The adjutant was stunned. "General—"
"Do it."
Missiles were loaded, radar activated.
Fire control locked on, thirty seconds.
The Turkish Fleet didn't move.
Thirty seconds passed.
Still no movement.
Morales picked up the binoculars, looking in the direction of the Turkish Fleet. The 'Sakarya' was still there, its bow facing west, its gun aimed at the Mexican Fleet. But their planes were still taking off, still heading towards Aleppo.
"General, the Turks have signaled."
Morales took the headset. The voice on the other end was that of a Turkish Navy Major General, less hard but still very cold.
