Naval Strike Air Weapons Center, NAS Fallon, NV, 0745

The ear-piercing whine of jet engines starting up rent the desert air. The heat was just starting to rise as the clock hour hand slowly made its way towards oh-eight hundred. Animal stared out at the F-14s starting up their engines and nodded approvingly to himself as he looked over at Tombstone. "It's gonna be a good day out there, kid." Animal said. "Nice blue sky…I think we'll take the Flanker-Viper for a spin, shall we?" The Flanker-Viper was a blue-tri-toned F-16N. There were only two that hadn't been grounded for hairline cracks in the bulkheads of the fuselage and those two were what were going up today. Tombstone nodded in response.

The two NSAWC instructors; CO and IP headed for their mounts on the far side of the airfield a good walk away. As they walked, a jeep hailed them and they got on it as two other IPs headed that same way but on motorized transport.

"Thanks a bunch." Tombstone grinned at the lanky Texan in the driver's seat. "I thought we were gonna have to walk all that way. If we did, the newbs would be back before we even got airborne."

"Thought y'all needed a ride." Commander Eoin "Lizard" O'Shea drawled as he stomped the accelerator down the flight line as he headed for the far end of the airfield where the NSAWC F/A-18s were parked along with the two lonely F-16Ns. "A mighty far way to walk in this heat."

Animal grinned as the jeep screeched to a halt in front of what would be Animal's F-16N. "Thanks, Lizard." Animal acknowledged Lizard's favor as the jeep stopped in front of the aircraft just long enough for Animal and Tombstone to bail out. Tombstone's was parked right beside Animal's. They both hit the pavement running; headed for the F-16Ns doing a thorough exterior preflight making sure that all the stuff that could potentially fall off the aircraft or get sucked into an intake were secure: weapons, aircraft parts, furry or in this case, scaly critters. Flying a fighter wasn't a kick the tires, light the fires venture. If something fell off one's aircraft or got sucked into a jet intake, it could, understatedly, give the aviator a bad day.

Animal peered up at the canopy rail which was just slightly above eye-level. His mount looked as though it squatted on the tarmac. The F-16N was a repurposed Block 30 small-mouth Viper which was able to take both the F100 and F110 engine. The F-16N that Animal was taking into simulated air combat today was a F110 engined Viper with a lot more power as he was going to simulate a Flanker. Ideally, he should fly the NSAWC F-14 for this one, but he decided against a similar aircraft and opted for the F-16N.

Looking up at the cloudless morning sky, his aviator sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he was startled by a voice saying, "Beautiful day to fly, isn't it, sir?" He looked over to see a ETSA with brunette hair in a bun, her brown eyes merry as she grinned at him.

"Good morning, Coates." Animal inquired, recognizing the young woman who had been standing in front of his desk, in processing to her duty station, several days previous, "Duties on the flight line?"

"Yes sir. CDR Cavanaugh wanted me to get the lowdown on ET duties at Fallon. He assigned me to aviation electronics." She stated. "I'm finding that I'm learning a lot, sir."

"Good." Animal said as he turned to another scurrying AM2. "Everything checked out on the bird, AM2?"

The AM2 snapped to and nearly saluted. "Yes, sir! She's all ready to fly."

Animal grinned at Coates who looked at Animal with a question present in her eyes as he walked around the F-16N with Coates following his every step watching him as he did his walk around. "Good for you, Coates. I'll talk to you about your rating test after this hop. I gotta go chastise some fighter jocks who've gotten a bit too big for their britches."

"Applying tough love, sir?" Coates asked cracking the first genuine grin that Animal had seen from her.

Climbing the ladder of the F-16N, he looked back at her with a grin of his own, "yeah...somethin' like that..." He affirmed. Settling himself in the cockpit of the F-16N Viper, the AM2 helping him with the ejection seat harness. Animal pulled his flight helmet out of his helmet bag, pulling out the mask and taking one bayonet clip and attaching it to the receiver on one side of the flight helmet. Giving Coates a thumbs-up as she looked on fascinated by the pre-flight procedures that a naval aviator had to do in order to get flight-ready. Arranging his flight helmet on his head in a utilitarian manner, as warriors of old did with their helms, fastening his helmet on his head with the helmet chinstrap, he set about checking the oxygen feed coming through his mask. When satisfied, he set about starting the pre-flight cockpit checklist prior to starting engine; there was only one on the F-16.

Coates looked on fascinated by the rituals of naval aviation. The AM2 noticed her watching the admiral making his pre-flight preps; and drolly grinned. "Hey Coates, make sure you're clear of the intake or you'll be hamburger!"

"Aye!" Jen shook herself out of her reverie as she scurried to do as the AM2 commanded and scurried over to the side far enough away from the yawning air scoop of the F-16N.

The AM2 raised his left hand overhead with one fingers extended to indicate the number of the engine to be started, and initiated a circular motion of his right hand at head level. Animal raised a thumbs up to indicate that he was starting the engine and all personnel should stand clear. The F-16N used an internal APU attached to a fan that pushed bleed air through the engine producing enough electrical power for an independent engine start; no huffer cart needed. Coates scurried to comply with the request. When she had done that task, the all-clear signal was given and all cleared the general vicinity of the F-16N as the engine spooled up and a high pitched whine filled the air. Animal lowered the bubble canopy of the F-16N and raised a thumbs up to both Coates and the AM2 and saluted them. As tradition both snapped to attention and saluted him back. Disengaging the nose wheel lock and tapping the throttles slightly forward, Animal eased the Viper forward and taxied along the flight line towards the taxiway and headed out towards the runway.

Jen, watching the departing F-16N, marveled at its small size and sleekness and wondered even more about the CO of NSAWC. Evidently he was renowned as a commanding officer and she certainly didn't feel put-upon to have to bring her efforts up to expected level. He was tough and fair and it didn't hurt that naval aviators had that certain mystique about them. Coates hadn't realized just how closely she would be working with the naval aviators at this base.

The reverie was interrupted by the F-16N now a far distant shape turning onto the runway, then the increase in engine noise to a sound that sounded like a giant ripping a gigantic sheet of paper amplified by one hundred fifty percent as the F-16 shot an orange afterburner flame out the rear of its engine and accelerated down the runway lifting off about two thirds of its length. Coates marveled as the F-16 as it cleared what appeared to be the end of the runway at 30 AOA yanked its nose up and executed an eighty degree angle of attack climb-out. "Wow!"

"Trust me...Coates." The AM2 grinned as he looked at her. "Admiral's departures never get old. He still flies like a bat outta hell. Best damned fighter jock, I've ever seen; best damned CO I've ever served under."

"You mean that?" Jen asked as she looked at the F-16 which was now a barely discernible speck in the sky.

"Absolutely one hundred percent, Coates. You stick with this CO and you'll go places." The AM2 said. "So Cavanaugh assigned you to flight line duties? Well let's see which aircraft have got the down chits for electronics and you can go about helping us get'em back in the air. How about we check out that line of F/A-18s?" The AM2 grinned at her and she nodded in reply as they walked down the flight-line to the hangar where several F/A-18s had engines out of their fuselages and panels open for repairs of avionics. "So, skipper said that you're supposed to complete your ET (A) rating within three weeks then we'll try to get you to ET3 in the next six months in time for the next round of enlisted promotions. By the way, I'm Aircraft Maintenanceman Second Class Art Toivonen. I'll be your mentor on the flight-line; follow my lead and I'll introduce you to some other ET Threes and Twos and that way, you'll get up to speed."

Harm's Apartment, North of Union Station, Washington DC, 0800hrs

"Is there any coffee on?" Harm heard Mac over the running water. "I think I'm going to need some when I get out of the shower."

"I'm making some right now." Harm replied to Mac's query as he scooped some fresh coffee grounds into the coffee filter and started the coffee brewer. "How long are you going to be?" he asked loud enough so that Mac could hear him, "I'm starting it now and I don't want your coffee to get cold before you get out."

"I'm just finishing up and I'll be out in about five minutes. Just so long as it's piping hot and Marine grade, I'll be fine." Mac replied as she shut off the water and started towelling off.

"OK…making it potent enough to scrape the barnacles off the side of the Seahawk. Just the way you like it. Mac…" Harm replied grinning to no-one in general as he was alone in the kitchen.

"I knew I loved you for some reason." Mac came out dressed in Harm's bathrobe, towelling her hair, smirking at Harm. "So…once I'm human, I guess we have to go out and get some boxes so that we can pack up all your stuff and get it ready to get shipped. Then what do we do about your plane?"

"I figure it'll take us until about tomorrow to finish up packing here and then it'll be a day and a half of prepping Sarah. She won't take too kindly to kicking the tires…and taking off, and she needs to be in top shape in order to fly out three-quarters of the way across the country." Harm explained, a rather satisfied look on his face as he realized just how fun it was going to be to fly the Stearman all the way across the country. "I'm also going to have to look at the weather over the Mid-west. Thunderstorms tend to pop up regularly in the late fall; second tornado season and all that, Mac. I don't want to end up with us flying into a CB (a cumulonimbus cloud). Sarah won't be able to handle it and there's no point in us dying trying to fly through one of them. So I think we'll take a northerly route and then curve down through Wyoming and Utah before we hit Nevada."

"Sounds like a trip." Mac said. "I'm looking forward to it." Her eyes sparkled as she looked over at Harm.

"So what do you think? You pack up the utility closet and all the clothes that I don't need and I'll start packing the majority of the kitchen?" Harm asked; a mischievous smirk on his face.

"That sounds fair." Mac said, her mood much better since she had a shower and a cup of coffee. "Just so long as we have something to eat out of and the bed doesn't get disassembled till the day before the movers show up." Harm nodded in agreement. "Now what were we going to do about food for breakfast? Eat out? If so I need to change into some work clothes."

Harm said, "I don't think I have anything that's suitable for cooking. I'm going to have to throw most of it out." he said pulling out a garbage bag. "It's too old to be healthy."

Mac decided for him. "Well, let's go out and get some food to eat after I change, then we can probably think better. It'll probably be better to pack with food in our stomach, instead of sneaking off and getting a snack every so often."

"Sounds good to me." Harm agreed. "But do we need two people going out for food?" He rooted around in his pockets pulling out his keys.

Mac's eyes widened, "You're trusting me with the Vette?" She asked.

"I seem to recall dimly one night when I was plastered..." He grinned at her. "I think we got home in one piece." Harm made a motion to scratch his head and Mac smirked at him.

Rogue Flight, TACTS Range Bravo, NSAWC Training Range, Fallon NV 0820

"Rogue One, this is Rogue Two…" Tombstone radioed. "Three contacts bearing 130 degrees high."

"Rogue Two…Rogue One, let's pay them a visit." Animal looked up over his shoulder to see the three F-14D Tomcats heading away from them. "Heads in scope." His hand gripped the throttle and pushed it forward, accelerating, as he rolled the F-16N, pointing the nose up towards the flight of F-14Ds. Tombstone followed. "Time to wakey-wakey the natives." Animal chuckled under his breath as the F-16N rapidly gained altitude.

"Holy shit, where did they come from?" were the surprised voices on the TACNET as two F-16s bounced three F-14Ds who were unable to form a cohesive defense against the two attacking Aggressors.

"Calling Atoll shot on Rattler Lead." Animal radioed to the TACTS range judges as he centered a bouncing F-14D in his sights.

"Roger that, Rogue One, you have a kill. Rattler Lead, do you copy."

"Roger." The glum voice of the Tomcat driver was clear through the TACNET. Animal looked around for the other two Tomcats.

Rattler Two, TACTS Range Bravo, NSAWC Training Range, Fallon NV 0823hrs

"Rattler Three, two of us left." Cubby grumbled. "I told you he was up here." Cubby tried to get his Sidewinder to lock on the F-16N that was bouncing in and out of his sights; there was no way to get a steady lock. "I can't lock him up, I can't lock him up." His RIO was silent looking over to make sure that there was no-one else on his six.

Rogue One, TACTS Range Bravo, NSAWC Training Range, Fallon NV 0823

Animal grinned a malevolent grin underneath his oxygen mask. He missed flying the Turkey, but he relished the new lease on life he'd gotten when he'd been assigned to NSAWC. "C'mon…Cubby…you can do it…" he grinned to himself as he coaxed the F-14D in closer. Letting loose a chuckle; he waited…reeling Cubby in. "C'mon…Cubby…just three more seconds…"

Rattler Two, TACTS Range Bravo, NSAWC Training Range, Fallon NV 0824hrs

"Where the hell are you? Rattler Three…" Cubby growled as he tried to reel the F-16N in. "I think I've got him, I think I've got him."

"I'm on your wing, but I've got the other guy hassling me." Rattler Three radioed back.

"You're on my wing…stay put!" Cubby warned. "When I take the shot, you and I will take the other guy."

The F-16N hung in the sight long enough for Cubby to say "Fox Tw-" and then Cubby noticed an orange flame coming out of the F-16N's burner can as the F-16N jumped out of his missile lock reticle like a scalded cat.

"Fox Two on Rogue One…was determined to be a miss…Rogue One evaded." the voice of the TACTS range judge came over the TACNET.

"Damnit!" Cubby nearly screamed in frustration as he yanked the stick to try to follow it, but his energy had bled out to the point where he couldn't pull his nose up to go into the vertical. "I can't hold my nose up." Cubby snapped, "I don't have energy…I don't have energy." Cubby realized that he had gotten too slow and the F-14 didn't have the forward momentum to pull into the vertical and could only watch in dismay as the F-16N climbed higher and higher and then rolled over the top like an avenging angel.

Rogue One, TACTS Range Bravo, NSAWC Training Range, Fallon NV 0824

Animal snickered as he heard both Rattler Two and Three cuss up a blue streak. Animal had just kept enough AOA and energy so that he could pull up into the vertical and had just waited just long enough for Cubby to commit to taking a shot, then got the hell out of Dodge. Pulling the F-16N over the top, he heard Tombstone taking an Atoll shot on Rattler Three, who waggled his wings and bugged out. Rattler Two was rattled. The question was, did the naval aviator in the Tomcat have any more fight in him? NSAWC wasn't just about tactics; the pilots were also being evaluated and their warrior spirit was assessed. If the instructors felt that the aviators weren't warriors as well, that would also be communicated to the aviator's commanding officer and sooner than later, the aviator would find himself transferred to a squadron that didn't have anything to do with tactical aviation.

Dropping down to form up on Tombstone's wing, he let the junior instructor take Cubby, but Cubby wasn't about to go down without a fight. The fight went into a rolling scissors where one aviator tried to force the other out in front so that they could take the shot. Animal was assessing his instructors as well as the NSAWC students. That was the role of the commanding officer. The fight ended with a good maneuver on the part of Tombstone who rolled his F-16N to slip neatly behind the F-14D and killed him with an Atoll shot that on the electronic screen of the judges tracked beautifully in a straight line up Cubby's port burner-can.

"OK Knock it off, knock it off, knock it off…RTB, Rattlers One, Three, leave the regeneration coords and form up on me. Rattler Two, Rogue Two form up on my wing." Animal barked out as they pointed their noses back towards Fallon.

Harm's Apartment, North of Union Station, Washington DC, 0925hrs

Mac re-entered the apartment with a bag laden with food; she had borrowed the Corvette just long enough to run to the restaurant to pick up breakfast for the both of them. She could hear Harm's stomach growling as she walked over to the island to deposit the food there. "I'm back..." She rustled the bags just loudly enough for a disheveled Harm to hear.

"OK. I've got most of the clutter removed and there's garbage bags that I have to take down. Most of my clothes have been packed away. Don't want the movers making holes so the furniture's being brought out to the living room." Harm informed her; patting his hands, then his torso, to get the dust off his clothes.

"Ewwww. Go wash your hands!" Mac waved a hand in front of her face to dispel the dust motes swirling around. "I hope you have a canister vac because you're leaving a dust trail."

"Yes ma'am". Harm grumbled.

"Git and wash up or the food's gonna get cold." Mac admonished suppressing a grin as she pulled out the food in takeout containers. It was just a breakfast greasy spoon just around the corner but it had some nice breakfast burritos. Harm, being the vegetarian, got the egg and lettuce burrito and Mac, being the voracious red meat eater ended up with sausage and egg. Two containers of hash browns complemented their breakfast and Harm's stomach growled as it indicated its hunger. Harm inhaled the scents coming off the hash browns, closing his eyes in sublime bliss as Mac tried to keep from bursting out laughing.

"Eat! It's going to get cold!" Mac repeated, holding in her laughter, as she motioned Harm to sit down after he'd amscrayed to the washroom and wiped his clothes of dust; as well as washed his hands.

"Thanks, Mac, for running out and getting the stuff. I didn't realize I had so much stuff to pack until I really got into it." Harm acknowledged the favor Mac had done by getting the food. "It's going to take a day and a half just to pack up everything and get it all into boxes." He mentioned indicating the currently empty boxes with his hands.

Debrief; Naval Strike Air Weapons Center, NAS Fallon, NV, 0935 hrs

"So, what could you have done? Lieutenant?" Animal looked over at Cubby who wilted like a lit candle.

"Monitored my airspeed…" Cubby reluctantly said; his ego bruised. "My airspeed was down and I didn't realize it."

"Because…" Animal indicated Cubby to continue.

"…because I boresighted, sir. I was too busy trying to get Rogue One in my boresight and failed to realize that I was getting slow; then when Rogue One pulled up into the vertical, I didn't have enough energy to match his maneuver." Cubby hung his head.

"Energy is life, Lieutenant. Rogue One had you, he could have pulled over the top, reversed direction and hammered you with an Atoll. Then when you realized that you didn't have energy, you didn't check six and figure out where the other guy was; you knew where the guy up top was, but you didn't look for his trail. And Rogue Two got your wingman with an Atoll, then when he went after you, you went into a rolling scissors with a more experienced aviator, end-game." Animal slid his hand across his throat in a cutting motion, then hammered home the points, eyeballing Cubby. "When you don't have the advantage, your only option is to find a way to bug out: pull a hard right and extend, pitch your nose down; regain energy and separation…get out of missile range, then re-evaluate the situation once you're clear. Only if you feel that you can take the guy do you re-engage. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Cubby said; feeling his tail-feathers toasted.

The debrief was succinct, but detailed. Every cross-section of the fight was assessed and gone over so that the students and the instructors could learn. Animal was a MiG-Killer so his instruction was well-received and the students took his instruction to heart. The instructors also learned new things from him. And the instructor debrief sessions were looked forward to as the instructors could also make changes in the way that they debriefed their students to be more effective.

The debrief was wrapped up and the students went off to the simulators with Tombstone in tow and Animal headed to the locker-room to shower and zip up into a fresh bag. An ACM hop was akin to a boxing match and a workout all wrapped into one and the sweat-factor was just as great so diving into the shower was a necessity after such an exercise. After all that was complete; freshly garbed in a different sage green flight suit with all the accoutrements of rank on the shoulders, embroidered nametag on his chest above the left breast; Animal walked out of the locker-room bound for his office and then to the hangar to check on his latest enlisted protégé.

Hangar 17, Naval Strike Air Weapons Center, NAS Fallon, NV, 1045hrs

"Afternoon, Chief." Animal addressed the Chief Aviation Mechanic. "So…how are the birds doing?"

"Well, aside from the shortage of parts that is currently being addressed at the moment…" The AMC nodded at Animal. "Sir, we seem to be short on quite a few parts."

"I addressed Commander Palomo about this matter yesterday. Has he gotten the staff to assess the parts inventory yet?" Animal narrowed his eyes at the AMC.

"He was going to call a meeting this afternoon regarding the matter, sir."

"That's not good enough, Chief, I want every single one of the men assembled here right now." Animal said.

"Yes, SIR!" The AMC was efficient and less than five minutes later, Animal had a group of enlisted men surrounding him eager to hear what the admiral was about to say.

"Gentlemen, I understand that there is a shortage of aviation parts in inventory." He looked over at the group. "I want the matter rectified or there will be fallout: we cannot have aircraft unable to fly. I'm assigning you to inventory the parts and Chief, I want you to sign off on the parts inventory forms. That way we are well aware of what inventory parts are needed to be requisitioned in the appropriate quantities. I also want you to recommend an appropriate quantity and list of parts that we need to always maintain on hand. On that I wish to see a minimum quantity which we must maintain at all times – this will be the amount of parts of each type that we will not go under to maintain operational standard in the maintenance department." Animal looked over at each and every one of the enlisted men and officers who were standing in a semi-circle. "We are an operational unit and as such we must maintain a minimum standard and exceed it. I do not want to see any less than one hundred of each part; we need to be able to maintenance every aircraft on this airfield if any go down. So…let's get at it."

"Aye, sir!" the chorus of cheerful acknowledgement from every enlisted echoed through the hangar.

"Now, do you know where Commander Palomo is?"

"Yes, sir." The AMC indicated the office.

Maintenance Office, Naval Strike Air Weapons Center, NAS Fallon, NV,

Commander Palomo didn't know what the hell happened as the flight-suited and disgusted looking rear admiral came storming through the office doors. "On my heels…Palomo." the rear admiral said spitting out the words. The stunned commander looked at the rear admiral. "You are hereby relieved of duty…under § 892. Art. 92. Failure to obey order or regulation by your superior. You were hereby told yesterday to assign staff to detail inventory aviation parts under your purview and responsibility. That meant that you were supposed to assign them to inventory parts yesterday, not tomorrow or the next day. You failed to execute that order in a timely manner. AMC, get the MPs." Animal snapped.

"Yes, sir."

"Who is second in command?" Animal turned to the office staff looking stunned.

"Commander Glen Holloway, sir."

"Get him out here." Animal growled.

In less than two minutes, CDR Holloway was standing in front of him.

"You are hereby replacing Commander Palomo as Commanding Officer Maintenance Department, NSAWC. Am I clear on that. You will hereby monitor your staff as they conduct parts inventory and execute your orders upon receipt from a superior officer. I am relieving Commander Palomo for dereliction of duty. You have twenty four hours in which to conduct an inventory of all aviation maintenance parts currently on hand; you also have another forty eight hours from the completion of the inventory to bring the parts up to acceptable minimum amounts; my acceptable minimum is one hundred parts per inventory SKU codes unless they are bolts or other fasteners, of which the minimum will be set at 100,000. Is that clear?"

CDR Holloway's eyes widened in surprise and he acknowledged as he looked upon the ashen face of his former commanding officer. "Errr…yes sir."

"MPs…" Animal said, looking over at the MPs who had appeared, side-arms at their sides. "You can escort Commander Palomo to detention." The MPs stepped to the side of the ashen faced CDR Palomo and led him off to detention. "Make sure that the inventory is done as soon as possible." He ominously warned the equally ashen-faced Commander Holloway. "We have an operational command to maintain."

"Aye aye SIR!"