“Good chute. It’s in the water,” came the voice of her sensor operator.
A moment later, they could once again hear the pinging of the torpedo as it began searching for the enemy submarine.
“Sounds like it’s acquired the target,” Victoria said as the pinging grew faster.
Then came a crunching mechanical noise that she recognized from the first day of the war, near Guam.
“Hit! It’s a hit!”
Victoria checked her position and then banked left to see if she could see the surface of the water where she expected the submarine to have been located. Sure enough, she saw a large area of whitewater and debris coming to the top of the ocean.
“Cutlass, Penguin, we have a detonation and noises of breakup.”
Her crew inside the helicopter cheered over the internal communications system. Victoria felt slightly ill. That submarine had contained men with families, she thought to herself, looking down at the floating debris. Now it was twisted steel and oil and bits of flesh. But it wasn’t the first time for her. And the sensation of guilt was duller than before.
Victoria readjusted her lip mike to her mouth. “Roger, Penguin. Our fuel state is one plus zero-zero. Going to see if Ford can take us.”
“Roger. Bravo Zulu, Cutlass.”
Soon she was in the holding pattern on the starboard side of the USS Ford. The aircraft carrier was recovering jets. Presumably ones that had just returned from attacking the Chinese fleet.
“Cutlass, Tower, expect another ten minutes in starboard-D.”
“Roger, Tower.”
Victoria was guiding her copilot to make sure they stayed in the right spot. Two fighters zoomed by overhead. F-35s. The first one broke left over the carrier, circling to land. The second kept on going for another beat, gaining separation, then followed the first.
As her helicopter’s racetrack pattern neared the carrier once again, she saw a tall gray-haired man standing on the uppermost bridge wing. He wore a khaki uniform and gripped the railings as he watched her aircraft fly by.
She couldn’t contain her smile as she realized who she was looking at. After all that had happened, she was finally seeing her father again, if only for a moment.
“Boss, are you listening up on the ASW freq still?”
She looked down at her radios and saw that she wasn’t. She had switched to tower and turned off the other channel so she could hear better.
She adjusted her switches so that she was listening to both frequencies.
“…strong contact. Classified as a Chinese submarine now bearing three-zero-zero at five miles.”
Victoria frowned. “Fetternut, who’s talking? Five miles from what?”
“Two Romeos to our north.”
Then she noticed the pair of black specks just above the northern horizon. The carrier had turned back into the wind to recover its jets and was heading to the northwest. Whereas before, they had been headed away from all other submarines, it appeared this one had just popped up much closer than the others.
“Five miles from what?”
“From Ford, I think…”
Victoria’s heart beat faster. She turned towards the Ford. The last of the F-35s had just touched down on the flight deck. She could see her father on the bridge wing, still looking up at her helicopter as she made her closest point of approach. He knew it was her, she realized. That was why he’d come out here.
Then she saw the smoke on the horizon.
“…missile launch! Missile—”
Victoria followed the smoke trail from the area where the helicopters were located. It disappeared in the sun for a moment. Then the missile’s smoke trail reappeared as it gained speed and approached the carrier, rocketing into the superstructure of the USS Ford and exploding in a haze of fire and shrapnel, and then her father was gone forever.
30
Victoria walked out of the dark hangar, holding her thermos of tea and squinting in the bright Hawaii sunlight. From the flight deck, she watched as the USS Farragut sailors worked to fasten the lines to the pier at Pearl Harbor.
A whistle sounded over the 1MC. “Moored! Shift colors!” A pair of sailors near the ship’s stern raised the American flag. Simultaneously, the American flag was lowered from the ship’s mast. A modern US Navy Jack, with its thirteen red and white stripes, rattlesnake, and the motto “Don’t Tread on Me,” was raised on the bow.
“Morning, Boss.” A delicate tone.
Victoria turned to see her helicopter detachment’s maintenance officer, Spike, standing at the hangar’s entrance.
“Good morning.” Her voice was subdued.
She walked slowly towards the flight deck nets as her maintenance officer updated her on the plan of the day. The USS Farragut would be taking on fuel, food, and stores. Gunner’s mates were already gathered pierside, ready to start replenishing the vertical launch system’s empty missile cells. A part of her wondered what good that would do, considering the Chinese antiair technology. The ship would also undergo expedited repairs to the hull and engineering spaces, and any other areas that had been damaged by the Chinese antiship missile.
She said, “Have we started the phase maintenance?”
“Yes, ma’am. Senior got ’em started on the night shift. So far we’re only missing two parts, which we should get today. I’ve told OPS that we will need to do rotor turns while in port, if we’re here more than two days.”
“We will be.”
“Okay. Well, I’m trying to get as much done as possible so that when we get underway, we’ll just have a quick maintenance flight and be good to go.”
Victoria nodded, looking at the dozens of workers waiting on the pier. Two gangways were being set up forward. Some of the contractors were pointing at the hole in the hull where the missile had struck, shaking their heads, their eyes full of incredulity.
“There’s going to be a liberty call, the XO told me. Probably won’t be until tonight, but they’re going to let everyone blow off some steam. Once they call liberty, I’m going to let the guys off in shifts. Everyone could use a break, but the maintenance still needs to get done. And honestly, there’s less risk of any horseplay if we send them off in smaller groups.”
Victoria said, “On-base liberty only, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s from PACFLEET. Nobody’s allowed off base. No overnights. The guys will have to get drunk at the E-club.”
She looked up at that. “Make sure we’re being smart and looking out for each other. I know everyone needs to let off steam, but I don’t want someone in jail or injured. This isn’t just about some readiness score anymore. We need each and every one of our men. Somebody goes down, that hurts our ability to fight.”
“Yes, Boss.” Spike scribbled something on his clipboard and departed back into the hangar.
She walked to the other side of the flight deck and looked out over the marina. Across the water, the USS Ford towered over the pier it was tied up to. Cranes moved supplies and parts from shore to the flight deck. Most of the jets and helicopters had been stuffed in the hangar. Hundreds of repairmen worked feverishly to get the carrier back into shape. Scaffolding and tarps had been set up around the superstructure. A floating city under repair.
The whole harbor was under repair, Victoria realized. Dozens of other ships with welders and hammers and needle guns and cleaning, rearming, resupplying. C-5 and C-17 transport aircraft flew in overhead, bringing in more people and parts crucial to the endeavor. Commercial aircraft flew in the opposite direction, taking civilians back to the continental US.