Piranha: Firing Point

“About a month to get to the C-1 test, maybe a week after that to get to C-9. And just so you know, that’s the optimistic schedule. If I’m honest with myself, this could take three months all told.”

“Today is Monday, right? You’ve got until Thursday.

By then we’ll be in the East China Sea. And you’d better go get some sensible clothes. You can’t dress like that at sea.”

“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

“The SSNX is leaving. Colleen, and you’re going with it. You’ll have to do your coding on the way. We leave in sixty minutes. See you at the pier.”

Her air of confidence cracked, just a little. “I’m not reading you here. I—”

“You’re getting underway on the Devilfish, Colleen.

The SSNX is deploying to the East China Sea operation area — for those of us in the know, the’op area’—and you are the battlecontrol system.”

“But—”

“Joanna, can you help Ms. O’Shaughnessy pack? Get her to her house and down to the pier by zero six hundred.

Yes?”

Paully White poked his head into the room.

“You’d better see this,” he said, switching the widescreen on. A reporter was standing on the tarmac in the noon sunshine in front of Air Force One. The stairway led to an open door, and the airplane was flanked by Secret Service agents and newsmen.

“… an announcement concerning the war in White China and the deployment of the U.S. backup Rapid Deployment Force. And here she comes now.”

Jaisal Warner walked down the ramp, wearing a dark suit that emphasized her slimness, smiling and waving at reporters. Behind her was Admiral O’Shaughnessy in his service dress blues, his stripes gleaming gold and climbing high up his sleeves. Colleen O’Shaughnessy froze, having moved behind Pacino’s shoulder at his seat at the conference table. Pacino could faintly smell her perfume, and he turned to look up at her. Her features had become soft while she watched her father walk down the steps behind the president.

Warner walked up to a podium, looking determined.

“Good afternoon, Americans,” she began. “Effective immediately, I am appointing Admiral Michael Pacino, U.S. Navy, the supreme commander-in-chief of Pacific U.S. Military Forces. As such. Admiral Pacino will lead the invasion and liberation of White China. All force commanders will, as of this moment, immediately report to him. And, per the special request of Admiral Pacino, also effective immediately, the U.S. military and all branches of the federal government are commencing a total news blackout of the conduct of this conflict against the Red Chinese.” A small uproar broke out among the reporters. Warner held up one hand. “Please, ladies and gentlemen, bear with me. After a detailed study into the loss of the first Rapid Deployment Force, and under the direction of Admiral Pacino, I am ordering the press removed from all U.S. military establishments, starting with the aircraft carriers of the task force of the backup RDF. In addition, any aircraft of any nationality which attempts to approach anywhere within a thousand miles of the task force will be intercepted by the Navy fighter jets of the force and escorted away. In the event any aircraft does not heed the orders of the fighters, that aircraft will be shot down.” Warner paused for effect, greeted with pin-drop silence. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the press, for your cooperation. And for all Americans, I ask for your prayers for the men of the Rapid Deployment Force, and for Admiral Pacino. That is all.”

As Warner walked away, bedlam broke out, shouted questions flying at her from all directions. Paully White clicked the widescreen off. The silence in the room was only momentary, though, for a dozen phones suddenly began ringing in the outer office.

Colleen O’Shaughnessy looked at him in astonishment.

“You’d better hurry. Colleen,” Pacino said, putting his feet on the desk and his hands behind his head. “The supreme commander has spoken.”

“Good to see this hasn’t gone to your head. Admiral,” Colleen said, crinkling her nose at him. Then she swept out the door.

“You knew,” White said in awe. “You knew she’d do that.”

“Of course,” Pacino said. “What the hell else was she going to do? Fire me and Dick O’Shaughnessy? And have the second RDF put on the bottom by the Reds?

I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, well, when this is over, you’ll be retired. Your paycheck stops the day they hit the beach.”

“Paully, if we can do this, I’ll be happy to retire. Let’s just worry about coming out of this with a task force that reaches the beach instead of the bottom of the ocean.”

“You ready for Tanaka?”

“Listen, I want to talk to him, but I need to talk to Dick Livingston, then to Bruce Phillips on the Piranha, and we’ve both got to pack. Get out to the SSNX and meet me aboard. And get Tanaka out there—”

“He’s going with us?”

“Yes, so get him some clothes and set him up in a stateroom. Settle Colleen into one of the other staterooms — in fact, give her the executive officer’s stateroom, so she doesn’t have to share the bathroom with anyone but the captain.”