Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Disney. All OCs belong to me.
Chapter 12
The next morning, Sara arrived safely at Navel Air Station North Island, only to find out that the Flysenhower had left half an hour earlier.
"I've been flying all night!" Sara complained to the base commander as she was quickly refuelled. "Couldn't they have waited for me?"
"Sorry, but they're on a very tight schedule," the commander apologised. "They're only going at half speed for now, so you should be able to catch up with them within the hour if you hurry."
Grumbling crossly, Sara took off again as soon as she'd been given permission to do so. She blinked a few tears away from her eyes. The events of the past fifteen-odd hours had left her completely exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It had been incredibly difficult for her to say goodbye to all of her new friends at Piston Peak – especially Blade. The more she thought about him, the more she realised just how much she'd come to like him. Now, the thought of even returning to her base made her feel sick. Especially since she now knew what Commander Grayson's intentions were towards her.
Maybe I could put in for a transfer, Sara thought miserably. Somewhere closer to Piston Peak, so I can visit everyone whenever I want to.
Then, there'd been her mission to deliver the injured boy's parents to the hospital. While she'd been somewhat relieved to learn that the boy's condition had been downgraded from critical to serious, he was still in a very bad way. Infection had set in, and he hadn't responded to anything since he'd been admitted. It was also very likely that if the boy survived, he'd require a prosthetic axle for the rest of his life. While it was still unclear just how the boy had ended up falling into the river, everyone was hopeful that he'd regain consciousness soon, so he could give everyone the answers.
With a heavy sigh, Sara tried to concentrate on her flight path. Below her, the sea glistened like a sheet of glass. Above her, there was nothing but a cloudless blue sky. On the horizon, the sky and sea touched so perfectly it was almost impossible to see just where they met. It was such a beautiful day, and yet it could do nothing to brighten Sara's mood.
"HH-60J 6040. This is November India Kilo Echo. Do you copy? Over?"
Sara exhaled deeply upon hearing the voice come in over her radio. "HH-60J 6040 copies, November India Kilo Echo. Over."
"We've located you on our radar. Do you have us in sight yet? Over."
Glancing into the blue horizon, Sara could just make out the dark form of the Flysenhower off to her left, in the distance. "Affirmative. Over."
"You have permission to enter restricted airspace. Our lookout has just confirmed that they can see you. Stay in a holding pattern until we give you permission to land. Over."
"I'm starting to run low on fuel. Request permission for a priority landing. Over."
There was static for a moment, but then the same voice replied, "Permission granted, HH-60J 6040. Have you ever landed on a moving aircraft carrier before? Over."
"Affirmative. I've done it twice during my basic training, but I'll admit I wasn't very good at it. Over."
"Copy that. We'll have medics on stand-by, just in case. Out."
Sara continued her steady approach to the Flysenhower. Once she was close enough, she fell into the holding pattern behind a Boeing F/A-18E Super Hornet. On the flight deck, she could see various crew members and pitties hurrying around, ensuring that there was plenty of room for her to land, just in case it ended up being a crash landing.
"HH-60J 6040, you have permission to land, over."
"Copy that. Over."
"Follow the LSO's directions from now on. Out."
Breaking out of the holding pattern, Sara descended smoothly towards the flight deck. The LSO (Landing Signal Officer) held up yellow-coloured batons in his arms, signalling that it was safe for her to attempt a landing. Remembering everything she'd ever been taught about landing on a moving runway, Sara did the best she could. Her landing was a little rough, but the LSO seemed to be happy with it, because he signalled for her to shut down her engines.
Once Sara was safely off the runway, Captain Carler, a forklift painted in his shipboard uniform colours, approached her.
"Lieutenant Chopper?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm Captain Carler. Welcome aboard the Dwight D. Flysenhower. I'm sorry we couldn't wait for you. You'll understand that we are under a tight schedule. Let me show you to your quarters."
"Thank you, sir," Sara said appreciatively.
Captain Carler escorted Sara over to one of the elevators. A moment later, they were down in the depths of the Flysenhower. Sara followed Captain Carler through a huge hanger, and into a much smaller back room. She was surprised by just how bare this room was.
"Aren't you going to let me stay with the other aircraft?" she asked him nervously.
"I'm afraid not," Captain Carler replied as several pitties also entered the room. Captain Carler turned to face Sara. "Lieutenant Sara Chopper. As of now…" He glanced at his watch. "…1105 hundred hours, I am relieving you of all military duties, and I am placing you under arrest on the charge of being absent without leave. Do you have anything you wish to say? Bear in mind that anything you do say will be used against you in evidence at your court-martial."
Sara was too shocked to say anything. In fact, she was so shocked, she didn't even feel the heavy chains the pitties were securing around her axles. The chains were bolted securely to the floor, ensuring she couldn't escape.
Sara gulped in a vain attempt to moisten her throat, which had suddenly gone dry. "Sir! Commander Grayson said I wouldn't be court-martialled!"
"Commander Grayson is the one who ordered me to place you under arrest," Captain Carler replied evenly.
Sara was too stunned to even think. Commander Grayson had betrayed her! And all because she'd refused his advances.
"Is she secured?" Captain Carler asked the pitties.
"Yes, sir. I'd defy a 747 to get out of these chains," one of the pitties replied.
"Good. Make sure she receives everything she needs."
"We will, sir," another pitty replied, saluting the Captain.
"Just remember, she's only being charged with going AWOL. She hasn't been convicted yet. If I find that any of the men have so much as laid a tyre on her, they'll also be arrested. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly, sir!"
With a nod, Captain Carler left, followed by the pitties. The heavy door was closed and locked, leaving Sara all alone, in the dark, with just the light from a porthole in the wall behind her for her to see by. She'd never felt more alone than she did now.
Up on the bridge of the Flysenhower, Captain Carler settled down with a cup of coffee, alongside his second-in-command, Commander Jenkins.
"Lieutenant Chopper has been secured in the hold," he reported. "We'll keep her there until I can figure out what to do with her."
"I thought you'd agreed to hand her over to Vice-Admiral Mercedes once we'd docked in Florida for supplies in a few weeks?" Commander Jenkins said with an air of surprise.
"I was… But you see, I went through her record last night. You know how I like to know the service record of everyone who comes aboard my ship. Anyway, I found some anomalies."
"Oh, yeah?" Commander Jenkins leaned forwards. "Such as?"
Captain Carler picked up Sara's file from the pile of paperwork on the desk in front of him. He passed it over to Commander Jenkins. "As you can see, Lieutenant Chopper has been in the army for eight years – two years of basic training, and six years with the Coast Guard serving as a Search and Rescue helicopter. She's completed over five hundred missions, with most of them being civilian ocean rescues. I must say, I'm very impressed with her record. But, take a look at the last entry."
"'October fifteen'," Commander Jenkins read aloud. "'Successful recovery of six crew members from sinking trawler during Hurricane Jasper. Trawler captain drowned. Three month leave pass issued.' Well, what's so strange about that?"
"According to the official records, Lieutenant Chopper is supposed to still be on leave. She has just over two months left."
"So?"
"So, why did her CO practically order me to have her arrested for going AWOL as soon as she landed on my ship's deck?"
"Ahh… I see what you're driving at. Has she denied being AWOL?"
"No, which is surprising. In fact, her very words to me were. 'Commander Grayson said I wouldn't be court-martialled'. Which seems very odd for her to say. It's as though she was expecting to be arrested, but Grayson told her she wouldn't be."
"Because she's supposed to be on leave?"
"Exactly. Obviously, someone's not telling the truth around here. And there's another thing!"
"What? There's more?"
"Yes. If Lieutenant Chopper had gone AWOL, why would she choose to come back of her own free will? She even sounded like she was keen to return. I heard her over the radio myself. And before you ask, yes, I did record the conversation. I'm not happy with this. This whole situation is just screaming alarm bells for me."
"Who do you think isn't telling the truth?"
"I don't know yet," Captain Carler frowned. "But I intend to find out!"
Back down in the hold, Sara was struggling to hold back her tears, when she heard a loud 'click' as someone unlocked the door of her cell. A few seconds later, a petty officer entered. Without saying a word, he set a large can of oil down in front of her, and then he left, closing and bolting the door securely behind him.
In the bleakness of the cell, Sara finally let her tears fall. How could everything have gone so wrong?