“By towing that barge behind them,” McLanahan replied, “they made themselves look another one hundred and fifty feet longer.”
“They were towing a garbage barge, for Christ’s sake!” Balboa retorted. “Thousands of those barges are being towed around the Strait every week, and no one’s mistaken them for warships before! ”
“A garbage barge with steel radar-reflective walls, being towed on a short rope very close to the ferry — and the barge was fitted with an IFF interrogator,” McLanahan reminded him. “It was sending out identification interrogation signals just like a warship. Why would a civilian vessel have a Square Head IFF on board?”
“That’s such a lame excuse, McLanahan, that I’m embarrassed for you for making it,” Balboa said. “An aviator with your reputation making wild accusations like that to cover up your own mistakes — it’s pretty sad. You obviously picked up a signal from someone else, or you mistook a standard marine nav radar for an IFF.
“But even if it was an IFF, as you claim, why in hell did you attack that ferry?” Balboa asked. “Even if that ferry really was a Chinese cruiser — and you geniuses should know China doesn’t own any cruisers — you didn’t have permission for any weapon releases, let alone those Striker rocket bombs. Why did you open fire?”
“As we explained in our report, Admiral, the Navy frigates were under attack by rocket-powered torpedoes,” McLanahan said. “We have no defenses against torpedoes — our decoys or jammers wouldn’t have done any good. All our sensors indicated that a Chinese warship had launched numerous Stallion torpedoes at the frigates. The Duncan was a sitting duck for another salvo. We had no choice but to return fire.”
“Even though you didn’t have permission, even though you were not given a command.”
“I had permission to launch,” Jeff Denton interjected.
“What was that?” Balboa asked. McLanahan turned away from the videoconference camera and glared at Denton to remain quiet. “What did you say, Captain Denton?”
“Nothing.”
“Repeat what you said, Captain, or I’ll have you arrested and thrown in the brig right now. ”
Denton looked at Elliott, then at McLanahan, who wore expressionless faces now — the bell could not be unrung. “Sir, the frigates were under attack.”
“Who ordered you to launch, Captain?”
Denton paused, then lowered his eyes. “General Elliott,” he said in a low voice.
“Repeat that last?”
“General Elliott,” Denton blurted out. “Sir, we were under attack by what we thought was a Chinese cruiser, by four formations of Chinese fighters, and then by Foxbat fighters. I was in the OSO’s seat — I controlled the Strikers.”
“But it was Elliott who ordered you to launch, correct?”
“The Duncan was dead in the water, and the other frigate was coming about to help it,” Denton said excitedly. “Our guys were going to get plastered. I knew we had to do something. So when General Elliott ordered me to attack the cruiser, I did. The computer said it was a cruiser, Admiral. The computer was running good.”
“That’s enough, Captain,” Balboa said. “That’s enough — to file charges in federal court against General Elliott for criminal misconduct. Maybe even murder in the second degree.”
“What?” McLanahan shouted. “You’ve got to be joking, Admiral!”
“You think that’s funny, Mr. McLanahan? This is even better — I’m going to file charges against you for the same thing. You were the mission commander, and even though you had Denton in the seat, you were responsible for his actions. And because Cheshire, Atkins, Bruno, and Denton are all active-duty officers, I’m preferring charges against them under the Uniform Code of Military Justice for disobeying a direct order, for conduct unbecoming an officer, and for dereliction of duty.”
“George, I was expecting you’d try to get me thrown into jail,” Brad Elliott said with amazing calm, “but to threaten any of these other outstanding individuals with a crime is beyond ridiculous — it’s psychotic. If you carry through with this stupid idea, you’re the worst example of a leader that has ever worn a uniform.”
“I believe that honor has already fallen to you, Elliott,” Balboa said. “And I’m not through yet. Because of your illegal, criminal actions, the entire Sky Masters, Inc.’s, Megafortress project has been compromised, and it now falls upon the government to clean up the mess. As employees, officers, directors, and shareholders of the company, yours and Mr. McLanahan’s actions have implicated Sky Masters, Inc., in your criminal activities as well. You can kiss any idea of a military service contract good-bye, I’ll see to that. How would it look to reward a company that started a nuclear exchange and killed hundreds of civilians with a multimillion-dollar defense contract?”
“George, the only persons you’re going to harm are those who believe in things like performance, value, integrity, and honesty,” Elliott said. “Obviously, you don’t believe in anything like that. Our hardware and our people did a good job. You shouldn’t punish a good company because you want to make my life miserable.”
“Fortunately, it’s all tied together, Elliott,” Balboa said. “I get to shit- can you and your friends all at once — and you brought it all on yourself. All you had to do was obey orders and stay out of the fighting, but you didn’t, and now I’ve been ordered to make sure that you don’t screw up again. Here are your new orders, folks, and if you disobey them, you will find yourself in prison and your company shut down, buried in tax liens so deep you’ll need a bulldozer to get out from under them:
“Unfortunately, since you are the only ones who know how to fly those things you’ve been screwing with, I can’t confine you in the custody of federal marshals until you return to the States. Within three days, you are to make repairs to your aircraft sufficient to make them airworthy, and then you will return all of the aircraft leased from the government directly to the Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Center at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Tucson, Arizona — the Boneyard.”
“You can’t do that, sir,” McLanahan said quickly. “Those planes are out on a long-term lease with Sky Masters, Inc. The money’s been paid.” “Well, that explains a lot, McLanahan — you only care about your contracts, your money, not about obeying orders, or preserving national security, or selling out the commander in chief,” Balboa said. “Forget the money, McLanahan — your company will never see it, and anything already paid will be seized by the government. The lease will be canceled. The money we’ll seize will be used to pay for the federal marshals I’ve assigned to guard the aircraft and to keep you and the folks from Sky Masters, Inc., under surveillance.”
“But those planes belong to Eighth Air Force and Air Combat Command,” McLanahan said. “I signed for them myself from General Samson and ACC. They’re not fragged for the Boneyard. They still have assigned hangar space and a project office at Edwards.”
“Not anymore they don’t,” Balboa said. “I recommended they be dismantled and the program canceled, and the Chiefs will agree.
“If the aircraft are not flyable, the aircraft will be destroyed in place, wherever they are, and the costs of the destruction and cleanup will be charged to Sky Masters, Inc., in the lawsuit that will be filed that same day. Written orders will be transmitted to you shortly. That is all.” The computer announced that it had cut off Guam from the videoconference.
“Shit, I can’t believe it,” Elliott swore. He got up slowly, massaging his left arm and shoulder. He popped a couple of antacid tablets and washed them down with a cup of coffee. “Balboa’s an asshole. He always was. He’s probably still carrying a grudge from our days at the National War College. He can’t stand to lose face. He’ll blame everybody else for the smallest failure and take away anyone else’s accomplishments.” Patrick McLanahan opened the door to the command post battle staff room, which signaled Jon Masters and Wendy McLanahan that they were permitted to enter. He saw the looks on their faces, and knew that they had been listening in to the entire communication — after all, Jon Masters had designed the satellite-based communications system they were using, so he would know how to bypass the Pentagon security encryption routines. “I can’t believe this — it’s like a nightmare,” Wendy said, as she came over and put her arms around her husband. “They can’t do this! You risked your lives for this project, and now he wants to throw you in jail?”