changes that had occurred, another entirely for her to trash out her
fellow officers in front of the admiral. If Mrs.-Admiral
Commander Flynn/Magruder wanted to get along with this staff, she’d
better learn to fit in.
“We have two VFA F/A-18s on Alert 15, Admiral,” the TAO continued.
“The Marine pilots are in their Ready Room.”
“They don’t do me much good there, do they? Come on, man, let’s get
moving.” Batman turned back to Tomboy.
“Not so long ago, it would have been you and me scrambling for those
aircraft, wouldn’t it? I sure do miss it.”
“Anytime you need a backseater, Admiral, you just let me know.” The
two exchanged a look of mutual admiration.
400 Local (+5 GMT)
Flight Deck USS Jefferson
Marine Major Frederick “Thor” Hammersmith shivered lightly as he
stepped out onto the flight deck and pulled the heavy metal hatch
closed behind him. The night was warm, sultry, but the flood of
adrenaline that had hit him when the alarm rang in the Ready Room had
not yet subsided. The quick five-minute brief in TFCC had done no more
than crank it up an extra level.
Around him, the flight deck buzzed with activity. Sailors rolled out
of their racks and were now streaming across the deck, visible only in
the glare of the giant floodlights mounted on the tower. Green shirts,
red shirts, yellow shirts, each color denoting a separate function in
the intricate ballet that made up the flight deck operations.
His F/A-18 Hornet was. still parked in the center of the flight deck,
a location befitting its assignment as Alert 15 aircraft. A few
minutes to run through the checklist and power up, and he could simply
taxi straight forward to the catapult.
He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Pulling Alert 15 was a pain in the ass
during training exercises, but this was something real. A MiG-29
shooting down a civilian aircraft what in the hell was that about?
Sure, tensions between the United States and her southern neighbor had
ratcheted a notch higher since the U.S. had nationalized some of Cuba’s
American-held assets, but that had never disturbed the Navy’s
operations in its traditional training ground to the north. And why
shoot down a civilian aircraft? Bullshit, that was. Why fight
somebody who can’t fight back?
Moments later, he was standing next to his aircraft. He walked around
her carefully, checking for loose fittings and undogged compartment
access panels. He ran a hand over her nose-wheel gear, checking
carefully for any signs of looseness or excessive wear on the tires.
The Marine enlisted technicians who maintained Hornet 301 were
fanatics, but it was one thing to take responsibility for an aircraft
on the deck, another thing entirely to trust your life to it while
getting off of the pointy end of a carrier.
Finally satisfied, he stood and stretched, feeling the last vestiges of
fatigue seep away. He glanced up at the tower, already illuminated
with red light. Inside, the Air Boss and Mini Boss would be settling
into their seats, staring down at Thor and his aircraft and waiting for
the report from the steam catapult operators that all was ready. A
thin wisp of steam was already rising from the narrow gauge track in
front of him, evidence of power to the system.
Thor grinned. The Air Boss held certain misconceptions about Marine
pilots, prejudices that Thor liked to tweak at every opportunity. As
the flight deck teemed with activity around him, Thor dropped down to
the nonskid, assumed position, and whipped out a quick fifty
push-ups.
The exercise flushed the last traces of fatigue out of his body.
Invigorated, he jumped to his feet and trotted over to the port side of
the F/A-18. Clambering up the handhold and steps, he quickly settled
into the cockpit. A technician followed him up, pulled the safeties on
the ejection seat, and double-checked his harness.
“You’re good to go. Major.” The Marine Corps technician nodded
solemnly, barely visible in his bronze shirt on the moonlit deck.
“Good hunting, sir.”
Thor nodded. “Anytime, anywhere. Marine.”
0410 Local (+5 GMT) TFCC “There he goes.” Tomboy pointed at the plat
camera that showed the flight deck. Two JBDs, or jet blast deflectors,