Charles Taylor - Show of Force

"I don't quite know what to say, Admiral. I didn't expect this either." He stopped to gather his thoughts, could think of little to say, then, "But the Russians have taken tremendous losses themselves. It's not all on our side."

"That's just it, Bill. Each of us has clobbered the other. Why? What have we got to show for it? I don't even know if Alex is alive to know or even perhaps be pleased with what he's done to us." He turned to look directly at Dailey. "I'm not proud of what we've done to him." He jammed an index finger at his chest. "Not me. Hell, I'd have to show something for it to be proud. A victory. Or whatever the hell you call it these days." He raised his brows, wrinkling his forehead. "But what do I have to show for it, Bill?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what to say, sir. We've heard so little from Washington the last few hours. I assume they've had everything relayed to them."

There was a sharp knock on the door.

"Come," David called out.

A sailor with a message board entered, saluting as he shut the door with his other hand. "Two emergency messages, sir."

David took them and scanned the contents, frowning. Initialing them, he passed the board to Dailey. "I guess things can't get any worse."

Dailey's jaw dropped perceptibly as he read first about the loss of Prince of Peace and then the ill-fated invasion of Islas Piedras. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head slightly, his brows raised in a what-the-hell-do-we-do-now look.

"I'm going to get hold of Alex."

"Sir?"

"I'm going to contact Alex. For Christ's sake, Bill, we've reached a stalemate. He can't get through to Islas Piedras, so we'll probably be able to finish the work there. But, on the other hand, Gorenko seems to have secured the Middle East. It's a trade-off!" The expression on his face seemed to say that it was all so simple now. "We get Africa. They get the Arabs. We. protect the South Atlantic. They get their warm-water port."

"Don't you feel we should wait for further orders, sir?"

In a voice very unlike his usually conservative demeanor, David replied, "Shit no, Bill. Those sons of bitches in Washington must be so goddamn scared of what everybody's saying about them that they're1 going to worry about saving their own hides. Sam Carter won't be able to get a word in edgewise. Shit, when he mentions us, all those scurvy politicians are going to say, 'Who?' When it comes down to your neck, they could care less what's happened out here." He was pacing more rapidly now in the confined space. "Same with Alex, I'll bet." For just a moment, he returned to the Admiral Charles of the previous day. "Hell, Bill, I'll put five on it right now the Party Secretary won't even let Gorenko talk about Alex's ships. After that great speech about protecting the Third World from American aggressors, he's only thinking about how he's going to explain an armed invasion — that didn't work — and that goddamn tanker. Christ, Bill, anyone in the world who isn't white ought to be pretty happy now. For once, we didn't drag everybody else in. We just blasted away at each other, which must have made them feel damn good." He stopped, looked at Dailey politely listening, and sat back down.

"Want me to go on, Bill?" He grinned.

"If you'd like, sir."

"Forget it. I guess everybody in the service feels used at one time or another, but we've been drawing pay for years just for this day, haven't we?"

"You could put it that way."

"Well, that's why I'm going to call Alex. We could continue to shoot at each other, and we probably might once we get finished licking our wounds, so I want to stop it before it starts again. Why should we kill any more Russians?"

"And why should we let them kill any more of us?" The Chief of Staff looked thoughtfully at David. "Point well taken… especially mine."

"Okay. Step number one, Bill. Issue orders to anyone afloat that they are not to fire unless fired upon first. Number two, get one of your comm officers up here on the double. I want direct voice contact with Alex somehow. Number three, get a message off to Washington that we feel Islas Piedras is safe for the time being, and that we are dropping back to regroup. Tell 'em casualties are extreme, just in case they've forgotten, and that if they want to fight anyone, they'd better get some more ships out here fast. And see if you can find a fresh set of whites my size in this ship. Like the lady said, 'I don't have a thing to wear.'"

"Aye, aye, sir. I'll get that comm officer for you first."

Svedrov was crushed, emotionally exhausted. The first message that his Admiral handed him simply stated that the landing on Islas Piedras had failed. It had come from the submarines, not from the landing force. The second slip of paper he had picked off the deck, where it had slipped from Alex Kupinsky's hands. It told of the Prince of Peace. "I will contact David."

It had been a simple statement, not a question. Svedrov knew his advice was not being asked but that a response was necessary. He would continue as Admiral Kupinsky's alter ego, to act both as a right arm and as the royal opposition, whatever the occasion requited.

"Why do you say that? We have won!"

Alex whirled. "Won what, Svedrov? Tell me what we have accomplished today."

"Why… the Americans have been badly beaten. Nimitz is sunk."

"Lenin is also."

"We have destroyed so many of their ships, we could launch an attack on Islas Piedras this instant."

"With what?"

Silence from the other.

"We have used two air groups. The Maldives force is decimated. Gorenko can send us nothing. It is more likely that he is right now trying to explain what happened to that supertanker."

"Admiral, we now have the warm-water port we have needed for so many years."

"And I think, my friend, that Islas Piedras may soon be completed."

Again there was silence from the Chief of Staff. Svedrov did not know what more he could say to his Admiral, a man he revered. He could not comprehend the fact that, after such heavy losses, a task-force commander could look like Kupinsky. To inflict damage, you must accept losses yourself. It was doctrine. But perhaps the older man was right. They could not go on. - '

"I sincerely believe, Svedrov, that only David Charles and I can avoid any more death. It must stop." He slammed both hands hard on the table in front of him. "We cannot afford to lose any more ships or men, or we will have nothing left to sail into that warm-water port of yours. And, if Islas Piedras is completed by the Americans, we must have a strong fleet in the Indian Ocean.

"Svedrov, is there anyone on this little Rezvy who can contact the Americans for me? I will talk to David myself."

The other raised his hands in despair. "I will find out."

"And, I also want you to inform all units that they are to drop back and to use their weapons only to protect themselves." He raised his hands, keeping Svedrov from speaking right away. "I do not think, Svedrov, that we will receive any orders from Moscow. Admiral Gorenko is probably trying to explain right now why so little has been accomplished today."

"But we have done so much."

"And so have the Americans. What do you think is going on with Admiral Charles right now? He is probably waiting for orders from his seniors in Washington, who are trying to explain all of this to their politicians. Can you imagine what the U.N. is saying to the Americans right now? Can you imagine what the whole world thinks about both our countries? Think, Svedrov, what might have happened if either of us had been the first to use atomic weapons."

There was only silence from the other. Svedrov understood. It was just so hard to take when so many ships had been lost, and so many friends he had known from the days at his Higher Naval School. He had not told his Admiral about his brother. He had been made captain of Boiky, before they sailed. Boiky had been lost in the wolfpack attack.