Okay, so let's go take a look on the other side, shall we? It's a short look, but it will be back. I love that Sturgis/Mac friendship!
Thanks for the support and the reviews! If you left a little note at the end, I'd be honored.

(Skates)

0618 ZULU – 0818 local
USS Patrick Henry
Flight room

As always, I'm one if the first here. I arrived shortly after eight. It's a habit we have, Harm and me. Always ready to show that we're all in for anything. Anyway, we're usually of the firsts in. Except today. Today, he's more than fifteen minutes late.

He just arrived. Only a few more minutes before preflight starts. Everyone else is there, except for Bear, Snake and their RIOs. Did they get grounded or what? It's CAG's choice anyway.

I take one look at Harm, and I know he's not here. He's lost, somewhere up there. Already high in the sky, before takeoff. Like we don't spend enough time there already. Who am I kidding? We never spend enough time there. But, what the hell happened last night?

That's just my luck. And it's not good. Earth to pilot. Earth to (dumb) pilot. Demand emergency landing. Come on, come on. Okay, still not working.

So, Skates. He's your pilot, so go wake him up. You don't want to be grounded too. That is so true. And you know it will happen if CAG sees him unfocused, like he is right now. You want to go back up there, not spend the day doing nothing because your loony pilot and friend landed a minute too late. Go, Skates. Go. And shake that dumbstruck grin off his pretty face.

"Good morning, sir." I try to call him, knowing he's going to notice the formality. Okay, at that point I'm still hoping.

"Good morning, Skates. And drop the 'sir', will you?" I was right. Good. I can see one feet on the floor already.

"If you drop the 'Skates', sir, maybe. Permission to…" He cuts me off. Don't get me wrong, I love my call sign, but I don't always want to be called that.

"Granted." I don't think he's gonna like what I have to say, but he did gave me permission.

"You look like hell." He doesn't seem shocked by what I say. Is he lost again?

"Skates… I know, a RIO always feels when something's up in his pilot's mind. The JAG investigation's just harder on me this time. And I'm not saying anything else. You know we can't talk about it until it's over." Yeah, I do.

"I thought you knew him, sir." And I also know you're not done talking about it. Or her. Even if I have to provoke you.

"I do. But it's that stupid wingman of mine that was interrogated by our old Annapolis pal. I got the very pretty Jarhead instead. You'll see." He paused a few seconds. "Forget what I just said. I have no right to speak of a higher ranking officer like that. She's a Lieutenant Colonel, and Sturgis' just pretending to be equal to her. Forget it." So that's what happened last night. How can he get from closed-off to hook, line and sinker in one night? I knew Keeter was a bad influence.

"Right. Hey, focus here. Preflight is starting soon and I don't want the CAG grounding us because you already took off." Finally, I got to my problem.

"You're right, I know. Focus. Thanks, Skates."

"You're welcome, Harm." I don't have to be formal anymore. I got what I wanted. He's back. We'll see in a few minutes if that was more than wishful thinking.

Gosh, he really has no focus today. Not really promising for me since I'll be interrogated too after we're back from wherever and debriefed. Okay, not a good time to think about that. I really didn't see much anyway. The CAG just entered.

Get at attention, people.

...

0651 ZULU – 0851 local
Right outside the flight room

Good. We're back on track. No flight zone patrol, departure at 0930. Nothing's better than a five-hour mission to relax and focus. I would have liked a longer mission, though. At least I'll be on the job all the time. It's near, so no dead time to think while reaching the destination. What the hell am I saying? I love my job. I love what I do. I love to always with the same team. Harm, Keeter, Mace and me. Who am I to complain?

(Mac)

0630 ZULU – 0830 local
USS Patrick Henry
Officer's wardroom

I didn't learn much. What I learned from Lieutenant Matthews completes the bits and pieces of information I got last night, and it may be very useful information. I still have time before meeting Sturgis back in the investigation's room, and I don't want to stay here. I need fresh, fuel-scent free air, if that still exists here. It'll help me think. Okay, so now how do I get out? I really need to learn how to navigate in here just little more.

…

0700 ZULU – 0900 local
USS Patrick Henry
Outside

I'm glad to be out.

It took me twenty minutes to arrive, but a least I got a free tour of the carrier. I'll know where to go from now on. I'm not sure where this is, exactly. It's a little isolated, above the flight deck. The jet fuel sent is strong, but still reasonable. A little wind is up, flushing everything away. I wonder, does anyone ever come here? It's almost peaceful.

I look down, the fight deck is crowded. It seems they're going to prepare aircrafts for an upcoming mission. War time, I know. I never really imagined how much people were working around one machine. Plus the ones on the deck, regulating everything… God, it's like half the crew is here. For only a few selected ones flying on and off the deck? Talk about teamwork. I have to watch, it's almost fascinating. Even in combat, I was stationed on dry land. I never even took a Navy-host tour on some ship that got us from the U.S. to another destination. It is impressing.

I wish I could stay there and watch, but I have other things to do.

It's really the less crowded place on this entire ship. But hey, I'm not complaining. I got here almost by pure chance, and it's offering me a great view and a great place to think. Okay, so I know I can't process anything else before I got in touch with Sturgis again. Right now, I don't really have anything to do here, except maybe looking down. The crafts are out, and almost ready to go. Be safe, boys and girls, I don't want to have to conduct another investigation here.

The thing is, I'm still here. Part of me actually wanted to see the birds (damn pilot talk) taking off. I must be crazy. The first time I was on this ship, I only stayed half an hour and didn't see anything. So, this time, I want to know more. You know, for personal, up close knowledge of the world outside of the United States Marine Corps. Why would I ever do that? I don't have a clue. I just do.

Takeoff is so loud, so loud. They're using catapults, as they don't have the runway length to reach enough speed. I just watched four engines fly out. And I loved it. if Uncle Matt heard me right now…

(Sturgis)

0800 ZULU – 1000 local
USS Patrick Henry
Investigation Room

I just returned from my quarters, fresh from my after-gym shower, when a smiling Mac came back into the room. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who was enjoying the morning.

"I guess the interview went well. Otherwise you wouldn't have this look all over your face." I wanted to add more, but I restrained myself. I still don't want to piss her off.

"I didn't learn much. I was… actually I don't know exactly where. Up, and looking down several yards to the flight deck, in a very quiet place. I was just out to think." You don't have to justify yourself to me, Mac. We're almost friends, remember?

"And see aircrafts taking off." I added, knowing very well where she could have gone. And to think I was surprised…

"I never saw it before. Cut me some slack, Sturgis." Her tone got annoyed, so I changed the conversation back to business.

"It's okay, Mac. What did you learn?"

"Not much more than your old pals told us yesterday. Something about a startled RIO and a broken radio." Do I have to get it out of her, too?

"You're a lawyer, Mac. Elaborate."

"Lieutenant Matthews told me she couldn't radio over Bear's plane. Apparently they couldn't do it from here either. We'll have to do research into that. He swore he saw Lieutenant Zanetti freeze for a second. I'm not sure why he was looking, but he was, at this moment. Seconds later, Bear started to have serious problems. I didn't get much else." Her tone held a point of defeat. She has a reputation for getting confession and the truth out of everyone. I don't think they got the memo here.

"I had a better witness, I guess. I was told your last part, sort of. She was a little frightened, seeing her screen not moving for just half a second and not reporting it. Seconds later, Bear was in a great deal of trouble with the keeping-the-plane-in-the-air part. She didn't report the radio problem, though." Okay, so a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and let's hope soon we'll know what exactly happened. It's starting to get on my nerves, too.

"Great. Okay, we do have a little more. It's not enough, though."

"So, where do we go from here? I guess the best we can do now is data recovering." Lead the way, Mac. You're primary on this, remember?

"Yeah. I'm sure I can read some and understand it, but do you know how to read the rest?" Ugh…

"Do I look like Harm?" I say playfully.

"Not at all. He's just…" Okay, trailing off, too?

"Shut up, Mac. I'm not familiar either with all this. I prefer under the sea, remember?" I think we're friends, now.

"Okay. Let's retrieve the data, read what we can and then ask for a little help. I'm sure you can do this and still maintain our image to the entire crew." I didn't get…

"And how am I supposed to do?"

"You are going to ask your friends, and only them." Oh. I understand, now.

"Fine, whatever. So, watching the birds fly, huh?" This is payback.

"Sturgis…"

We continued to talk about the case, going into the details we both retrieved from our inquiries, catching up each other, bouncing up theories. This was the most normal part of our weird assignment here. We had a few theories, each in need of further inquisition. Pointing towards an electronic failure, but not ruling out pilot or RIO error just yet. Sometime later, feeling we couldn't go further, we decided to head to the fight deck in order to retrieve all data and question the mechanical crew responsible for the engine. Just as we stepped out of the room, Mac spoke again.

"What did we do to deserve a case we couldn't get through without exterior help?" Yeah, I was sort of asking myself the same thing.

"War time, Mac, war time. Little time and very short on qualified people." And that's the best rational explanation I could come up with.

"You think so?" She didn't really buy it. Well, neither did I.

"Do you really see another reason why Chegwidden would dig out a bubblehead who personally knows two of the pilots and a Marine who works alone?"

"Yeah. He's crazy." She has a point.

"There's always that."

I was slightly puzzled by this, but she was amused. Ready-for-everything Jarhead stuff, I guess. Still, we were the last persons likely to be sent here, to do this particular job. Both lost to our thoughts, we went to retrieve our precious and partially unreadable data.

(Mac)

0942 ZULU - 1142 local
USS Patrick Henry
Investigation Room

Okay, what is this mumbo-jumbo all about?

I swear one ride in a tomcat leads out to more paperwork than a JAG case. With the sight difference that we can understand what is written on our case. It's English, not numbers and abbreviations of some sort. Here, right now, we're just trying to make sense of all of it. Never mind, we won't. There's only so much my Marine and his Navy training allows us to understand. How do birds like that fly? There are so much captors and electronics devices it must bend under the weight. Yeah, we definitely need help. Great.

Since when do Marines ask for Squids' help? Since they have to, apparently. Since we're sent to investigate something we're not familiar with. Sturgis' right, our C.O.'s crazy. But, he's a former SEAL. Frankly, what else could we expect?

"Okay, Sturgis, let's see. What did you dug out from everything we have?" I was mad because I needed exterior help.

"Except for the obvious fact that we don't have anything on the mishap itself. It stopped a few seconds before all went to hell." He almost sounded embarrassed.

"Yeah, except that." I couldn't help it. My tone dripped with sarcasm.

"Not much. My little experience and bubblehead gut told me all was normal, constant and everything. Up to a certain point, a few seconds before the recordings stopped. Either it failed to send or receive, I don't know. We'll have to wait for the crew to finish their inquiry on the engine. I mean, one second it's fine, then it all goes to hell, then it's kind of fine again, and then nothing. Everything stopped functioning." So, we had done the same thing. Compare numbers and make almost-educated assumptions.

"This point, right there, when it all went weird, they must be what Lieutenant Zanetti saw and didn't report."

"You think there's human liability here?"

"I don't know, maybe. It's too soon. We need help understanding all this, and the crew's report, and the computer model of the mishap."

"I still don't know what we're talking about. The only thing familiar is the altitude and the coordinates."

"Right there with you, bubblehead. My Recon-trained eyes aren't picking up much more than you do." So, maybe it's time to stop fishing and get help.

"So, where are Bear and Snake? There's nothing more we can do here, but continue our questioning. We need to hear them before asking for help. We have to wait for Skates and Mace, along with Harm and Keeter anyway."

"Yeah. So, Bear or Snake?"

"Bubblehead or Marine?"

"You wanna toss a coin or what?" I wasn't totally against the idea. And so pissed that I needed to find fun things to do here or someone was going to get hurt from all the frustration bubbling inside me.

"Why not? Since everything's already weird."

"No, no need. I'll get her to talk. What interrogation techniques are you squids trained for anyway?" This, this is fun. I have to maintain that reputation of mine, too.

"Get out."

"Sensitive nerve?" Mess with me, I mess with you.

"No, just Squid solidarity." Oh… squid solidarity… so sweet!

"I take Bear, you take Snake. Then we'll have the crew reports and the computer analysis."

"Great. Meet you back here at…" My stomach made itself known to me. Yeah, right. I'm hungry.

"Hey, starving Marine here. Wanna eat something before pursuing the investigation? Do you ever eat?" Something else than sub food?

"I do. Shall we go?"

"Lead the way, Sturgis."

As we headed out to the officer's mess, I had a thought for the ones up there, in the air. Dismissing it quickly – letting my growling stomach do it, actually – I cached up with my squid friend, more than ready to eat something and impatient to continue, to finally understand what it was all about.