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rights and privileges of a Plank Holder on
said ship, including a clear and unencumbered title to one plank in the flight
deck.” It was signed by C.A.F. “Ziggy” Sprague, right next to the buxom mermaid
in the corner and the two fish giving her ample chest a wide eyed appraisal.
Silhouettes of all three plane types adorned the certificate, and the image of
the Wasp herself was drawn at the top.
    AJ,
as the rest of the crew called him, was also known as “Lucky Lewis” for his skill
at cards. He had already staked out his claim to a plank on the carrier’s flight
deck, a place he often liked to sit with his buddy “Ski” Kotoski, right up near
the bow. Now he was settling in behind a quad 40mm and looking into the clear
skies up ahead.
    It
was finally over, he thought, or very nearly so. If it were really over then why
would he be sitting behind these four steel barrels? If it were really over he’s
be out on his plank on the bow taking in the sun and sea with Ski. The Emperor
had thrown in the towel and made his announcement, but there were many who
would refuse the order to surrender in Japan. At that very moment dissident Japanese
airmen were flying over Tokyo and dropping leaflets urging revolt and a
continuation of the war. Their actions prompted officers loyal to the Emperor to
order all Japanese warplanes disarmed and drained of their fuel, but some slipped
away, the last of the Kamikazes led by Admiral Ukagi.
    “You
figure this thing is ever really going to end?” AJ asked his buddy.
    “Everything
ends, Lucky,” said Ski. “Don’t worry. The day will come when you’ll miss your time
on this ship.”
    “Well
I’m taking that plank with me when I go,” said Lewis.
    “Who
says they’ll retire the ship as soon as we make port, AJ?”
    “Well
if they don’t I’ll leave it here on lend-lease, but nobody scraps this baby without
checking with me first. I get my plank, one way or another.”
     
    * * *
     
    Karpov was staring at the big Plexiglas display
illuminated in luminescent green, blue, and red to indicate the position of all
surface traffic in the vicinity.
    “I
knew they would push things,” he said to Rodenko, his acting Starpom . “That’s
a sizable task group heading our way.”
    “What’s
the plan, sir? Are you thinking to engage or avoid conflict here?”
    Karpov
thought for a moment, then took a deep breath. “If we’re going to start changing
things it may as well begin here.”
    “We
could just as easily sail due east if you need more time to consider the situation,
sir.”
    “Yes,
we could sail east, but that won’t stop what you just reported Rodenko, will it?
Those are planes in the air, and heading our way. Every time I turn around someone
is flying an air strike my way. I just beat off the best the US had on CVN Washington .
Now these little men want to pick a bone with me. What does our SAM inventory
look like?”
    “We
used half our S-400s and a good number of other missiles in that last defensive
action before the Demon blew its top. That leaves us with 100 medium range missiles
on the Klinok system, but only 32 long range S-400s. Close in Kashtan system fired 12 missiles, leaving us with 52 there. That means we have exactly 184
SAMs of all types for this ship.”
    “Have
the other ships reported in?”
    “Yes,
sir. Orlan was in the inner screen with S-400s as well. They fired only
16 missiles and have a substantial inventory remaining, 180 in all. These are
the 9M96E and E2 missiles, sir. They will only range out between 40 and 120 kilometers.
The long range S-400s are with us, the 40N6Es, but Orlan’s missiles are
lightning fast—Mach 15 and capable of thrust vectored high G maneuvers. The
damn things can pull 60 Gs at sea level and 20 Gs at 30,000 meters!”
    “A
superb air defense ship,” said Karpov. “I want her station keeping on our bow at
all times.”
    “One
more thing, sir. This is a hit to kill weapon system. Orlan is going to have
to put a