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Chapter 1
Carrier Onboard Delivery
Miles Edgeworth put on the cranial they'd given him, following the instructions of the Second Class Petty Officer Air Crewman leading him and the other passengers in instructions. This flight was going to be packed.
He'd arrived in Naples only a few hours ago and was still groggy from a long flight on the rotator from Norfolk. It felt like he'd been traveling for weeks, even though he'd only left less than twenty-four hours ago.
This wasn't his first time overseas—Miles had spent more than ten years of his life in Germany—but this was his first time underway. He hadn't even landed yet and he was already ready to go back.
The Air Crewman was now explaining what they would do should they have to bail out over water. She showed them every strap on their life vests and what to pull to inflate it, to turn on the rescue beacon… Miles wanted to board that funny little plane less and less as she went on.
"Make sure you wait until you get out of the plane before activating your floatation device," she said, "you don't want to get stuck in the fuselage while she's in the water."
If that plane crashes into the ocean, we'll all drown, Miles thought. These vests are only a safety blanket. He was starting to sweat in his cranial. Or maybe it was the heat.
They'd sat in the over-crowded terminal for nearly four hours. Apparently the next leg on the rotator had been delayed. Those of them headed to the Aircraft Carrier, Miles included, were eventually picked up by the ship's beach det and brought to the military airfield to catch the COD to the ship.
It was pretty hot. Miles stared at the asphalt beneath his feet wishing he could sit. One of the other men in the group was on his cell phone talking to his wife or girlfriend or whatever. You'd think he was headed to a warzone and not one of the Navy's state of the art Supercarriers—the way he was simpering to her, or him, or whatever. The concrete of the airstrip glittered over bright in the sun and after a glance in that direction Miles was dazzled by the glare and forced to close his eyes and point his head toward the ground.
"Hey Miles," the girl said, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he shook his head and blinked, "I just did something stupid."
He smiled sheepishly at her. She'd told him her name was Kay, after he'd introduced himself as Miles. They'd met in Norfolk while waiting for the flight that brought them to Naples. They sat together on the flight as well—neither of them knew anyone else—and Miles had found her pleasant to talk to. Except when the plane stopped in the Azores to refuel. That's when she'd admitted to him that she was a seaman just leaving 'A' school and headed to her first duty station.
Her situation was not quite so different than his—except he'd left the Naval Justice School as a Lieutenant Junior Grade. In the few short years he'd been a Naval Officer, it had already been properly impressed upon him that Lieutenants don't make friends with seamen.
But he was only talking to her, right? It didn't mean anything, right? What if someone was watching them?
Miles rubbed his eyes and tapped his foot while the wait dragged on.
"Hurry up and wait, right?" Kay said, "That's what the Navy is all about."
Miles smiled lightly at that and bit the inside of his lip—he certainly wasn't going to encourage her.
"Okay everyone line up," the Air Crewman clapped her hands at the group and then pointed at him, "Are you Lieutenant Edgeworth?"
Miles nodded, surprised that he was being called out.
"Sir, I need you to get to the back of the line."
Miles complied just catching Kay's reaction at learning that her newfound friend was an officer. She looked a little angry and utterly disappointed.
The group was led single file to the ugly little plane. Both props whirred and the last of their luggage was being loaded and secured. Miles watched the other Air Crewman toss bags of mail and boxes haphazardly into the hold. It was a little disconcerting to watch.
They entered the plane from the back, walking up a ramp under the tail and filling the forward-most seats first until they reached the very aft of the plane. The seats faced the tail though and Miles ended up sitting in the very front (or back) with the ramp gaping in front of him.
They didn't have to wait long for the Air Crewmen to finish their checks and join the passengers in the seating area. Miles frowned at the ramp as it was raised, the mechanism for raising and lowering it was somewhere near the bulkhead he was sitting beside and it was terribly loud.
The plane itself was loud in every way. Military planes did not have soundproofing material on the bulkheads and the cabin was not pressurized. The only saving grace on this flight was the fact that they would taxi and take off like a normal plane, and not be catapulted like they would've been off of the carrier.
Despite the heat, then the sudden and severe cold, then the heat again; and the loudness of the plane, Miles managed to doze off. The flight was short, only about forty minutes and Miles awoke as soon as he felt the descent. Suddenly the tires hit the deck and the plane stopped. Odd. No rolling to a stop, just the bump and sudden stop. Miles let out a sigh of relief—even though the flight was not as bad as he'd expected it to be.
They filed out of the COD just as they had boarded and the plane's crew directed them to stand on the flight deck in a group not far from the plane, but near enough to be identified as the newly arriving passengers. No one was allowed to remove their cranial. One by one their luggage was passed along a chain of people until each piece reached its owner. It was actually very efficient, Miles thought as he watched, doing his part when he needed to. When his seabag got to him he slid it onto his back as quickly as he could so as not to disrupt the chain.
The same female Air Crewman led them away from the COD and across the flight deck. Miles noted with much apprehension how the ocean seemed to sit right there—so close to where they were walking. The flight deck itself was awash in activity, with personnel in yellow or green vests directing planes and helicopters. They passed through an area with several sailors wearing red shirts and vests. Miles noted anxiously that they were also passing through stacks of missiles and other ordinance.
When they reached the catwalk at the edge of the flight deck, Miles caught himself holding his breath. The ocean was gray and churning and he'd never seen it so close—not like this. This wasn't like standing on a beach or a pier—this was the open sea. They made their way along the metal floors of the catwalk and down several rickety stairs. He could see the ocean beneath their feet, at least seventy feet below. He kept his hands on the guide rails squeezing much harder than he had to.
Once they entered the small heavy hatch that served as the door into the ship, the line of people followed along a narrow corridor and into a small waiting area with the letters ATO stenciled on the metal hatch. Miles looked around nervously—he was going to get lost in this metal behemoth—already the size of it was overwhelming.
"Mister Edgeworth?"
Miles was relieved to hear his name without having to wait too long. He pulled off the cranial and shook the Chief's hand.
"MAC Gumshoe," the big Chief said, "Your sponsor couldn't make it, but since we're in the same department, I thought I could at least get you out of ATO."
"I'm grateful Chief," Miles said. He had to take off his seabag to remove the life preserver. The cranial and the vest were handed back to the Air Crewman and Miles picked up his seabag.
"I'll take that for you, sir," Gumshoe said and grabbed it away from Miles before he could answer. Chief led him out of the ATO space and back into the corridor. Miles saw most of the others he'd flown in with waiting in the passageway. Kay was among them, sitting on her own seabag. She frowned slightly at him as he passed.
They exited through another hatch into a wider longer corridor filled with people. There were several rooms off of the corridor, most of them decorated with command symbols for varying squadrons of varying aircraft.
"Make a hole!"
The shout came from up ahead and Gumshoe and the other personnel in the passage moved close against the wall. Except for Miles, who was thoroughly confused. He barely had time to register the sudden change in momentum when several men in green flight suits carrying backpacks or helmet bags pushed through the corridor heading in the direction from which Miles and Gumshoe had just come. The third guy in the group slammed right into Miles.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" The guy said, but he had a hand on Miles' arm to steady him. Miles was startled, but he had a good look at the uniform and was dismayed to see it was a pilot. Miles was still staring at the gold wings etched into the leather patch on the left side of his flight suit—the name underneath read: LT. Wright.
The pilot shoved Miles into the bulkhead, "Chief, is this your guy?"
Gumshoe glared at him, "Yes, sir."
Wright met Miles' eye for a moment and the arrogant expression on his face softened fleetingly. Miles blinked and Wright looked at Gumshoe again.
"You need to teach him what 'Make a hole' means," Wright turned to follow the other pilots, "and tell him to put on a uniform—this ain't a cruise ship."
Miles stared after the pilot, watching his garishly spiked hair disappear among the crowd. That was him. He'd been onboard less than ten minutes and he'd already run into—didn't he recognize me? Miles was frowning at the now vacant corridor and jerked in surprise when Gumshoe grabbed his arm, "we're almost out of here."
They continued forward—well, Miles had no idea what direction they were headed—until they reached the end of the corridor and Gumshoe opened a hatch to the right and they entered into a gloriously empty passage. Miles leaned against the bulkhead and rubbed his face while Gumshoe secured the hatch.
"Come on," Chief said, "Most of the Staff work down here. I'm taking you to admin, you can do some check in with the division. Your sponsor is coming to get you from there when she's done with whatever she got caught up in."
"Okay," Miles said.
"Are you hungry?" Gumshoe paused and met his eye. He had a very friendly face.
"Um," Miles said—he hadn't eaten since before the rotator landed in Naples—but the COD; the noise; the encounter with that pilot… It kind of left him reeling.
"Tell you what, I'll get you a boxed nasty and you can eat it when you want to," Gumshoe grinned and slapped Miles on the shoulder, "Come on, no one likes it when you loiter in the P-ways."
The Staff Admin consisted of a makeshift office with three computers and a television on one wall. There were at least ten people sitting around. A couple of them looked up when Miles entered with the Chief.
"This is the new JAG," Chief told the woman sitting at the largest desk. She glanced at Miles once before digging into her desk to pull out some of the ubiquitous stream of forms required when doing anything in the Navy.
"Lieutenant Edgeworth?" the woman at the desk smiled curtly at him, "Do you have your orders?"
He took a moment to dig in his pockets before handing her a folded stack of papers.
"I can stamp it here," she said, "Just so we have an accurate time, but you still need to bring these down to ship's admin as well. Your sponsor will bring you down there today."
Miles nodded and took back his orders and then received another stack of papers from the woman.
"I need you to fill out the top two sheets, sir," she met his eye this time and smiled sweetly at him, "I'm YN1 May, if you need to find me for anything else."
Miles stared around at the others in the room; they were all enlisted. None of them seemed eager to make eye contact with him, so he turned back to the papers in front of him. He soon fell into focus filling out the forms, studying the other papers she'd handed to him. Someone knocked—or rather banged—on the hatch and then let himself in.
Miles didn't recognize the man, another Lieutenant, but the man grinned at Miles with a mischievous and wolfish grin.
"Is that Miles Edgeworth?"
"Yes..." Miles looked at him quizzically. The Lieutenant grinned again.
"I don't recall that we've ever met, Lieutenant…?"
"Lang," the guy grinned, "And we haven't, but your sponsor is my BFF—"
He laughed at his own words and Miles frowned at him.
"Well?" Lieutenant Lang said, suddenly serious, "Are you going to be done here soon? Or should I come back?"
Miles looked at YN1 before handing her the forms she'd asked him to fill out. He turned back to Lieutenant Lang, "I'm finished."
"Good," Lang put a hand on is shoulder and pulled him along, "Come on, I really need to get you to your rack so you can put on your uniform—that little bow-tie is just too…"
"What's wrong with my—"
"Just—! Don't ask too many questions and try to keep up," Lang said.
He turned down another corridor and opened the hatch to reveal a ladder well going down several levels. Lang gave him a dark look and grinned at Miles before taking the ladder in front of them. He grabbed the rails and lifted his legs so he could slide using only he hands. Miles' eyes widened in surprise and he started to follow the man as best he could. They weren't really stairs—they looked like stairs—but they were steep and the steps narrow.
Lang was obviously much practiced and very comfortable with these ladders. Miles managed to keep up reasonably well for three levels, at the fourth level down he slipped and fell backward tumbling down the rest of the way on his seabag. He knocked his elbows and knees as he went and he was certain he was going to have bruises from this. Lang only paused a moment and laughed at him.
When they arrived in berthing, Miles was relieved to find the corridor wide and clean. The officers living in each stateroom had their names on the doors. The heads were labeled "male" and "females only". Miles wondered if that implied women could use the male heads as well.
Lang stopped at one of the stateroom doors. Miles felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up when he saw his name written as LT. EDGEWORTH/JAG right underneath LT. LANG/OEM DIVO. Lang opened the room and pulled Miles inside.
"What do you think?" He spread his arms and grinned at Miles. There were two racks stacked one atop the other and a few locker spaces and desk built into the bulkhead. Based on a few small photos taped to the wall, Lang had already claimed the bottom rack. Miles frowned at the pipes and lagging above the top rack.
"We're going to share a stateroom?"
"You're not special," Lang glowered at him, "You don't get your own room."
Miles frowned at him and set down his bag. He knelt beside it to dig for his uniform, and pulled one set of NWUs out secured in a packing cube and then dug out his boots. Lang was watching him intently.
"Wow," Lang said, "You're the only person I've ever met that managed to organize a seabag."
Miles pulled out another cube full of blue tee shirts and got out one neatly rolled shirt. He put whatever he didn't need back in his bag and then picked up his bundled uniform items.
"I don't suppose I might shower first?"
"What? We don't have time—you can do that later," Lang said.
Miles frowned, "Fine."
He started to unbutton the shirt he was wearing. Lang was staring at him nonchalant in the small space of their room. Miles paused.
"Um," he said, "Would you be so kind?"
Lang shrugged at him.
"Please step out so I—"
"Really?" Lang grinned at him, "Are you embarrassed, pretty boy? Or just shy?"
"I'm—"
"Just hurry up and stop stalling," Lang turned to the wall at least, "You should be used to this by now."
"Um no," Miles said, "I wasn't aware that I'd left civilization."
"Really Edgeworth? How on earth did you survive the Academy?"
"I didn't go to the Academy."
"OCS?"
"I was a Direct Appointment. I only went to ODS."
Lang sniggered, "That explains so much—do yourself a favor and keep that on the hush hush."
Miles did his best to dress quickly glancing toward Lang every now and again to make sure he was still looking away.
"Well," Lang said, "Lawyer Boy, how long were you practicing before you decided to 'Go Navy'?"
"Long enough," Miles bent to put on his boots and lace them up, "I'm not sure how I feel about prescribed haircuts, but I know my way around the courtroom."
Lang laughed aloud and looked at Miles, "And you're cocky about it… I think we'll get along just fine, Lawyer Boy."
Miles finished blousing his pants and then stood grabbing his blouse off of his rack. Lang looked him up and down and grinned.
"You almost look like the real thing," He laughed.
Miles smirked at him, "Almost?"
"Come on," Lang said and opened the door, "I'll take you to the mess—you look like you need a sandwich."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Miles followed Lang into the p-way and they turned toward the Wardroom Mess.
Lang just laughed at him.
"I can't help it if this Aquaflage is unflattering," Miles said as he slid on his blouse and buttoned it.
Lang led him back to the ladder well, this time running up the ladders. Miles must've hit his shin on every other step and his knee on the ones he'd missed with his shins. When they reached the O-3 level Lang paused to wait for Miles. Miles got to the top of the ladder and paused to catch his breath—his eyes watered a little from the pain of banging his legs on the metal steps.
The mess was nearly deserted as it had already been secured from lunch. Lang pushed Miles into a chair and went to the galley to bother one of the CS's working there.
Several moments later he returned with two white boxes made of thin cardboard. He set them on the table in front of Miles and sat down.
Miles stared at him, unsure of what to do. Lang grinned and started digging into one of the boxes. He pulled out a cellophane wrapped sandwich and a mealy little apple. Miles continued to stare. Lang paused and shoved the other box toward him.
"Come on, eat," Lang said, "I have to get you to Cali and then I've got to get back to my shop."
Miles examined the contents of his bag with a frown and pulled out his sandwich, "You mean Lieutenant Yew?"
Lang chuckled at him, his cheek bulging with sandwich.
"She's going to love you," Lang said, "You're even better than we could've guessed from your e-mails."
Miles frowned at him and ate his lunch.
Lang took the ladders at a much more reasonable pace—either he felt sorry for Miles or he'd only rushed earlier to show off to the new guy. The Flag Admin office was located in an area set apart by blue tiling. There were curtains in some areas to prevent enlisted below E-7 from entering those passages.
The space was wide and open—rare on a ship, but it was crowded with desks, supplies, and what seemed like industrial odds and ends.
Lieutenant Calisto Yew, had been assigned as Miles' sponsor almost three months ago. They'd been corresponding via e-mail during that time, but Miles hadn't known what to expect. Evidently, she hadn't either—her stare was locked onto him so hard he started to feel like hiding.
"Miles Edgeworth," she said. It was neither a question nor a greeting. In fact, her voice was so flat Miles didn't know what to say.
Eventually he settled for, "Calisto Yew."
Lang looked from Miles to Yew and grinned, "Shi-long Lang."
Lieutenant Yew cleared her throat, "Welcome aboard Edgeworth, we are pleased to have you. You're the first JAG we've had on board since our first deployment."
Miles raised an eyebrow. Yew looked at Lang.
"I'll see you tonight?" she said.
"Yeah, I have to get going," Lang winked at Miles and left.
"So," she was still staring hard at him, "What do you think so far?"
"I don't know how I'll get all the way back to berthing," Miles said, "In fact I have no idea where I am right now."
She stared at him blankly for several long moments then she let out a funny snort. She had to cover her mouth and turn away from him slightly as she sank into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Miles stared at her and raised an eyebrow.
"Lieutenant Yew?"
A/N: Thanks for Reading! Hope this AU isn't too weird.
Hello again! Thought I was gone for good didja? Ah well, I can make reasonable excuses, but that's not what you're here for. I've reread and am currently revising this story and Turnabout Honeymoon as well as finishing the final installments. ON WITH THE UPDATES!
Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and all characters are copyright by CAPCOM; I'm just a fan imitating. The stories presented are influenced by the multiple games as well as the comic (Manga written by Kenji Kuroda).
This story is set in a military AU. It is not intended as a commentary on the US Navy, nor is the US Navy affiliated with this IN ANY WAY. Come on, you know you've always wanted to see AA:JAG… Aside from the use of 'Judge Advocate General' this story has nothing to do with JAG the TV show. Otherwise it would've been a crossover.