Choosers of the Slain

52

Captain Margaret Callendar deftly manipulated the small trackball controller on the balcony railing. Across the operations room, a designator circle danced across the Large Screen Display in response.

"The USS Sea Serpent has entered the eastern approaches to Drake Passage with another attack boat, the Royal Navy's HMS Victorix running about four hours behind her…. The British Ark Royal carrier group is also just arriving on station southeast of the Falkland Islands…. On the Falklands themselves, patrol squadron VP-4 has completed deployment and is currently running Orion sweeps south to the ice line beyond South Georgia Island, and west to the South Shetlands. Air Combat Command also reports that they have four B-lCs operational out of Mount Pleasant. They're configured for antishipping strike duties and are on call to launch as needed."

Elliot Mclntyre took the first sip of his first on-watch mug of coffee. "What about the Roosevelt group?" he inquired, leaning back in the observation chair.

"They've successfully transited the Straits of Malvinas and are proceeding on course south. There have been no contacts with Argentine forces."

"And the Cunningham?"

"Running northeast to rendezvous with the Roosevelt. She's had a combat air patrol over her since first light, and she should be joining up with the Teddy at about noon our time."

"Very good. As soon as she's finished replenishing, relieve her on station. Instruct Captain Garrett to proceed independently to Norfolk at best possible speed."

"Aye, aye, sir. As soon as they had air cover, the Cunningham came out of EMCON. They've executed a post-engagement data dump to our computers, and it's undergoing analysis and processing at this time. By mid-watch we should have a pretty good idea of just what all went on down there."

"That's likely to be some interesting reading."

"Yes, sir. Another interesting piece of reading came in as well. Captain Garrett's transmitted a commendations and decorations list."

"Let's have a look at it."

Captain Callendar retrieved a sheaf of hard copy from her desk. Balancing his coffee mug on the chair arm, Maclntyre accepted it and flipped through the first few pages:

Lieutenant Commander Kenneth A. Hiro… Silver Star and Purple Heart; Lieutenant Christine M. Rendino… Silver Star; Lieutenant Frank R. McKelsie… Silver Star; Lieutenant Dixon L. Beltrain… Silver Star; Lieutenant Commander Carl M. Thomson… Silver Star; Lieutenant Vincent M. Arkady & AC 1st Gregory Grestovitch… Distinguished Flying Cross; Seaman Lucas S. Erikson… Bronze Star for Valor…

"Rubber-stamp everything that I can authorize and pass on everything that I can't with my strongest possible endorsement. You can also tack a couple more on to the end of the list. I'm requesting that the Cunningham be considered for the Presidential Unit Citation and I'm putting Amanda Garrett up for the Navy Cross."

Margaret Callendar smiled. "Yes, sir. My pleasure."

"They deserve it, Maggie. We've just fought, and won, the most intense fleet action since the Second World War, and our 'fleet' consisted of a single ship. Damn, I'm proud of those people."

"You won't be the only one, sir. May I relay the word to Captain Garrett's father?"

"Be my guest, Maggie," MacIntyre replied, reclaiming his mug. "That's one medal I wouldn't have minded presenting myself, but I guess Wils really deserves first call on that job. Now, what are the Argentines up to?"

"They seem to be standing down. No aggressive moves anywhere across the board for the last twenty-four hours. Hardly any activity at all except for on the Antarctic Peninsula itself."

"What's happening there?"

"They appear to be abandoning the British stations. They're pulling their garrison units back into San Martin Base. Sigint and satellite imaging indicate that they've started airlifting personnel and equipment out to the Argentine mainland."

"Has this been verified?"

She nodded. "It looks solid, sir. They're going home."

The CINCLANT nodded to himself and took another sip of coffee. It was over. He could feel it. The figurative hairs that had been standing up on the back of his neck ever since he had sent his people into this campaign were lying down again. For one last time he studied the great graphic representation of the near-juncture of the South American and South Polar continents and the passage of ocean between them.

Well done, thou good and faithful servants.

"That's it, then," he said. "I guess we can put this one to bed."

"So it appears, Admiral, and it's a good thing too."

"Now what?"

"We've just caught a Flash Red from the State Department. The situation in Mauritania has just gone critical. Rioting between Arabic and Black African factions is going into its third day, and there are reports of mutiny within some elements of the military. State is sniffing coup fever in the air, if not an outright civil war.

"The airports and borders have been closed, and they'd like fleet units standing by in case it becomes necessary to evacuate both our citizens and the other foreign nationals who are currently in-country."

MacIntyre smiled wryly and drained his mug. "Two international crises within the space of one cup of coffee. Okay, Maggie, let's see who we have in the neighborhood."