Pressure in the aircraft had never gotten to Victoria. But the pressure of command — and the feeling of helplessness that accompanied it — was the hardest obstacle she had yet faced.
Thank God she had her own stateroom with a satellite phone — and her mother’s calming voice. She kept the calls very short, never completely sure that there wasn’t some crewmember in the communications office listening in. Victoria’s mom was her only confidant. Her mom knew the Navy, having been a Navy wife for several decades. And she knew Victoria, and the amount of pressure she placed on herself. He mother calmed her down, restored her self-confidence, and acted as the sounding board she knew her daughter needed. Thank God for her.
Now, walking to the captain’s cabin, Victoria took a deep breath. She could get through this.
“Air Boss?” The chaplain poked his head out of the wardroom door. “May I speak with you a moment?”
“I’m sorry, Chaps. I need to run up to the captain’s cabin. Can it wait?”
He looked apprehensive. “Yes. Sure. But please come find me when you’re finished there.”
She was curious, but simply said, “Will do. Sorry.”
Victoria climbed up a ladder and kept walking down the passageway, swaying with the waves. She wondered if her father was feeling these seas on his carrier.
Admiral Arthur Louis Manning IV, the commander of the Harry S. Truman Strike Group, was about two hundred miles from her right now, she knew. This was the first, and likely the only, time they had been in the same area while acting in their official capacity in the Navy.
He was on one of the two carriers that were out here. His carrier was not supposed to be in charge of Victoria’s ship. However, due to the hurricane, with the ships being sortied into irregular groups, Admiral Manning actually had tactical control of her ship for the next week. Her mother would get a kick out of that.
Victoria knocked on the door to the captain’s cabin. “Sir, permission to enter?”
The captain opened the door and waved her in. He was on a phone.
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I’m about to discuss it with my helicopter officer in charge. I’ll get back to you in five.” He hung up the phone, then picked up another and said, “TAO, this is the captain. How far away is the Porter? Alright, let’s make best speed there now. No, hold off on calling flight quarters.” He hung up the phone.
“What’s going on, sir?”
The captain stood up. “I understand that your aircraft is having maintenance issues. But I need a no-shit best effort here, Air Boss. The USS James E. Williams just had their helicopters go down. Since the fleet is so spread out, we’re the only ship that has a helicopter in range.”
Her face went white. “Down, sir? Should we go into the CIC? Look at the tactical picture? I can—” CIC was the Combat Information Center. Also known as Combat, it was the central command and control space on the ship.
“Now, hold on. The admiral read our ship’s daily status report and knows that your helicopter is not flyable due to maintenance problems. He only wants you to launch if you have those issues fixed. He was very clear on that point.” The captain looked uncomfortable. “And he said he wants to speak with you directly about it as soon as you’re available.”
Victoria went over the scenario in her mind. By the book, it was an absolute no. There was no way she should allow her aircraft to fly with an AFCS computer that hadn’t passed a maintenance check flight. Especially at night, over water, and in horrendous weather.
But she knew those pilots. The helicopter detachment on the USS James E. Williams were from her own squadron. Those were her brothers in arms. They would do anything for her, and she needed to push herself, her men, and her aircraft to their absolute limit if at all possible.
She said, “Sir, I think I can do it. I’ll fly it.”
The captain nodded. “Alright. I’ll let you explain it to the admiral. We’re supposed to call him back in five minutes.”
The operations officer knocked on the door and entered. “Sir, you asked for an update?”
“Yes, what is it, OPS?”
“Sir, the suspected crash site is about ninety miles to our north. We’ve confirmed with Strike Group that we’re the only ship with an air asset that would be able to get there in time. But we would need to launch soon, sir. With the water temperature and heavy seas, the SAR planners say we need to get there quick to give them a chance of survival.”
The captain waved OPS away. “Very well.” He picked up the phone and pressed a button, connecting them by satellite to the aircraft carrier.
As the captain waited to be connected, Victoria cursed herself. Who was she kidding? The winds were out of limits. The seas were out of limits. She didn’t know if the AFCS would work. She would be risking the lives of whoever she took with her.
“Yes, sir. My air boss says that her aircraft is flyable, sir. Excuse me, Admiral?”
Victoria just realized something. She had assumed that the captain referred to the admiral on the IKE. But now that they were under the Truman Strike Group’s control… God, was that her father on the line?
“Uh, yes, sir. Here she is.” The captain looked torn as he handed her the phone.
Her father’s voice was garbled. “Lieutenant Commander Manning, good evening.”
Her face was turning redder by the minute. The captain watched her. “Yes, sir?”
“The captain tells me that you want to do the search and rescue, is that true?”
Her father had used her rank when he’d addressed her. He was speaking to her in his official capacity. She was dizzy. Was he second-guessing her? He was an aviator. Not a pilot, but a Naval flight officer. It didn’t matter. He knew how it worked. He understood how strict the Navy was with its aviation safety protocol.
“Sir, our helicopter had a bad AFCS computer. We just replaced it with a good one. Technically we’re supposed to test it before we fly. But in this situation, I’m willing to accept the risk.”
Silence.
Finally, he said, “So you are saying you do not have a good aircraft?”
Victoria said, “Sir, that’s correct. But in this situation—”
“This is a yes-or-no question. Is your aircraft maintenance up or down?”
She hesitated. “Sir, technically it is down, but I request that you waive—”
“No, Commander. I do not give my consent. You stay where you are.”
A wave of fear washed over her as she realized what that would likely mean for the aircrew. If they were alive, she was their only hope of rescue. If her father didn’t let her take off…
“Admiral, with all due respect, I can handle this. I would be flying the aircraft during a maintenance flight tomorrow anyway. What’s the difference? People’s lives are at stake. Please, sir. Allow me to launch.”
A pause. “Commander, I don’t want to lose these men, but there are limits to how much loss… how much risk is acceptable.” His voice was emotional. A higher pitch than normal. A part of her brain couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t like her father. It was… inappropriate. He needed to weigh the two sides impartially, and he wasn’t doing that. He was making this call because it was her, not because it was the right call.
“Sir, are you ordering me not to go?”
“That’s correct.” She heard a click as the line went dead. Her mouth was agape.
She said, “He said no. We are not allowed to launch.”
The captain looked at her like she had leprosy and he might catch it. He took the phone and hung it up.
They both stood there a moment, swaying with the heavy seas. “That will be all, Commander,” the captain said, disappointment in his tone.