Chase glanced at his brother. “Did it say anything?”
“No. She’s still missing.”
“They won’t find her. Not if she doesn’t want to be found.”
Susan walked over to David’s desk. “Good morning, Mannings. Congratulations again on saving the world.”
Victoria felt good getting back into the cockpit again. It had only been eight days since she had last flown, but that was too long for someone like her.
She aimed her aircraft straight at the giant grey floating city on the horizon. She could see two helicopters in orbit on the starboard side of the carrier. They were in between cycles, she knew. The brief window for helicopters to take off, land, and refuel before the jets needed the flight deck.
She adjusted her lip mike and checked that she had the right frequency before she made her call.
“Tower, Cutlass 471 is five miles on your 170, inbound for pax drop-off.”
“Roger, 471, we got ya,” came the full southern accent on the other end. She presumed that it was the air boss on the carrier. He would be a Navy commander, most likely a jet pilot. His job was to oversee every aspect of active flight operations on the carrier’s flight deck and close-in airspace.
She checked her airspeed. One hundred and twenty knots. “Coming down to two hundred feet.”
“Roger, two hundred feet,” replied Juan.
He had a renewed confidence in his tone — and why not? In the last week, he had gotten more actual over-water SAR rescues than any Navy helicopter pilot she’d ever met. He’d also sunk a nuclear submarine in combat.
He was a little upset by that, he had confided to her. She would need to pay attention there. There was no glory in killing, she had told him. But there was honor and justice in protecting others. He had done the right thing.
The external radio circuit came on with the tower voice again. “Cutlass 471, Charlie spot three — you’re cleared to land on spot three. Just follow the wands, Princess.”
“471, Charlie spot three.” Well, she guessed everyone knew she was coming. She shouldn’t be surprised that he used her call sign, Princess.
Victoria also noticed that he gave her extra instruction since she wasn’t one of the helicopters based on his carrier.
Helicopters from single-spot ships that weren’t used to operating around aircraft carriers were like rural persons who found themselves driving through New York City. It was a busy, shocking atmosphere, and there was little room for error. The air bosses on the carriers usually didn’t have any tolerance for helicopters that weren’t familiar with their procedures. But most helicopters weren’t piloted by their boss’s boss’s boss’s daughter.
They landed on the carrier’s flight deck, and two flight deck personnel wearing yellow shirts and head gear came running in from each side to tie the aircraft down with chocks and chains.
Victoria said, “Unstrapping. You have controls.”
“I have the controls,” Juan echoed.
She got out of the helicopter and followed one of the white shirts over the carrier’s expansive flight deck. Everyone who worked on the flight deck wore different color shirts and helmets, which denoted their job type. White shirts were part of the air transfer officer’s unit, responsible for logistics flights and passenger transfers.
She was always surprised by how large and stable the carriers were. She could barely tell they were at sea. It was just flat, huge, and motionless. Compared to one of the small destroyers that she landed on, it was like landing on a real airport on land.
They entered the superstructure door and she took off her helmet, holding it by the sweaty chinstrap as they climbed up the stairs.
“If you’ll follow me, ma’am, I’ll take you to see your fath — um… the admiral.”
Victoria smiled. “Thank you.”
Her legs were cramping by the time they reached the admiral’s bridge, nine flights of stairs up from the flight deck. The white shirt opened the door, and Victoria saw her father for the first time in a long time.
The admiral’s bridge was an expansive room with shiny blue laminate floors. Bright daylight shined in through the Plexiglas windows that wrapped around on three sides of the room. Almost no furniture, save a few treadmills and an admiral’s chair.
The admiral was surrounded by a small group of men. The admiral and a Navy captain next to him both wore khaki flight suits. The captain’s name tag just said “CAG.” Victoria knew that to mean Commander, Air Group. He was the head of all aviation units on the ship. A commander wearing a khaki uniform stood next to them. He had on a SWO pin. Victoria surmised that this would be the replacement for the USS Farragut’s late ship captain. A submariner lieutenant stood a few feet behind the group.
“Gentlemen, please excuse us,” Admiral Manning said quietly.
The group of officers thanked the admiral, and nodded in respect to Victoria as they walked out of the room.
Victoria’s face was like a stone, save a lone tear that streaked down her cheek.
Seeing the tear, her father pulled her close, embracing her. They didn’t speak for nearly thirty seconds. The only sound was her sniffles.
When they separated, he held her shoulders, looked at her in the eyes and said, “I’m so very proud of you.”
She gave quick nods, regaining her composure but not yet trusting herself to speak. She wiped away a few more tears, smiling and embarrassed.
“You saw the commander who just left. He’ll be your new ship captain for now, until Big Navy can tell us what the long-term plan is.”
“Alright. Thanks.” A part of her was disappointed that her brief tenure as a ship captain was over. Another part of her was relieved. She might finally be able to get more than two hours of sleep without getting an emergency phone call.
They spoke about nothing for a few moments. He asked about the flight over. About the performance of her crew and helicopter detachment over the past week. She didn’t tell him that Chase had been the one she’d flown off the ship. She would, eventually — if he didn’t find out on his own first. But now didn’t seem like the right time.
She looked at her digital watch. “I should probably get going. The cycle will be starting up again, right?”
Her father nodded. “I could always tell them to go land somewhere else. My daughter’s visiting.”
She laughed. Then she looked serious. “I love you, Dad.”
They embraced one last time, and he said, “I love you, too.”
She left and found the white shirt and the SWO commander waiting outside the room for her.
As the group marched down the stairs, Victoria felt an incredible satisfaction. She had been faced with the ultimate test of a military officer. She had lead men in combat, and proven herself up to the task. And the pride in her father’s eyes told her that she had served with honor.
About the Author
Andrew Watts graduated from the US Naval Academy in 2003 and served as a naval officer and helicopter pilot until 2013. During that time, he flew counter-narcotic missions in the Eastern Pacific and counter-piracy missions off the Horn of Africa. He was a flight instructor in Pensacola, FL, and helped to run ship and flight operations while embarked on a nuclear aircraft carrier deployed in the Middle East.
Today, he lives with his family in Ohio.
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