Part 8
But should I ne'er return again
Still with thy love I'll bind me
Dishonor's breath shall never stain
The name I leave behind me
-- U.S. 7th Cavalry, c. 1870s
At 9:25 on Tuesday morning, Dick leaned against the wall outside Bruce's office at Wayne Enterprises, trying to see how long he could spin his brimmed cap on his finger like a basketball. He was handicapped by the less-than-perfect aerodynamics, but that just made the whole thing more challenging. Bruce had asked him to wear his uniform today, but he hadn't said why. The sound of approaching footsteps put a stop to his game, and he looked up to see an old familiar face.
"Hi, Lucius!"
"Dick! It's good to see you -- you certainly look sharp! Bruce mentioned you would be by today." Lucius Fox smiled at Dick, but there was a shadow in his eyes that hadn't been there when Dick left.
"Lucius, I'm ... sorry about Sarah. I wish I could've been here for the service."
Sarah Fox, Lucius's daughter, had been a fire control officer aboard the Manilla Bay when it was attacked by the Ch'ton. The ship had sustained heavy damage but had still managed to take out the attacker's ship. Sarah was injured at the beginning of the attack, but she felt she was still able to do her job, so she stayed at her post. The captain's after-action report made it clear that the survival of the Manilla Bay was due in no small part to Lt. Fox's steadfastness. Unfortunately, by the time the attack was over, Sarah had lost too much blood.
"Thank you, Dick. Nancy and I really appreciated the letter you sent." He closed his eyes in pain for a moment; then he opened them and continued on a purposefully lighter note. "Bruce told me about your medal and your promotion. Congratulations!"
"Thanks."
"We were interrupted before he could tell me much, but I thought he said something about your being transferred to Houston?"
"Actually, I'm on leave this week, then next Monday, I'm to report at Johnson Space Center in Houston for a temporary job as a flight instructor." Dick took a deep breath, as he still couldn't believe his next assignment. "Then, I'm headed to a brand-new ship, the Roger Chaffee7. When she commissions, I'll be in charge of the air wing."
"Wow. Definitely congratulations, Dick!"
"I still can't believe they're making me the CAG," he said in wonder.
Dick had actually protested a bit when Admiral Harkness told him of his assignment. Harkness had responded that the Chaffee was a small carrier, a new design that would be used primarily for reconnaissance and support work. In an ideal world, this carrier class would have at least a commander in charge of its fighters, but the Navy was definitely feeling a personnel crunch. Matters weren't so bad with technical personnel, support personnel, and even pilots. The crunch came in command personnel -- the new technologies had forced a steep learning curve on everyone involved, and the older commissioned and non-commissioned officers were having some troubles adjusting. The Navy also didn't want to strip its "wet navy" ships of all top-quality personnel. A war going on in outer space did not mean everything ground to a halt on Earth.
So, the Roger Chaffee would be skippered by a commander instead of a captain, and a brand new lieutenant commander would be in charge of the air wing.
Dick was telling Lucius a story about his wingman when Bruce walked through his office door to join them.
"Dick! I'm sorry, have you been waiting long?"
"Nah. Traffic's a lot lighter than I was expecting."
After exchanging further pleasantries with Lucius, Bruce led Dick away from his office to the elevator.
"So, what's up, Bruce?" Dick asked.
"I thought you might be interested in seeing some new ... toys R&D has come up with for the fighters," Bruce replied tentatively. Seeing Dick's immediate interest, he relaxed and explained further. "The main thing we've been working on is a new shielding system."
"Cool!"
Before Bruce could elaborate further, the elevator had reached the ground floor. Both men exited, and Bruce looked around until he saw a slightly-built man with thinning gray hair in the uniform of a rear admiral. Bruce raised his hand in greeting and walked over to him. Dick, mystified, followed and stood at attention at Bruce's right.
"Admiral! Good to see you!" Bruce exclaimed. "I figured it would be easier to meet down here instead of having you traipse up to my office and then have to come back down again."
The admiral nodded to Bruce and to Dick. "Good to see you also, Bruce. At ease, son. You are ...?"
"Oh, my apologies, Admiral! This is my foster-son, Richard Grayson. Dick, this is Admiral Warner Caslet of Weapons Research."
Caslet held out his hand, and Dick shook it politely.
"All right, gentlemen," Bruce said, motioning for them to follow him through the connecting corridors to Wayne Enterprises' R&D Division. "Let's get started on our tour."
Admiral Caslet halted in surprise. "Your son is coming with us? Does he have sufficient security clearance for this?"
Bruce drew himself up to his full height and let a little bit of Batman's growl creep into his tone as he replied, "His security clearance is irrelevant."
Dick tried to head off the train wreck he saw approaching. "Look, Bruce, you go on with Admiral Caslet -- I can come back tomorrow."
Bruce waved his hand, dismissing Dick's offer. "Admiral, perhaps you don't realize that in addition to being my foster-son, Dick is also the heir to Wayne Enterprises and a major stockholder. He has as much right to be here as I do!" Taking a deep breath, he brought himself back into "character." "You might even say he has more right -- he actually knows what these machines do!" He laughed, and to anyone who didn't know him well, the laugh almost sounded genuine.
Caslet glared at Bruce, then at Dick, and then motioned for Bruce to continue leading them. After a few moments walking in silence, the admiral unbent enough to ask, "So, Commander -- I assume you are here on leave?"
"Yes sir, for about a week. I've been deployed on the Texas for the last two years."
Realizing Dick had actually served on the "front lines" and noticing Dick's Distinguished Flying Cross ribbon, the admiral unbent a little further. "Are you going back to the Texas?" his voice now warmer in tone.
"No sir, I'll be TDY8 at Johnson until the Roger Chaffee commissions."
"Flight instructor?"
"Yessir. Then, I'll be the Chaffee's new CAG."
"Good, good."
Bruce interjected, "Dick, I don't think I ever got a chance to ask you why they were making you a flight instructor?"
Dick replied, "The Navy found out pretty quickly that the tried-and-true methods of training fighter pilots still worked out in space, but only up to a point. Remember, we're dealing with new ships, new weapons, and a new enemy that doesn't always respond the way we would expect them to. So the brass, " he nodded his head to Caslet with a smile, "decided we needed to spread what new combat experience we accumulated as quickly as possible."
Caslet acknowledged the nod, and continued Dick's explanation. "BuPers, that is, the Bureau of Personnel, decided to rotate particularly gifted pilots home when they could be spared, so that they could teach the new pilots and share their techniques and innovations with our more experienced instructors."
"I see. That's quite a compliment, Dick," Bruce said with pride.
~~~~~~~~~~
"All right, gentlemen," Bruce said as they approached a large concrete bunker on one side of the huge warehouse-like testing facility. "This is where we are putting our new shielding system through its paces."
One of the engineers, a slender, middle-aged woman with dark brown hair, looked up as the visitors approached. When she saw who it was, she beamed and walked quickly over to greet them.
"Hello, Mr. Wayne. Dick! I hadn't heard you were home!" She gave Dick a quick hug, which he returned smiling broadly.
"Hi, Dr. Andy! Yeah, I just got into Gotham last night."
Bruce then made the introductions, "Admiral, this is Dr. Andrea Venizelos. Andy, this is Admiral Caslet."
Andy shook the admiral's hand and led them inside the bunker. At one end of the space was an odd contraption about the size of large watermelon; at the other end was a cannon-like device which Dick recognized as being similar to the guns on his fighter.
"Admiral Caslet, Dick -- what you're looking at is a shielding device that can take whatever the enemy can dish out for a short period of time. We're still working on the endurance factor, but right now, it can take a concentrated energy bolt for more that two minutes before it burns out."
Both Dick and the Admiral were impressed. Dick asked, "What about cumulative fire -- say, over the course of a five- or ten-minute firefight?"
"The shield spreads the impact, so no one particular spot is vulnerable; unfortunately, it also means if you receive more than two minutes of fire, it's gonna go. Like I said, we're still working on endurance."
"Still," commented the admiral, "that is a great improvement over what we currently have available."
Dick nodded. "What kind of power will it take to run that thing, though?"
"No free lunch, I'm afraid. Right now, we're looking at a six percent power drop on the Deuces and five percent on the Barracudas."
The admiral said, "That will still put us ahead of the Ch'ton, though. Right?"
"Right," replied Andy. "Although it will cut the Barracuda's margin to only 22 percent."
"Huh?!? What are you guys talking about?" exclaimed Dick. "There's no way, I can afford to give up five percent of my power, and my Barracuda's nowhere near 22 percent more powerful than the Ch'ton fighters!"
Bruce, Andy, and Caslet stared at Dick as if he had just grown two heads. All three then started talking at once until Bruce raised his hands for quiet.
"Dick, according to our figures, your Barracuda should be around 30 percent faster than the Ch'ton with 26 percent more firepower. Are you saying this isn't the case?"
"Darn right, that's what I'm saying!"
"Why haven't we been told that the Ch'ton ships have gotten more powerful?" asked the admiral.
"They haven't, sir," replied Dick. "The Bugs aren't exactly known for innovations. We're fighting the same type of ships we've always fought using the same type of ships we've always used."
The admiral and Bruce exchanged puzzled looks. Bruce asked, "You're not using any of the upgraded Barracudas?"
Now it was Dick's turn to look puzzled. "What upgraded Barracudas? While I was Capt. Tremaine's XO, we got ten new Barracudas straight from the factory, and they were exactly the same as the ones we already had."
Caslet said, "That's crazy! The new design has been in effect for over a year now. Surely you must have seen them?"
"No sir! I know what I've been flying for the last two years!"
"Luthor!" muttered Bruce. When everyone stared at him, he elaborated. "LexCorp was the primary contractor for the first Barracudas. LexCorp was also the low bidder on the more expensive upgrade specification. At the time, we just assumed he was able to do that because he already had the systems in place. But what if ..."
"He just kept building the original designs and pocketed the difference in costs," Dick finished.
"But how? Even assuming a former president of the United States would do something like that, how could he carry something like that out?" asked the admiral in disbelief.
Dick and Bruce exchanged knowing looks. Dick replied, "It really wouldn't be that difficult. All he has to do is 'persuade' the Navy's representative at LexCorp to look the other way, and build a few birds to specifications to show the brass. We never heard anything about an upgrade on the Texas, but even if we had, I can still think of several ways Luthor could have finessed it. It would take quite a while before a CAG got suspicious enough to check with fleet headquarters or Washington."
Admiral Caslet sighed and then said in a resigned voice, "I guess I'm going to have to take this to the Inspector General's office then. I hope we're wrong, but we need to find out if President Luthor or his company really is doing something this reprehensible."
The three men said goodbye to Dr. Venizelos and walked back to the main lobby. The admiral turned to Bruce and holding out his hand, he said "I need to get back to Washington immediately. Thank you for the tour." He then shook Dick's hand. "Good luck, son. I may contact you down in Houston if the IG has any questions."
"Aye, sir. Thank you sir."
Once the admiral had left, Dick turned to Bruce. "Now what, kemosabe?"
With a half-smile, which Dick recognized as belonging more to Batman than Bruce Wayne, Bruce replied, "I wonder if Superman's eaten lunch yet?"
** End Part 8 **
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7 Roger Chaffee (1935-1967): Navy pilot and U.S. astronaut who was a member of the three-man Apollo 1 crew killed when a flash fire swept their space capsule during a simulation of a launching scheduled for Feb. 21, 1967. Chaffee died along with the veteran space travellers Virgil I. Grissom and Edward H. White II. They were the first casualties of the U.S. space program.
8 TDY - Temporary Duty