The Art of War

FOURTEEN

Batman paced the length of the flag bridge that was located immediately above the ship’s bridge. His watch team, consisting of a flag watch officer, a quartermaster, boatswain’s mate, and an assortment of pilot fish, watched him uneasily. They were all familiar with his restless temper and moods, his need for physical action when under stress. They had seen it often in TFCC, when Batman eschewed sitting in his elevated leather chair and tried to pace in the much smaller compartment. Here, at least there was room for him to move without stepping on everyone’s headset cords.

At most times during the transit into the Gulf, Batman had been content to remain on the 03 level, checking their progress in TFCC and watching the plat camera monitor. But this time, some deep instinct seemed to have gotten him all wound up. And while none of them could pinpoint the cause — indeed, Batman himself could not put it into words — his staff immediately picked up his attitude. There was something wrong, something out of the ordinary, something waiting for them.

Lab Rat was also concerned, but his worries had a specific cause, one that Batman knew as well. The shore station in the desert in Iran was continuing to expand. Intelligence reported that an Aeroflot jet had touched down there yesterday, and although a sandstorm had masked most of the details, it couldn’t be good. Additionally, there was some HUMINT, or human intelligence, coming out of the region that indicated Iran was on the move and in a big way, serving as a focal point for the constant pernicious aspirations for Arab unity. With last night’s walkout at the United Nations by all the Middle Eastern delegates, the situation was not looking good.

Most of the commentators, including ACN correspondent Pamela Drake, viewed the walkout as purely symbolic. They seemed to find it incomprehensible, despite the continued fighting in the Middle East, that the Arab nations could actually intend evil or that they could constitute a threat to the American forces there. Lab Rat viewed their analysis as shortsighted and self-serving. There was no more volatile area in the world, as far as he was concerned, and Iran did nothing without a purpose. As the Shiite Moslem groups claimed more and more power within the United States’s former ally, the situation became more precarious. He doubted that all of the Middle Eastern nations could ever put aside ancient rivalries long enough to form a united front, not for long anyway, but last night’s actions certainly increased volatility in the region.

Batman’s pacing had an almost hypnotic effect on Lab Rat. He found himself shifting his weight to follow the admiral’s pacing, felt a compulsion to join him. Finally, simply to break the hypnotic effect, Lab Rat moved out from behind the chart table and stood in the middle of the bridge.

At five feet two inches, Lab Rat was dwarfed by the admiral’s mass. In recent years, Batman had had a tendency to put on some weight around the middle, adding bulk to his already large frame. Although he was a few inches shorter than Tombstone, Batman easily topped six feet. His shoulders were broad, his face deceptively placid except for the brilliant blue eyes.

At first, Lab Rat thought that Batman did not see him and would simply stride right over him as he paced. But Batman stopped and stared down at the diminutive intelligence officer. “You got something for me?”

“No, Admiral. And you?”

Batman shook his head. He touched Lab Rat on the shoulder, and said, “Come with me.” He led the way out to the starboard bridge wing. As soon as they stepped out, the heat and humidity hit Lab Rat like a blow. It was well over 100 degrees, with the humidity at least 90 percent. The air itself sucked the energy out of your bones, reducing you to a mass of flesh that barely wanted to move.

Batman seemed not to notice. He stared at the coast to the right, an almost hungry look his eyes. “You see that? You know what the problem is here, Lab Rat? Everything is too damned close together. There’s no reaction time, no margin of safety — you can’t afford to be wrong even once. And the bitch of it is, by stationing a carrier here all the time, we’re accomplishing just what the Arabs want us to.” He glanced over at the intelligence officer.

“How’s that, sir?”

Batman straightened up and made an all-encompassing gesture. “The thing we forget is that this area is ancient. So ancient we can’t even begin to understand it. Any solutions to the problems here will have to come from inside the Middle East. The peace we impose is an illusion.” He slumped down and put his elbows on the highly polished wood railing. “And yet we come here anyway. And every time we do, we help them achieve the one thing they can’t do on their own — build Arab unity. Because the enemy of my enemy is my friend, you know? We give them something they can all hate together, a reason to put their differences aside for a little while. And when we do that, maybe we get them to start working on solving their own regional problems. We can’t play police here forever — it’s just not feasible.”

Lab Rat nodded. Batman’s position was not an unreasonable one, although he doubted that most politicians thought that way. Everything he’d seen on the media following the walkout at the United Nations seemed to indicate that no one was taking it seriously. It was a gesture, the commentators said, a demonstration of unity. Nothing more.

But like Batman, Lab Rat thought it was very much something more. Everything had a purpose, and it wasn’t necessarily the meaning that an American mind would assign to it.

And in a way, could you blame them? How would the United States feel if a coalition of outsiders started imposing their will on American society?

To the right, Iran. To the left, Iraq. Both nations had so much in common, a history they shared that spanned centuries, and every reason in the world that they ought to be left to settle their own affairs.

He glanced further astern and saw the crippled cruiser limping along, mainly keeping station. Her search radar was turning, and Lab Rat knew that inside her hull, technicians were working feverishly to bring the other systems up as well.

Batman followed his gaze. “Yeah… and there’s that. We can’t let them get away with that, not at all.” He slammed his fist down on the railing in frustration. “Rock, hard place — for once I wish there were some easy answers.”