AWR1 Fetternut was laughing.
Juan looked over at Plug and could see him smiling underneath his NVGs. “Oh, I get it. Because Bobby was CIA. Funny.” He let out a howl. “Alright, 2P, find me this boat. It’s the only thing out here tonight.”
Juan placed his hands on the control unit for the forward-looking infrared camera — the FLIR, as it was known. He pressed a few buttons and his display began to show the camera image.
The screen showed a green sea with a flat horizon and a few clouds. Juan used his thumb to turn the camera. “What’s the bearing?”
“Should be about ten degrees right of where you’re pointing it, sir.”
“Okay. I think I see it.”
A little white dot on the horizon of the screen was the only disruption to an otherwise symmetrical view.
Plug said, “How far from Mom are we?”
“Close to seventy miles from Farragut.”
“Okay, let’s check in with them. Let them know we might lose comms for a moment.”
Juan checked his communications selector switch to make sure it was on the right frequency. Then he depressed the footswitch that allowed him to speak on the UHF radio. “Farragut control, Cutlass 471.”
“471, Control.”
“471 is investigating a surface contact seventy miles to your north. We might lose comms for a moment, but we should be back up in five mikes.”
“Copy, 471.”
Plug said, “Coming down to two hundred feet.”
“Roger, leaving one thousand for two hundred.”
“One thousand for two hundred.”
Juan’s eyes bounced from location to location as he scanned his various sources of information. He looked outside through his night vision goggles to see if there were any other air or surface contacts in the area. Nothing. Then he checked his instruments to monitor Plug’s descent to two hundred feet over the water. It was crucial that everyone in the aircraft checked this. While it was a simple maneuver, being so low to the ocean could be deadly if the pilot became distracted and continued descending through his altitude. He checked the radar altimeter, the barometric altimeter, and the VSI.
Then, as they got close to their level-off altitude, he said, “Fifty feet prior.”
“Roger.” The altitude stopped on 200. “Two hundred feet, radalt on.”
“Roger, two hundred feet.” Juan glanced at the radar altimeter, the autopilot feature that served as the most precise altitude hold.
“Looks like a trawler or something.”
“Yup,” Plug said. “I’m going to circle it on the right.”
“Roger.”
Juan could feel them banking left and then coming back over to the right, making a wide arc around the boat. He manipulated the FLIR to keep the camera focused and locked on to the boat the entire time.
“What do you think? Fishing boat or drug trafficker?”
“We got any intel about drug boats out here?”
“No.”
“I don’t see anybody moving on deck.”
“Me neither. Can you get a name?”
“Nah. Can’t see it on her. Too dark.”
“She doesn’t look like she’s making way.”
Fetternut said, “Yeah, I show her at one knot on radar, sir. So she might actually be dead in the water.”
Juan zoomed in and focused the camera. “Is that someone laying down on the back of the ship?”
Plug snuck a look at the screen underneath his goggles. “Looks like it. He moving?”
“No.”
“He alive?”
“I don’t know. This is creepy.”
“Let’s come up and show Mom.”
“Roger.”
“Coming up to two grand.”
“Roger, two thousand feet.”
Juan felt a flutter in his stomach and watched the numbers on his instrument panel rapidly begin rising as Plug pulled power and climbed. Now that they were higher, it would be easier to establish a communications link with their faraway destroyer.
“Farragut control, 471. We have video on the surface contact out here. Looks like a fishing boat, a trawler. But she’s not making way, and we have one… uh, person… laying on the back of the deck. They aren’t moving.”
The Farragut’s air controller said, “Roger, 471, we’re getting it on link now.”
“Okay, they want us to do anything?”
“Stand by.”
Juan said, “I mean, we’re quite a ways from land. Kind of weird for a ship to just be hanging out around here, right?” The fishing arms weren’t down, either.
Fetternut said, “They didn’t look like they was fishing.”
The Farragut’s air controller said, “We have video and took some screenshots. We’re passing it up the chain to see if they want us to go check it out.”
“Roger, control. We’ll need to head back soon if we’re going to make our landing time. Let us know if you want us to loiter here or not.”
“Stand by.” After a minute, he said, “Negative. TAO says to come back and land on time.”
“Roger.”
Juan said, “Don’t they care about this? I mean, what if that’s a dead body down there?”
“If it is,” Plug said, “it isn’t going anywhere.”
They flew back to the ship without incident. During the debrief for the flight, Juan checked with the folks on watch in the combat information center. They had been told to investigate the fishing ship in the morning.
Victoria had been up since dawn. She had worked out while her men were conducting the freshwater wash-down of the helicopter on the flight deck. Thick sponges and a light soap to get all the salt off. It helped prevent corrosion. The deck was wet with small pockets of soap bubbles every few feet.
She sipped coffee from a metal thermos. “Morning, Senior.”
“Morning, ma’am.”
“You guys gonna tear it apart today?”
“Yup. We’ll start the phase maintenance inspection today. And because I know you’re gonna ask, we hope to be done in seven days or so, as long as you guys can get the rotor turns done quick.”
Victoria smiled at the seasoned senior enlisted. “Don’t worry, your esteemed maintenance officer has already been lowering my expectations on the timing.”
The senior chief smiled. “He’s learning.” He placed his hands on his hips and yelled something at one of the enlisted men washing the helicopter. Then he said, “You hear any rumors about them giving us another bird from Ford?”
“I inquired about it. But I don’t think it’s gonna happen. Ford’s compliment of helicopters is light as it is. They were in a rush to get out here, apparently.”
He nodded. “Hmm. What about any rumors on when we might be headed back? It’ll be six months tomorrow.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Everyone’s spooked right now, though. No one wants to lower our Navy presence in the area. I mean, can you believe that we’re out here right now, after taking hits?”
“Ma’am, I don’t know what to believe anymore. This is all crazy. I heard that the Chinese ships were pulling into Panama City.”
“Oh, so you’re the one that Plug got it from.”
“Chief’s mess knows all, Boss.” The seasoned Navy veteran nodded, a wide grin on his face.
A whistle went off through the ship’s 1MC speaker system, signifying that it was 7 a.m. Morning meal had started. “Alright, that’s my cue.”
“You have yourself one of them good ones, Boss.”
“You too, Senior. And stop telling the MO your secret rumors.”
The senior chief laughed as Victoria made her way through the starboard hangar. She walked along the busy passageway, the smell of a mass-produced breakfast wafting through the air from belowdecks. The officers and crew were rushing through the passageway. Some had wet hair, just out of the shower. Some had red eyes, just off the midnight-watch rotation. Everything they did was on the clock. They hurried to eat, hurried to prep for their morning meetings, and hurried to go on watch. The packed schedule made the time go by faster. The repetition sharpened their skills.