Phantom force the uss cu.., p.53
Phantom Force (The USS Cunningham Quintet Book 5), page 53
What was important was that the flagpole was still standing and the flag was flying. Everything else would come in time.
Goodyard and his people were not the only ones returning to their duties. Across the square, repairs and refurbishment were also underway at the battered presidential complex and the Ministry of Defense had taken over one of the abandoned business hotels as its ad hoc headquarters. The square itself was still dotted with the burned-out wreckage of military vehicles and one helicopter, but a military band stood by at the base of the smoke-stained MONAS spire, along with a small cluster of government and civil officials.
A Seabee petty officer climbed to the gangway beside the ambassador and saluted smartly. “Sir, communications reports President Kediri’s helicopter is inbound at this time.”
“Thank you, son. My respects to Lieutenant Culbertson. Could he have my car ready?”
“Right away, sir.”
Goodyard turned to the slight, elderly Papuan in the summer weight suit standing at his side. “Mr. Ambassador, would you care to accompany me to greet the President?”
Chief Akima, the Ambassador General of the newborn Papuan Republic of New Guinea, nodded gravely. “I would be most pleased to do so, Mr. Ambassador. My nation wishes to become a good neighbor.”
The White House
Washington D.C.
0850 Hours, Zone Time, November 24, 2008
“What do you think, Harry?” the President asked, buttering half of a biscuit.
“I think it’s about as favorable an outcome as we could have asked for, sir,” Harrison Van Lynden replied from across the table covered with their working breakfast. “At least in the short term. The Ketalaman military coup has collapsed and the Kediri government has regained nominal control over most of the archipelago. Sporadic fighting is continuing on Sumatra, with the Islamic radicalists swearing the usual fight to the death – but they lost their best troops aboard the captured ferries, along with a large number of their senior, most fanatical command cadre. It’ll knock the wind out of their sails for a while. The Indonesians won’t be able to eliminate the radicals totally, but the previous status quo should be restored.”
“What about that nasty situation on Bali?”
“The purge is over and some of the Muslim Balinese are returning. Both sides in the conflict, Hindu and Muslim, are recognizing how they were set up by Ketalaman. There are genuine regrets for how things turned out. If Kediri follows through with his promised semi-autonomy for the Balinese, I think the fences can be mended.”
“If he follows through,” President Childress said pointedly, taking a bite out of his biscuit.
“We control the aid packages the Indonesians are going to need for recovery,” the Secretary of State replied. “That will give us a degree of leverage. Beyond that, Kediri had the hell scared out of him. Scared men are sometimes willing to change.”
“We can hope.”
“It’s like the bottom of Pandora’s box, sir. There’s always hope.”
“That’s the only thing that keeps me sane in this insanity, Harry.” President Childress reached for the other half of his biscuit, wondering if the First Lady might catch him sneaking an illicit spoonful of honey. “What else do we have to worry about?”
“The Aegean, Mr. President. Greece and Turkey. This time, I think they mean it.”
Weh Island
The western approaches to the Straits of Malacca
1815 Hours; Zone Time, November 23, 2008
“I insisted on doing this myself, Major Quillain,” Amanda said, deftly pinning the bronze oak leaves to the collar of Stone’s khaki uniform shirt. “And this as well.” She came up onto her toes and lightly touched the big Marine’s cheek with her lips.
The newly promoted commander of the Sea Demon force actually blushed under his tan. “Well, I sure as hell would rather you do it than the Admiral. No disrespect intended, sir.”
Laughter rang in the main salon and every officer gathered there – Navy, Marine, Air Force and Army – applauded. So did Amanda as she stepped back, allowing MacIntyre and the others to press close with their barrage of handshakes and shoulder slaps.
More than one mission was ending. The quest to make this radical thing called Phantom Force a cohesive, effective whole had succeeded as well. Bonds had been built over these past few weeks and this evening’s wingding in honor of Quillain’s cleared promotion would be another brick cemented into place.
A dream that Amanda had committed to paper as an intellectual exercise had suddenly and unexpectedly become reality, sweeping its dreamer into a new adventure.
Dreams have a way of doing that. It had happened to her more than once of late.
Suddenly, Amanda found that she needed a little of that time to herself that she intermittently required. Easing around the perimeter of the group in the salon, she slipped out of the boat deck hatch.
Her ship was chasing the sinking sun into a flame-colored horizon. Weh Island was drifting past to port, the last outrider of the Indonesian archipelago. Ahead lay the open reaches of the Indian Ocean and Diego Garcia.
Within a few days, the commando carrier USS Shenandoah would creep back into her cocoon for maintenance and replenishment, and the elements of her air group and Sea Demon force would disperse to their training bases around the world.
As for the merchant ship Galaxy Shenandoah, she would cruise the data streams of the world’s infonets as a falsified set of shipping documents here or a bribed harbor master there. Like the mythical US navy man of war, the USS Tuscarora, she would be the ship that inevitably had just sailed yesterday or that wasn’t due in until next week.
Until there was a need.
Captain Amanda Lee Garrett leaned against the rail and found that she was supremely content. Her life had taken a number of radical new turns and, now that she had a moment to contemplate, she found that she approved of them all.
She had a ship to command and she had the promise of the Admiral’s stars that had seemed so elusive. An old lover had made the delicate transition to dear friend and an old friend had made the equally delicate transition to dear lover.
She had the rich promise of a new personal life to explore, one that might give her a taste of the roots and the home she had so long been forced to deny herself.
Someone coming to lean beside her brought her back to herself.
“Sherry and soda, correct?” Elliot MacIntyre inquired, passing her a slender glass.
“Correct,” she smiled back, taking an appreciative sip. “Mmm, that is good. I know that having a wine mess aboard is hideously decadent and un-navy-like – and that Josephus Daniels is no doubt turning over in his grave – but frankly, I don’t give a damn.”
MacIntyre took a pull from his own bottle of Tsingtao. “The old Royal Navy fought two World Wars with ‘wet’ ships and no one ever accused them of being sissies.”
“Very true. The world and the Defense Department are just going to have to accept that we do things a little differently aboard the Shenandoah.”
“Granted.” MacIntyre grunted an acknowledgement around another drink of beer. “What are your plans after we dock in Diego?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Amanda replied. “I’ve got post-mission analysis to do. There’s some fine-tuning that needs to be done with the ship, the Sea Demons and the air group. I can see right now we’re going to need more long-range anti-shipping capacity aboard. And more area anti-air. I’ve got some ideas about how we can pull that off without too many structural modifications.”
“When’s the last time you took a real leave, Amanda?” MacIntyre interrupted.
“Leave?” She had to think about it for a moment. “I suppose it was last year, just before the Sea Fighters went aboard the Carlson. Yes, I guess it was a little over a year ago.”
“Then you’re way past due. When we get back to Diego Garcia, you will stand down and use that accumulated leave time.” He cut off her protest. “You may consider that an order, Captain. I do not need a burned-out officer commanding the flag ship of NAVSPECFORCE.”
“As you wish, sir,” she replied. “And I guess it would be nice to spend Christmas in Norfolk with Dad. He’s heard some rather conflicting stories about me lately.”
MacIntyre looked toward the darkening horizon astern. “And maybe you could spend a few days in Hawaii on your way back,” he said carefully.
“That would be nice too. We could discuss the Shenandoah’s modifications package … among other things.”
They exchanged wry looks and Amanda leaned closer, so their shoulders barely brushed. It was going to be very different for both of them. But maybe it was time to be different.
They stood quietly for a time. watching the evening settle over the ever-lengthening wake.
“What do you think, Amanda?” MacIntyre said finally. “You did know him better than any of us. Do you think he really did go into the screws?”
She shook her head. “No, the Old Gods of the East Indies would never allow him to die such a plebian death. He’s still out there, Elliot. He’s out there somewhere with his sea people and his Morning Stars and his salted away millions. By now, he probably also has a plan. We, the world and President Kediri have not heard the end of Makara Harconan.” Amanda looked curiously at her lover. “Does that bother you a little?”
MacIntyre’s strong weathered features went thoughtful for a long minute. Then a glint of humor invaded his dark eyes. “No,” he said finally. “No, by God, it doesn’t. If the seven seas are to stay the seven seas, there’s got to be at least one buccaneer left to sail ‘on the account’.” MacIntyre lifted his drink in salute. “To the Raja Samudra.”
Amanda lifted her glass as well. “To the king of the sea.”
Far astern, the distant white sails of a Bugi pinisi caught and reflected the last green flash of the setting sun.
West on 66
If you enjoyed Phantom Force and the rest of James H. Cobb’s U.S.S. Cunningham series, click HERE or on the image below to check out his gripping standalone crime thriller, West on 66:
‘A HIGH-OCTANE THRILLER’ Chicago Tribune
A mysterious young woman walks into a lonely truck stop and asks a stranger for a ride.
Deputy Sheriff Kevin Pulaski is on vacation and has plenty of time to kill, so he agrees to help her.
But he soon discovers she is no ordinary hitchhiker. Instead, she is running for her life from hardened criminals who believe she holds the secret to finding a lost fortune of gangland cash…
Click HERE to read West on 66 today!
James H. Cobb was the author of the USS Cunningham thrillers featuring Amanda Lee Garrett – of which Phantom Force is Book 5 – as well as West on 66. He came from a U.S. Navy family and was an avid student of military history and technology. He was a member of the United States Naval Institute and the Navy League and passed away in July, 2014.
First published in English by Silvertail Books in 2022
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Copyright © The Estate of James H. Cobb 2022
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James H. Cobb, Phantom Force (The USS Cunningham Quintet Book 5)
