Designated Targets

Kolhammer thought he detected something more than professional respect in Judge’s voice, but he let it pass. The new captain of the USS Hillary Clinton wasn’t married. He hadn’t even been seriously hooked up before they arrived here.

“She is, indeed, Commander. Now, see that you get yourself back in one piece,” he continued, changing tack. “I know it’s breaking your heart, but we need to clean out the Big Hill. She’s a lot more valuable to us stripped down to bare bones. The retrofit’s going to take a good eight or nine months, and even then she’s not going to need more than a fraction of the systems she’s still carrying. Meantime, I got Leslie fucking Groves turning up here every second day with empty deuce-and-a-halves, telling me to fill ’em up with everything from Nemesis processors to espresso machines.”

“Well, he is building a better A-bomb, sir,” Judge teased.

“Yeah, I know,” said Kolhammer, rolling his eyes. “And he gets only about a tenth of what he wants, but it plays hell with the project management for everyone else. Even with all our processing muscle, and some of our people holding his hand, that bomb isn’t going to be ready until late ’43, early ’44 at best. It’s not like we brought any centrifuges or fast breeders through with us. Meantime, I’ve got immediate need for processing time on about a hundred and forty different design and production lines, damn few of which I would have chosen as priorities, but what are you gonna do?

“We’re trapped by the politics, Mike. Roosevelt got the Zone bill through Congress by the skin of his teeth and the grace of that goddamn sunset clause. You’ve never seen anything like it, the scaremongering and bullshitting that went down. You’d think we were setting up the fucking Fourth Reich here in the Valley.”

“Or the USSA, if you listen to Hoover,” Judge added, causing Kolhammer to throw up his hands.

“Oh, jeez, let’s not get into that. We just don’t have time. Listen, Mike, I’m sending data in this transmission. It’s the specs for the project I want you to take over when you get here. I want to ramp up production of the F-86 by the end of winter, but I also want to be ready to jump through another generation, up to a prototype F-5 by the end of next year. You’re going to get that ready for me. Study up on the package while you’re en route, and choose your division heads from the guys you’ve got with you. You can prep them along the way. I want you to tie up and come running down that gangway, raring to go.”

Kolhammer wasn’t really expecting Judge to object, even though he was effectively taking the Clinton away from him. He’d been out to Hawaii a month earlier, and the ship had a lost feeling about her, like an unfinished story that would now never be written. Everyone he spoke to wanted to move on to their next assignment. It was a sorry way for the old girl to end up, but he told himself—they all told themselves—that she’d be back one day, kicking butt and taking names, just like her namesake.

The two men had a few more minutes before they lost the link.

“What’s the latest with Jones?” asked Kolhammer. “I haven’t had an update today.”

“I’ve sent along his last four data bursts, Admiral. The latest came an hour ago. They pretty much blocked Homma’s advance before it really got going. Lonesome wants to pull his armor and close air support out of the line, link up with 2 Cav, and hit the Japanese flanks. They can’t get reinforcements past Willet and Spruance. They’ve tried air supply out of Moresby, but it’s just not their gig. They’re well and truly fucked.

“Jones should have it wrapped up pretty soon, which’ll be a boost for the Aussies. Truth is, they were shitting themselves.”

Kolhammer shrugged. “Fair enough. They had good reason, too, after New Guinea. The whole thing was developing a very unpleasant momentum. So you think we can get the Eighty-second back here soon?”

A lopsided grin spread over Captain Judge’s tanned face. “I don’t believe General MacArthur will let Colonel Jones or a single one of his marines out of sight before VJ Day. He knows possession is nine tenths of the law.”

“Tough shit,” said Kolhammer. “I need him here to work up the land warfare programs. The training cadre we put together is good, but it doesn’t have the critical mass I need. MacArthur can make do. You’ll see—I’ve also included a package for Jones in the transmission. Make sure it gets out to him before you leave.”

“Will do, Admiral.”

Kolhammer looked at the handwritten list on his desk. There was one last item he need to discuss. “I really don’t like the look of the reports coming out of Europe, Mike,” he began. “When did you get your last update from Halabi?”

Judge frowned on-screen. “We received an encrypted burst via relay yesterday. Why, has something else happened? The Soviets haven’t moved, have they?”