Chp. 3: Bon Voyage

March 25, 1995

Altaria Bay, Osea

Ryan was given two hours to go home and see Mae around 1 PM that afternoon. He had a brief conversation with her prior, like many, to tell her what was going on, but otherwise he had to stay on base. Most of his time was spent doing work as the Junior Operations Officer. The Operations Officer, Buck, and he had spent much of their time prioritizing the most dangerous targets and the ones that were the most vital to the Belkan military. These were incorporated into the overall plan against Belka. One of the major plans brewing was that to secure Oured Bay. The large body of water, though snug for three carrier groups, would be a major supply route and more direct avenue of attack against Belka from the south. Furthermore, the attacks against the Atlantic carriers in port meant it needed to be secured. There was reason to believe Belkan ships were heading south, moving around near the coast of Nordlands, to reach the bay. Intel suggested the carrier Njord was possibly with them.

The F-14's role in the war was going to be somewhat specialized. Since very few F-14 units, VF-115 included, had properly gone through the training to employ even unguided bombs, the machine would most likely play the role of fighter until the end. As a secondary mission, they would employ their TARPS (Tactical Airborne Reconnaissance Pod System). Coincidentally, Ryan flew one of the two TARPS birds in the squadron. Buck had imagined they might drop bombs if the need was urgent, but the general expectation was that the wing's two F/A-18 squadrons, VFA-215 and VFA-28, and its single A-6 squadron, VA-67, would do most of the ground pounding. Ryan and him had set up in the office they shared, a map of Belka pinned to the wall. By the time his Mustang was pulling into the apartment complex's parking lot again, Ryan's mind was filled with the names of the BAF's primary fighter and interceptor bases as well as the details of its bomber fleet.

He noted the presence of a familiar 1983 Dodge Diplomat in one of the guest parking spots. The window sticker for VMFA-52 told all. He hurried up to his home to find that Nick Bridger, as well as his sister Angela, her husband Will, and their daughter Carrie had come while he was away planning war.

"You look beat, Ryan." The ex-Marine said as he approached the pilot who'd just walked in.

"You can probably imagine, sir." Ryan replied, accepting the handshake he was offered. The pilot looked around at the others. Will and Angela were on the couch, and Carrie was getting up from her seat to come and hug her uncle, or at least one of his legs.

"Uncle Ry!" She exclaimed as she embraced him. The blonde managed a smile and knelt down so the redheaded four year-old and him could talk.

"Yo Short Stuff, how's it going?" He asked.

"I didn't think I'd get to see you this weekend, but now we get to come visit you!" She replied.

"Yeah, glad you came." He smiled sadly, standing back up.

"So how long ago did you all hear about things?" He asked his father-in-law.

"Around 0800; news said the Air Force and National Guard butted heads first with em, and then they jumped Ustio before launching against us." Nick replied.

"Yeah, apparently NAS Oured Bay and Fighter Wing Atlantic got some of the worst of it. That's why I'm being called up; otherwise this would be handled by the East Coast guys." Ryan explained.

"How soon do you leave?" Angela asked from the couch, standing up as Ryan walked into the kitchen.

"Tomorrow morning; they have to get the carrier and her escorts ready. I'd also assume we aren't the only carrier leaving; most of Altaria Bay is running around trying to get its act in order." Her brother said.

"So where's Mae?" He asked. His wife had been on his mind for some time.

"She's on the balcony…she's talked with us off and on. I think she's trying to figure out what to say to you." Angela replied, lowering her voice.

"We can leave if you need." Will added. Ryan looked at the man.

"Yeah, if you don't mind…I think I need to talk to her alone. I'll call you up from the lobby when we're done." He said.

The visitors nodded, and despite Carrie's protests retreated from the abode. Ryan walked to the balcony and found Mae sitting on the single lawn chain they kept out there, dressed in shorts and a tank top. She looked up at him as he came into view.

"Hey there." He said, offering a smile. Mae pushed herself from the chair and seized him.

"Welcome home." She replied.

He immediately kissed her and sat down with her on the lawn chair. Mae curled up against him and he held her close.

"I have to leave tomorrow morning, very early…" He said. She looked up at him like he'd just announced he was going to die.

"No…no no no no no." She repeated.

"Mae…" He replied softly. She shook her head.

"You can't be going, no! I'm not agreeing to this! I'm your wife, dammit! You can't just go off and fight and expect me to wait at home quietly, sending my love!" The woman scowled.

"I don't expect you to be quiet, but I expect you to understand. You married a sailor, and you have to accept the whole package." Ryan told her.

Mae didn't say anything for several long minutes. Eventually she poked him so he'd look at her. The blonde looked down at the brunette as she pushed some of his hair back. She gave him a long kiss before she said anything.

"I'm not accepting that you're leaving, but I still love you and recognize I can't stop you…just be careful, please." Mae whispered. He nodded.

"I will." He assured.

The two spent a few more minutes together before the rest of the family was summoned back up. It was decided Mae, for her own safety, would leave with them and go further west. His sister agreed, and Mae decided it was best. Ryan would be gone either way; she would be best being in a safer place, too. Ryan found himself summoned back onto the balcony to talk to his father-in-law.

"Well sir, I'm not sure what to say." Ryan confessed.

"Are you scared, Ryan?" Nick asked. The skinnier man looked at his older counterpart. Even in his older years, the ex-Marine still kept a barrel-chested appearance to himself.

"Uncertain, sir. I can't tell exactly how this can play out in any way. I'd never thought Belka would be the country I'd fight, either." Ryan replied, straightening up. Even in the wake of the Cold War, Yuktobania or one of its proxies were considered the primaries threat.

"Good, that's close enough. I can't think of anything else to tell you, son. I wish your old man could be here to tell you something else, but the truth is you'll just be hearing the same thing over and over again: trust your training and your warrior instinct. Embrace that fear; it makes you human. Every single guy going aboard that boat is scared like you." He said.

Ryan nodded and stood up. How long had it been since a person from his family had gone to war? His dad had been the last in 1972, and he's gotten to go down with his F-4 near the Leasath border. Nick had never fought a war, only prepared to against Yuktobania.

"Good luck Ryan, and come back home in one piece." The older man finished, facing him. Ryan faced his mentor and nodded. From one warrior to another, the two embraced…

The OFS Stinger (CVN-45), home ported in St. Hewlett, sailed through the mid-morning waters off the coast of southwest Osea. For the time being her escorts, one Ticonderoga cruiser, two Spruance-class destroyers, three Perry-class Frigates and a single San Marina-class attack submarine were positioned in a circle around her to maintain a solid defensive line. One of the Perrys was close to the carrier, acting as a "Plane Guard" in case anyone went down. One of the carrier's HH-60Hs was also aloft. The ship already had the majority of its crew aboard, now it just needed its primary means of waging war.

Lieutenant Commander Rick Bluto, one of CVW-5's Landing Signal Officers (LSO), had been brought aboard early to help get the rest of the wing onboard. He stood on the LSO platform, staring into the blue sky. The next aircraft was approaching his realm of control; he raised his handset and depressed the button on its spine.

"Tomcat on approach, Mothership, call the ball." He said.

Ryan looked towards the LSO platform, actually beyond it. His eyes spotted a series of red and green lights, coined the "Meatball", that would guide him onto the deck.

"Tomcat 105 ball. State four-point-two." Ryan nodded, conveying his fuel state. He looked down one last time to make sure his tailhook, landing gear, and flaps were in the right position.

"Roger that…okay 105 ease up on the power, you're coming in a bit fast…" Bluto said as the F-14 approached.

Ryan grunted and pulled back the throttle for his jet, aiming to balance the F-14's speed. Below, the deck of the massive combat ship was still coming slowly, even though he'd be aboard in a few minutes.

"Keep the wings steady…steaaaady…" Bluto urged in his best "sugar talk".

Ryan breathed and did as he was told, again referencing the Meatball. In the back, Razor said nothing; right now he was just along for the ride. The deck got bigger and was coming up faster…ironic that the term "bigger" applied. He was aiming for a space only a handful of yards in size.

"In the groove…"

The LSO's call was what he wanted to hear. That was it; he was gonna make it…

"Looks good!"

Ryan braced and went to full power as the F-14 slammed onto the deck of the Stinger. If his tailhook missed, he needed to get back into the air. Much to his relief, the F-14 stopped, held back by the steel cables set down to caught it. He eased back on the power and looked to his right for the plane director to guide him out of the way. A man in camouflaged pants, "Mickey Mouse" helmet, and a heavy yellow shirt motioned him towards the bow of the ship. Ryan eased the F-14 across the deck and with some help was positioned near one of the elevators forward the carrier's island. Washington and his crew were waiting for them as they shut down the jet, lifted the canopy and unmasked.

"Welcome aboard, sirs." He said.

"Good to be aboard." Razor commented as he unstrapped from the machine.

Ryan dropped to the deck and handed the aircraft over to Washington before he and his RIO walked to the rear of the aircraft. Ryan glanced at the F-14's tail, which had been bathed in a glossy black and then emblazed with the unit's blue and white hurricane symbol and the wing's tailcode. It gave him some pride every time he saw that, and hopefully that pride would do him some good with whatever was coming. He wondered for a second if this would be a "one-strike war" as many talked about. Conflicts or situations where those involved flew into battle one time and then peace was back in effect. This seemed bigger, but anything was possible. The Futuro Crisis had been several days and rather big, with plenty of action.

The two descended some steps, first down onto a catwalk, and then into the ship itself. They made their way down to the hangar deck, where other jets were being parked, and walked across the way to reach the area where the ready rooms were. Ryan weaved around the nose on an F/A-18 as it sat with its wings folded, soon moving under the tail of an A-6. So much firepower, he thought. Every time he thought about how much it could do, a small shiver rode his spine. The pilot cast one last glance towards the assortment of jets in the hangar deck before he went through a hatch and into the space he'd been heading for. More hatches, with unit badges and their full titles stenciled on the doors lined the left side. He stopped at one with the same patch as the one on his left breast. He opened it and led Razor into the space.

Inside, several of the crews had gathered while others were still landing. The ready room was notably smaller than the meeting rooms ashore, due to the need to save space on a carrier, but otherwise structured the same. At the far left corner was the exit to the lockers for gear, and there was a desk towards the white board for the duty officer. Ryan walked down the center aisle to reach the lockers to store his flight gear before he returned to the main space.

"So you snag a three-wire?" Tom asked as his friend approached.

"Yeah, from what I hear CAG's watching everyone land. No one trapped before him. You?" Ryan explained.

"You bet; I'm not screwing up again after that Eagle got me and especially not when CAG's watching that closely." Tom nodded vigorously.

The TV mounted up in the corner of the room showed the jets as they came in one at a time. For now it was VF-115, as the VFAs and VA had come aboard long before. He waited quietly for Ranger to trap aboard the carrier; he couldn't tell exactly which one was the Commander's from the small TV and speed with which the jets hit the deck. He only knew when the usual formalities of a superior officer were run through. The man in charge made haste for the front; they had a lot to cover.

"Welcome aboard, all. Ah'll keep the debrief short; anyone who got a bad grade gets to have a special talk with the Wing LSOs." Cody began. He pointed to the map.

"In order to reach Oured Bay, we'll have to make a rapid transit around the very southern part of the continent, which will take a few days. In that time we'll be refining our battle plan and our general skills. Despite the easing of tensions, we can expect the Yuktobanians to watch us in some capacity. We'll get the specifics when we get closer to Oured Bay, but as the situation stands the Belkan Navy is gonna get in largely unopposed thanks to raids against our ships in port. The remaining forces will do what they can to slow the Belkans, but don't expect it to be much given their current conditions."

For now that was the meat of the debrief. Until they got closer to the actual fighting, the first priority was to keep the carrier and her escorts safe. It was mentioned that the battlegroup would be one of three, which along with the helicopter landing ship (plus flotilla) OFS Kirwin Islands and the command ship OFS Eratosthenes would make up "Task Force Sea Dragon". The other two carriers were the older Gulford-class OFS Hawk (CV-44) and the fellow Hubert-class OFS Kestrel (CVN-30). The task force commander would be aboard Kestrel. Cody dismissed his pilots and RIOs to get settled into their bunks and staterooms. Ryan would be sharing his stateroom with Tom this cruise. The junior pilot being the bigger man meant he got the bottom. He seemed rather wired as Ryan entered, setting up the space for the long haul.

"Bring any good tapes or CDs?" the spiky-haired blonde asked.

"I brought part of my collection; couldn't grab much in the rush to get back to Altaria Bay." His friend replied.

"Either way I'm gonna get what sleep I can; this is the best time to grab all the Z's possible." Ryan added. He let his bag fall next to the bunks and climbed to the top with the hope of getting maybe an hour of sleep…

Mae had decided to take her own car since her dad's Dodge would be full. The 92 Camry hummed steadily along Highway 18, the Pacific Road, two bags in the back. She'd packed the things she'd need, and had also decided to clean out the fridge. Her father and in-laws, who'd stayed at a hotel overnight, helped her by having an impromptu family meal before Ryan left that morning. This way they wouldn't come back to a decrepit fridge and get dinged by the complex for it. She shook her head; it was just reminding her that there was no set time on how long Ryan would be away. Normal deployments, even with the risk of the world turning upside down, were often easier to go through. Ryan would leave and she would worry, but she could push herself on with the thoughts of him returning on a generally set date. He could be away for much, much longer with this, maybe so long she…

Mae shivered visibly. That was one of the things she feared the most: forgetting what Ryan looked like. Looking at him the day he came home and feeling like she was embracing a stranger. She'd taken the time to keep about half a dozen photos with herself of the blonde pilot. While her father may not have particularly understood why she was behaving this way (She loved him but he'd always been rather abrasive about this kind of thing). She'd taken mostly ones from the walls and dresser, save for one. Both of them carried a special picture of the other in a more intimate setting. Taken with one of those cameras that spat out the photo instantly, she'd actually cheated and coaxed two out of him. One was both of them in bed on their honeymoon, Ryan cradling her while she held the camera above them. The next was in the same setting, but just of her husband giving her bedroom eyes.

Her eyes caught ships out off the coast; their bright colors identifying them as Coastal Patrol Flotilla ships. It was further evidence the war was exploding across the region, Mae thought. On the Highway, life was normal as traffic from the morning rush to work petered out. Her job, though displeased with her, had accepted that she had to leave town longer than her original request due to a "family emergency". Mae didn't plan to be gone for long; just until she could safely return. It was going to be…tricky, to say the least. The company understood war was descending even on Osean territory, but they would still want to run things best they could. She would have to be back in Altaria Bay in a few days

The brunette exited the road and entered the town of Hope Creek. Unlike Altaria Bay, the town was bigger thanks to a few major companies of various flavors that'd planted themselves here. Mae looked at the taller buildings as she furthered herself from the highway. Her own destination was in one of the residential areas on the far side of town. The woman navigated the morning traffic to a neighborhood called Gullman Heights, a series of houses that had first been built in the 50s. She passed the single-story homes, most of them bathed in shades of white, until she came to one she'd lived at when she'd been younger. She stopped in front of the place and got out. About a dozen memories of her teen days here jumped at her, half them including Ryan. Mae trembled; this really was far too much despite all the talk of being ready. Her brain had become enamored with him as he sailed off into danger.

The woman shut the car door behind her and walked around to retrieve things from the right side of the vehicle. Her sister in-law exited the house and approached her. The two hugged.

"Be strong, Mae." Angela managed.

Truthfully she was breaking down herself. The only one that seemed to be devoid of tears was the retired Marine who'd fathered her. Or was he? Mae knew he'd never let people see him cry, ever. Bags with her, the brunette sighed and followed Angela; sleep was the only thing she could think of…

At 1130 local, the final piece of the armada that was to retake Oured Bay was in place. Fleets this size hadn't been seen since the 1940s. Even at the height of the Songolian Civil War in 1968, it'd been nowhere this big. The entire world quietly admitted as the five capital ships and their entourage of escorts and helpers sailed south that the Belkans would have to dig in and hit at every turn. Already the Oseans were more numerous of the two navies, and despite the fact that the Belkans did have submarines, they had precious few Type 206s to use. Their largest ships, besides the supposed Njord, were three Kirov-class cruisers. Each one of them possessed what the world had deemed the ultimate "carrier killer": the cruise missile.

Due to the threat, each group of ships was separated by roughly ninety miles, resulting in most of the Eastern Pacific being put under temporary Osean control. The Yuktobanians, generally eager to spy on carriers as they left port, remained silent. As a show of good faith, Prime Minister Grigori Ultov had held back. It was one less thing Vice Admiral Stanley Harris, the man chosen to lead the mass fleet into battle, had to worry about. From his command space aboard OFS Kestrel, the man stared at the plot chart for the entire southern part of the continent. The Marines and command ship would be at the rear, the carriers up front. OFS Stinger's battlegroup would be the leading formation.

A/N: Readers, as a small note, if I post the wrong chapter somewhere, please use the PM system to inform me. That's part of why it's around. Thanks.