A situation report, or SITREP, was a standard military briefing. Captain Pruitt wasted no time with pleasantries. “We’re on a heading west by southwest to link up with the 12th Marine Littoral Regiment at Naval Base Guam.”
At this point, Pruitt brought up a holographic display panel that showed what looked like a short, stubby, miniature aircraft carrier crashing through the waves below. “The distance to Guam is just over 3,300 nautical miles. And since we have a maximum range of just 1,600 miles, the three airships in our squadron are flying escort with this Austin class transport dock. This enables us to periodically refuel and take on supplies.”
“Why is it an Austin class ship?” Foster wanted to know. “The Navy promised us a San Antonio class amphibious transport dock.” His avatar accurately portrayed the deep scowl marring his features.
“Sir,” Pruitt used the word clinically, and Ranell sensed that his use of the honorific was not an expression of any deeply felt sense of respect. “IndoPacCom is the largest of the DoD’s six joint combatant commands with an area of operation that stretches from Pearl Harbor west to the Arabian Sea. This area spans thirty-six nations and half the world’s population, with seven of the ten largest military forces on earth. When the Navy says I get an Austin class LPD, I assume they have allocated the San Antonio class resources elsewhere.”
Foster turned to Vaughn, “This is a breach of contract, Cora.”
Vaughn took a deep breath and smoothed out some invisible wrinkle on her skirt. “Let’s not be too hasty throwing around words like that, Vern.” She nodded reassuringly at Captain Pruitt, “We understand that the new wartime powers act allows for some… ah… ‘flexibility’ when it comes to contractual agreements.”
“That’s above my pay grade, ma’am,” Pruitt replied tersely. “I’m here today to just review design specifications and share our performance findings.”
Foster’s scowl deepened, but he refrained from discussing contractual matters for the rest of the meeting.