I don't know the full terrain of this area of Afghanistan no do I know fighter pilot ejection procedures or US SERE tactics, so apologies for any errors.
East of Taleqan, Afghanistan
Ejecting from an extremely fast-moving fighter jet, especially a damaged one, is no child's play. Skates was naturally trained in ejecting from any fighter aircraft even damaged ones. Aircraft fuel sometimes cannot catch fire even if you throw a lit cigarette into it, but this time, Skates' Super Hornet was unlucky. Even with the fire spreading fast from the hit engine, she immediately quickly followed the ejection procedures for damaged aircraft. Automatically, straps whipped around hr, drawing her arms and legs firmly in against the seat frame to prevent injury from the immense force. She felt grabbed by her shoulders and next thrown upwards, at thirty times the force of gravity – 30g, simultaneously hearing the massive roaring noise from the seat-rocket motors. The smaller parachute called the drogue deployed first, stalling her and the seat, then seat came straight and the main parachute deployed. As the latter did, the seat finally fell off automatically and Skates descending, with her survival pack dangling between her legs.
Naval Forces Europe/US Sixth Fleet Headquarters side room
Early Afternoon
Harm had given hundreds of presentations, arguments for and against a range of navy personnel but rarely found himself on the 'questioning' end. Now he sat along with a JAG Lieutenant Commander facing several LCD screens with a dozen Senators staring down at him.
"This special Senate Committee session will come to order," Senator Fernadez banged his gravel. More like a pussycat than a Senator Harm thought. He regurgitated what he knew about Harm's past controversial past activities and considered that the committee members censure him. The ranking member, a centre-left occasionally Independent-leaning, rattled off a rebuttal that was a little below average in Harm's view. "The floor is yours Commander, you can give your speech, if any," Fernadez nodded.
"Senator Fernadez, Ranking Member Fallon, after decades of distinguished service, it is very unusual for me but let me start. Despite a crash landing on an aircraft carrier, I continued in the Navy as a JAG officer," Harm intentionally twisted his hands to show his JAG insignia to the Senators. "In my first year, I and a fellow JAG successfully solved why a female Radar Intercept Officer was murdered, stopped a rogue civilian tech from launching an experimental torpedo, and diffused international conflicts in Peru, Iraq the Hong Kong- Chinese border." Harm moved to his second to fourth years, stating his success in retrieving the Declaration of Independence, why an arrogant female naval aviator was grounded but refrained from recounting how he fired a MP5K-PDW in a courtroom. He quickly moved on to his third and fourth years, summarising his court martial cases, highlighting how he investigating a SEAL's actions to award him the Medal of Honor, his first foray with a rogue Defense Security Division agent, his forays internationally to solve cases in in fourth year, and especially dealing with a former sail turned murderer of children.
On the ground East of Taleqan, Afghanistan
Skates had landed using a parachute safely before—once because Harm thankfully caught her parachute, the second time, because she was pulled out of the sea by the SAR helicopter. This time, she landed naturally at a fast speed down on not just hard but slightly rocky ground.
As her parachute covered her, her adrenaline increased and she quickly pushed the 'blanket' away and undid her left flight boot. Ow, she groaned, it really hurts. Struggling, she found her emergency medical kit and found an ankle guard and yanked it up. Initially she tried to wear back her socks but that increased the pain so she stuffed it in one of her flight pockets and loosely tied back her boot. Ok, ok, Skates thought, this is just another day in the office. Just signal the nearest NATO aircraft Where's the damn, she found her SAR radio and radioed "Blue Jay One, X-Ray Zero," she used the daily code for fighter pilot down and repeated twice and gave her location with additional three degrees to confuse any enemy trackers. She checked the rest of her survival gear -water and ration, check, rest of medical kit, check, raft that can be inflated but useless, check, tent, check, flares, flashlight but dented, foldable shovel check, knife check and the dreaded Beretta M9 along with its spare clip check. It was amazing how much gear there was.
Skates used the knife to cut away her parachute and her survival bag. The terrain was that appropriate for burying them, but with the shovel, she managed to dig hole big enough to bury the items along with the shovel; she didn't think it would be needed. Taking a bite of the rather sticky and sweet ration and a gulp of water, she activated the radio again and sent the same messages. Maybe I could get a better signal if I move up that hillock, she thought.
USS Wade McClusky
Hours later
"All aircraft back and secured except one sirs," the Air Boss, Commander Tom Shapes radioed to the bridge and signed a form.
"One?!" The CAG Captain Stuart Sheffield question as he entered the Air Operations area. "Which?"
"VF-12 001," came the reply. "That's Hawkes' Super Hornet, wait this," he held up the daily tasking order "she's not on the order. We're supposed to be sailing away. Is there a mix up? Find…"
"Sir," A Lieutenant Commander pop in and directed herself towards the CAG. "Admiral Ingles would like to see you in his quarters and you alone. And Air Boss sir, the Shrike Group Commander wishes you to carry on as usual." Both senior officers raised their eyes but the CAG simply headed to the admiral's personal quarters. Ingles told him to shut the hatch them summarised what was Skates' mission actually was and there was no radio contact with her after her last signal 'Blue Jay, Falcon, approaching green.' "I want you to co-ordinate search and rescue missions with NATO Air Forces Afghanistan," Ingles further described how Skates's lone mission came from a shadowy intelligence agent whom went missing and search across the carrier was happening. Sheffield asked more questions but the admiral himself gave limited answers. Sheffield still accepted the task, really worried for on of his top squadron COs.
Back on the ground East of Taleqan, Skates managed to climb the hillock despite her burning sprained ankle. She was about to draw out her radio to send the same message when she heard a sound. Down below in the small valley was a young kid.
The boy was just kicking stones here and there, almost like playing English football. Skates made a split-second decision, which well, she really regretted much later. She half ran half rolled down the next slope. Approaching him, she smiled and said, "Sahaar mo pa kheyr," or Good Morning in Pashtun—all NATO pilots were trained in basic Pashtun. It was still before noon. He looked up, staring blankly at her and stopped kicking. He continued staring directly at her, as if suddenly frozen. Ok, reaching into her pocket, she pulled out one of her US Armed Forces local language cards. Shifting closer, she pointed at the card which had Pashto written on it. "Me... American..." she said, hoping he could read the words. Still no response from the boy. "Can... you help me?" This was still in broken Pashtun
Ok, definitely not going to... suddenly the boy's mouth move. "Hello," she said again, this time in English. "Can..." suddenly, his right arm raised up and index finger pointed at her. "Yes? You..." She turned around to see a man slightly taller than her advancing. Then another, and another. "Sahaar mo pa kheyr..." she repeated herself to them, waving her hands. "I..." before she knew it, she felt the shape of a gun barrel pressed against her back. The boy had closed in on her, an AK-74 assault rifle in his hands. Uh-oh. Skates deflected the first blow from one of the men behind her but the next two blows threw her face down on the coarse soil. Cold steel barrels were pressed against her head and back.
Skates suddenly remembered her SERE course trainer as one who started the course by reading accounts of Vietnam War POW accounts. She always thought most of them were overly exaggerated and day dreamed away during the 'story telling'. Now, she wished she had never done that. Already, she failed the first E in SERE, letting herself be easily tricked by what appeared to be an innocent little kid. The men and that boy not only had stripped her on her survival gear but forced her down with their boots. Skates naturally had her share of bullying, near physically assaults and harassment during her time as a naval officer. Yet, she was highly unprepared for a gaggle of Taliban—they must be Taliban—men probing her body and having sandy and muddy boots pressed against her neck. That wasn't the worse part of it. They roughly bound her wrists tightly with coarse rope tied a huge piece hood over her head. Dragged up, she was forced marched with the AK barrels against her back. Adding with her slightly injured ankle, her day was getting from bad to worse.
After what she mentally judged was about 20 minutes of horrendous walk, she heard even more voices chattering around her and surmised that she was at their hideout, wherever that was. The boy prodded her yet again and despite the blindfold, she judged by the changing light that she was entering a building or even a cave of some sort. Suddenly arms reached forward and carried her down, probably moving down some steep steps she thought. Finally, she was crudely thrown onto a stone surface, thankfully landing on her side and not her face. Her flight boots laces were cut off, the boots crudely yanked off, naturally increasing the pain to her left ankle. The gaggle of voices continued and then with a loud bark, they stopped.
Skates heard a door clang shut then open and she immediately moved back, attempting a defensive stance. That was easier said than done, given her bound hands, hood and the lethargy building up in her. Hands roughly grabbed her once again and her muffled cries and her struggles were useless as she was carried up. Suddenly, she felt a wooden hard surface against her buttocks and then the same coarse rope binding around her waist and ankles. Her blindfold was torn off, but before she could speak, a large cloth was wound and tied around here mouth. Skates rapidly blinked her bruised eyes a new figure entering, chomping on a small cigar, then throwing it on the ground and bursting into laughter.
To be continued.