away. Her command headset would give her an instant link with events there, and she must trust in her crew and her systems.

She heated a mug of water for tea in the countertop microwave and spread peanut butter on a piece of toast. Then, with great deliberation, she sat down and began to eat.

She wasn't particularly hungry. In fact, there was a massive leaden knot where her stomach should have been. She couldn't afford to yield to that, though. From this point on, she would have to run maintenance on herself, just as she would on any other key ship's system. She dare not squander her reserves of energy and mental focus.

She took another sip of the strongly brewed tea without tasting and stared down the length of the table without seeing, mentally following event probabilities into the future.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am?"

She glanced up to find one of the CPOs from Weapons Division and an enlisted man standing just inside the open wardroom door. She recognized the EM as the gunner's mate who had been on the forward Oto Melara mount. He was now holding a rather uneasy parade rest beside his chief.

"This is Gunner's Mate Second Danny Lyndiman, ma'am," the CPO said, shooting an ominous You're gonna catch hell now glance across at the younger man. "Mr. Beltrain said you wanted to talk with him."

"I do," Amanda replied, pushing her chair back to face the two men.

"Well, Lyndiman," she said, lowering her voice just enough so he had to concentrate on her words. "You scored a very spectacular one-shot kill on that Rafale this afternoon. Would you care to tell me how you went about it?"

The lean young gunner shifted his weight uneasily. Everywhere else he had ever served, when the CO got loud, things got bad. On the Duke, though, when "The Lady" got quiet, that's when you started to worry. Suddenly, his brilliant improvisation didn't seem quite so brilliant.

"It was like this, ma'am. When the Argys started using laser-guided ordnance on us, I figured why not use it right back at them."

"Go on."

"When that first Rafale flight illuminated us like it did, it occurred to me that if we had the chance to fire one of our own laser-guided rounds back up their designation basket, our shell would ride their own beam right back into the illuminator pod. Then, when the second flight started to come in, the angle looked good, so I took my gun out of the Aegis loop, went over to manual control, and reloaded with laser-guided munitions. I got it set up in time and I took the shot. I guess it worked."

"I guess it did," Amanda replied softly. "Did you clear the change-over with the tactical action officer?"

"No, ma'am. There just wasn't any time. I was barely able to recycle and reload the system and get the round off."

"I see. And what made you sure that our systems would be interactive with theirs?"

"I've been reading up on the briefing package for the mission, ma'am. The Argentines use a Thomson CSF designation system. It's fully NATO standardized and operationally compatible with all of our stuff. It had to work."

"No, it didn't. Not if the aircraft in the second flight had been carrying an ordnance load other than laser-guided munitions."

Amanda watched the play of expression across the seaman's face. First the moment of confusion, then the gut-lurching realization. She let him dwell for a while on the image of a gutted and blazing ship. It wouldn't be necessary to crucify Lyndiman further. He was a conscientious and intelligent young man and he was doing a fine job of it on his own.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I thought I was doing the right thing," he said miserably.

"You were. You thought clearly and quickly in a crisis situation and you spotted a potential vulnerability in an enemy. You knocked down an attacking aircraft and you just possibly saved this ship.

"It's my belief that one of the strengths of our Navy has always been that our ships have been crewed by intelligent, innovative people who can think for themselves in an emergency. I do not want or need mindless robots aboard the Cunningham.

"However, what you did down there today was a classic calculated risk. When you call something like that right, you get to be the hero. But if you call it wrong, you get to watch your shipmates die. Should you ever have to make another call like that, you make sure that you are as right then as you were today."

"Okay, Captain," he replied, giving her a sober nod. "You got it."

"Very well. Chief, this gentleman here seems to think he needs a little more responsibility in his life. We will oblige him. Gunner's Mate Second Lyndiman is now a gunner's mate first. He's also our new first-stringer on the forward gun. Please inform Mr. Beltrain about it and see that the paperwork gets to my desk when the opportunity presents itself."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Is that suitable for you, Mr. Lyndiman?"

"Yes, ma'am! Thank you!"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Thank you. Dismissed."

After the two men had disappeared back out into the passageway, Amanda had just enough time for another gulp of cooling tea before her headset phones went active.

"Captain, you'd better get back down here to the CIC."

"What's happening, Chris?"

"Offhand, I'd say we're up shit creek and the guy who's rented us the boat has just called time."