"Five minutes, that's all I'm asking! Five minutes of no rolling or pitching so I can drink my coffee in peace."

With a frustrated huff, the Captain reached out a fork to keep his cup of coffee from sliding off the table, as his first cup had already made a mess of his quarters and the last thing he needed was to be cleaning up a hot spill after only a half a cup.

But yet again large supercarrier listed to the starboard, pens rolling off of tables, and papers hanging precariously at the brink. A quiet yelp was a clear indication that another brave sailor had fallen off his perch and onto the cold floor.

"When the waves stop for five minutes, I'll do that. My job is not to make you comfortable, I am not a cruise ship." There was an uncharacteristic strain in his voice, the product of fighting the waves and gales for the last six hours. His massive gray flanks worked too much like a sail, pushing him constantly off course.

The captain offered only a sigh, and opted just to hold his coffee cup instead. At least this way his forks stayed warm.

Down in the cafeteria, Echo and Bravo were rather busy chasing their breakfasts across the tables. The whole Jolly Wrenches squadron were crammed down into the mess hall, having taken over the back corner like any professional military unit did.

The almost constant listing made such a simple task as eating jump up into the difficulty level of beating a squadron of F-22's in a mock combat simulation. As soon as one would manage to grab hold of their meals, another would have to chase theirs, making the tables unendingly messy, promising quite the task for the cleaning crew.

"Hey, Zebra! Have tried racing the plates yet?"

"Very funny, shrimpy."

This dinner conversation had been rather lacking, due to the unusual amount of concentration required, but it could be left up to young Zap to start one up, whatever means necessary. Even at the cost of Zebra's wrath. While racing was a much enjoyed hobby of the Hornet/Tomcat hybrid to the point of close obsession, she wasn't about to let this rookie get the best of her.

Next to Zebra, Echo was trying his best to keep his can of jet fuel from escaping his grasp, but such a momentous task was not going to be completed by meer jaws.

"Need help?"

"No." In an amusing show of stubbornness, Echo scooted as far away as he could from Bravo's reach in order to prove such an important point. Unfortunately this movement tipped the opened container dangerously to one side, threatening to spill it's contents all over the table.

Of course, Zebra didn't take kindly to being squashed so close to her own neighbor, and such opinion was quickly expressed with a gentle but firm headbutt to the flank. "Move it, I you're invading my personal space!"

"Am not."

"Than please explain why your wing is almost stabbing me in the eye."

"Why is your eye so close to my wing? Is the paint scratched?"

"Just move over before I start pushing." Deciding to not risk invoking a shove for the mere sake of his meal, Echo scooted a few feet to the left, but made sure to keep his can as far away from Bravo as possible, despite the fact the other male was no longer interesting in offering his assistance.

Farther down the row of tables, a can skidded off the table with a determination comparable to that of a honey badger.

"Good thing Cosmos was too busy talking to have opened his can." Zap offered between a mouthful of his own.

Without warning, the Flysenhower hit an unexpectedly large wave, and Bravo felt himself sliding and before he knew he was only one of a many sandwiched between their comrades and the bulkheads. Echo had managed to brace himself on a table, but Zap hadn't been so lucky. Flattened between the imposing form of Theta, a darked eyed A-10 and Superhornet mix, and the smaller but no softer Pluto, the youngest of the Wrenches had no chance to even brace before the ship listed the opposite direction and the pile up followed suit.

Behind him, Rat lost his grip and slid across the room, the older Hornet having no choice but to escape the group waterslide by taking shelter by a support column.

This continued for another minute or so before their ship managed to compensate for the push of the wind.

Eventually, as the day crew headed for their bunk, the waves calmed enough to allow for the use of the raised bunks, though sleep was bound to be difficult to catch.

All through the night, the fleet of warships braved the high waves, even though it seemed the storm would never end. The carrier Admiral was slowly coming to the realization that his fleet couldn't take much more.

Fighting against the waves was demanding a huge amount of energy and concentration, energy that was not easy to obtain.

The Flysenhower's nuclear powered engine offered him a tremendous amount of energy, but the conventionally powered engines of his fleetmates had to worked much harder to keep up with the energy demanded by such conditions. They would be burning through their fuel stores incredibly quickly. No doubt their engines were reaching a dangerously high temperature. It would be best to get them out quick.

Not to mention the general discomfort of being continuously bombarded by walls of raging saltwater. Such a feeling was quickly reinforced as "Buster" spit out a mouth full of seawater. "Eugh, gross."

"If you don't want water in your mouth I suggest you keep it shut." The massive carrier offered. He felt bad, knowing that the young ship's have the same height he did, and that the waves often washed over his the whole deck. It was times like these that he envied submarines, being able to ride out the storm far below the surface.

"How far till we're out of the storm?" Solstice asked, shaking off the remains of a rather large wave that had reached almost to her eyes.

"Not far, we are almost there."

"Set course two degrees left of our current should cut our time in this storm drasticlly."

With that change of course it was another hour and a half before the fleet reached calmer waters, but no matter it was a welcome relief for both ship and crew. And the sight that awaited them was a reward all on it's own.

Up high it seemed that ribbons of silky light were weaving between the stars, simmering and moving like dancers in glowing rainbow robes. So far north, close to the Aleutian Islands, the Northern Lights were a spectacular sight. An a rare one indeed.

While few were ever allowed on deck, such a sight could not be hidden from the crew. They had worked hard the past four months, and deserved the this short opportunity to get some fresh air and enjoy the beauties of the night sky.

The news spread quickly, and even Hammerhead surfaced to join the gawking crowds.

"It seems the stars have found themselves quite the dancer partners tonight."

A sight like this, is certainly worth the struggle of a storm.

Echo and Bravo slipped out onto the deck with their comrades; neither had seen such a sight before without the help of pictures and postcards, that had barely held a candle to such an amazing sight. Maybe moving north wasn't such a bad idea.

For a moment the word fading in to nothing but a spectacular light show, and all cares and worried were swept away on wings of red and purple. The difficulties and stresses of deployment melted, and troubles of the world felt like nothing more than distant memories.

It was calm now, and quiet. Unbelievably quiet.

Echo tapped his friend's wing with a grinned brightly. "How about we take the night time patrol today?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Together they followed their squadron to the catapults and the shot off in the stars to join the dancers in the weaving world of wonders, and to once again bring safely to the fleet.

After all, anything could happen in the open sea.

O.O Everyone says I need to stop rewriting and get some sleep... what's sleep? I've never heard of it.