Author's Note: There is no Mattie in this story; in this, Harm was called back to the Navy by the SECNAV as soon as the Navy got wind that he was cut adrift by the CIA. – And yes, I've painted Mac as an overwhelmingly self-centered bitch. Yes. I know…can you believe at one point I was a Harm/Mac Shipper?
Harm's Apartment , North of Union Station, Washington DC 0030hrs
Harm got woken up out of a sleep as a persistent knock on his door sounded. "Jeez!" he exclaimed irritatedly as he walked over to the door not even bothering with a robe. "Do you know what time it is?" he growled as he answered the door and rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Mac?" He blocked her entrance to his apartment making her stay out in the hallway.
"Looks like your wife is out late." Mac said irritatedly. "Or is it an open clause in your marriage that your wife has to be out at all hours of the night?"
"Well, Mac, you know exactly where she works, so frankly, the idea that she's out late at night when she's over at Langley looking over the mission parameters; isn't that unusual. Is there anything else you wanted to rake me over the coals for? Or can I get back to the rest I was trying to have before my 0400 wake-up and drive to Oceana. I have a mission to plan for and I don't have time to sit here flapping my gums carrying on a conversation with you." Harm gave her an irritated look. "Frankly, I think all you had to say, you said in Paraguay." Of course, this was about Mac. She didn't care that he had a gruelling three and a half hour drive to Oceana in the morning on minimal sleep and then had to plan a mission-critical flight plan for them to get over to Europe so that they could target Sadik Fahd – no, all this was about Sarah Mackenzie and what she wanted. And Harm was tired of giving her what she wanted because it was never enough.
"That's just it; Harm. You keep running away from us and you keep thinking that I can read your mind." Mac complained.
"Mac!" Harm snapped. "I have a mission to fly in three to five days to go after Sadik. I don't have time to deal with this while I'm due at Oceana at 0500hrs. And you say I keep running away from us…" he retorted bitterly. "You made it pretty damned clear, Colonel, that there was no us in Paraguay. So I'm moving on…"
"With that sham wedding?" Mac shot back equally bitterly.
"Good night! Colonel. I'll see you when I get back…at the office." the door closed and the snick-snick of a deadbolt being drawn closed informed Sarah Mackenzie that there would be no continued conversation that night. Swearing softly to herself, she ushered herself out the door of Harm's apartment and headed for her car.
Harm, behind the locked door, let out a held breath as he heard the footsteps go away from his door. Damn that Sarah Mackenzie. What right did that sanctimonious Marine have to question his "marriage"?
Harm's Apartment , North of Union Station, Washington DC 0130hrs
Harm groaned as the alarm went off. Rapidly grabbing his flight-suit and khaki oversea's cap with his rank-insignia on it, he dressed quickly and headed out the door, after locking it, with his seabag. Dumping it into the back of his Lexus, he got in the SUV, started it and engaged drive pulling out of his parking spot along the mostly deserted and dark street. It was going to be a long drive to Naval Air Station Oceana and he was going to make the most of the empty highway to put some speed on. Just so long as he didn't get pulled over by a cop.
NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA 0440hrs
It was three hours and ten minutes later at 0440 hours that Harm pulled up at NAS Oceana's gate and handed over his identification. The drive over took less time due to the sparse traffic on the highway heading down from DC; but Harm being the calculating driver that he was took his time due to fatigue and lack of sleep thanks to Colonel Mackenzie's interference.
"You're a little early this morning, sir?" the Marine corporal grinned at him.
"Well, Corporal. I've already had a three hour drive down from DC. I was told by COMNAVAIRLANT to be down here at 0500hrs. I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to make that appointment." Harm grinned.
"Well, sir. You're cleared. Go on through, sir."
"Thanks, Corporal." And ten minutes after that, he was walking through the door of the planning room where Animal stood quietly assessing maps along with two other flight-suit garbed crew – one of whom was giving him a great big smile.
"Morning, Commander Rabb." Animal said. "This is Commander Joe "Scooter" Willis; He's my RIO or WSO in the F/A-18Fs that we'll be flying. This here is Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth "Skates" Hawkes.
Harm busted out laughing. "I know Skates. She flew backseat for me in the Raptors."
"How you doing, shyster?" Skates grinned affably, "So the Hammer/Skates show is back in the air again."
"Looks like it is, Skates." Harm assured her. "At least for this mission."
"OK, you two, we got a mission to plan so you can have your reunion later." Animal snapped.
Just then the door opened and Clayton Webb walked in, "Admiral, here's the folders on the operation and the communications channels that you need for satellite uplink." He said as he passed the folder to Animal who gave him a caustic glare.
"You'd better not be snowing me, Webb, because you know what'll happen to you if you haven't been upfront with me." He threatened, his voice ominous with implication of dire consequences – his face making absolutely certain that it was not misread as to the direness of the warning.
"You'd better not piss Animal off." Harm warned the Langley operative, a sinister smile on his face not reaching his eyes."Because the last guy who pissed him off, he tied to a JSOW and launched him from an F/A-18 Charlie. I hear they're still picking pieces of him out of the T-62 target down at the range six years later."
"You're kidding me, right?" The terrified gulp in Webb's voice was apparent as he tried to restore color to his face after the blood all drained out, nearly leaving him pale as a ghost. "Tell me you're shitting me."
"Think of poor Mac if she hears you've pissed the admiral off." Harm said ominously encroaching on Webb's private space. "They won't find enough pieces of you to cremate. In fact…" he paused with an even more evil grin on his face. "They may find just enough to cremate you…in a matchbox." Webb fled.
"OK…Hammer, you done scaring the pee out of the spook?" Animal chuckled as he looked over at Harm who managed to look innocent.
"Didn't know spooks could pee." Harm grinned back at Animal. "I thought they lost that capacity to do so when they went to the other side." A snort of laughter ensued but gradually subsided over the implication of the mission ahead. Going over the mission parameters and the transit their short-legged F/A-18Fs were going to have to cover – the mission briefing took well over four hours and major points regarding their transit over the Atlantic were covered. They would be flying with external fuel tanks which they would exhaust first, but Animal planned to keep the island to island jumps well within the 3,340km maximum range of the Super Hornets they would be flying.
"Transatlantic hop is going to be from Oceana to Gander, Newfoundland, Canada, then from Gander to Reykjavik, Iceland then from Reykjavik to RAF Lakenheath…that'll put us in the UK." Animal said as he pointed towards each segment of the transatlantic hop or hopping the pond as they referred to the transit. "That way we don't have any air-to-air refuelling putting up a tanker that's vulnerable over open ocean. We island hop all the way from North America to Europe. And we'll have another meeting when we get to Lakenheath to map out our last leg from Lakenheath to our base of operations in Saudi Arabia…the last leg we'll take on fuel via air-to-air refuelling from Nimitz which is out in the Med conducting air operations. We'll transit the north-eastern section of Egypt then put our aircraft down in Saudi Arabia at Prince Abdullah Air Base at Jeddah. From there we will ascertain where the best use of our resources will be and whether we will get any assistance from the Saudis in going after Sadik."
"…and then blow that sonofabitch to hell…" Scooter replied as he looked over at his front-seater, "It's going to be a rough one; depending on what air defenses that Al Qaeda puts up."
Animal nodded soberly as Scooter scrawled the information down on his kneeboard. "He may not have the big ones, but he's certainly got access to a lot of small shoulder-mounted surface-to-air missiles and that's the main problem." He looked over at his RIO with a dour expression noting that same expression mirrored on the face of the others. "The problem with shoulder-mounted SAMs is their lethality from the forward quarter – not as good; they're primarily used against helos and slow-moving aircraft, but the 9K34 Strela-3, or as we know it the SA-14 Gremlin, has a much better forward aspect kill ability over the SA-7 which frankly stank and I'm sure that Al-Qaeda has gotten their hands on a few of those Gremlins. It is also rumoured that they have also taken delivery of SA-17 Gimlets or otherwise known as the improved Gremlin. Don't take anything for granted, be ready to drop flares and keep your head on a swivel. If one of those tags you unseen, you're going to be at the Pearly Gates strumming a harp." That information was a cold splash of water as Harm and Skates looked at each other, worry coloring their faces. "And then to really make your day just great, the loons from Langley have just informed us that that Sadik Fahd's forces have managed to get themselves a shipment of FIM-92 Stingers; I don't need to tell you just how effective the Stingers are versus jet aircraft." Animal overheard Harm telling Skates…
"I am so going to kill Webb." Animal snickered at Harm's comment.
After going through the transatlantic hop mission profile yet again, Animal told the crew to mount up – after getting kitted up, they walked out to the Oceana tarmac. Luckily for Harm he had recently been checked out on the F/A-18F Super Hornet and was able to mount up.
"Sure isn't like the Tomcat, is it, Hammer?" Skates commented dourly as she looked over at the lines of the F/A-18F.
"Nope." Harm stated, "Nothing's like the Tomcat and most of us aviators who flew her, well…it's the changing of the guard."
CIA HQ, Langley, VA
"You gave them everything, right?" Clayton Webb was accosted by Catherine Gale in the hallway as she caught up to him, her face flushed and her eyes demanding a straight-forward answer, but she wasn't going to get one, at least not from him.
"Need to know, Catherine, and you don't have a clearance high enough for that." Webb turned to look at her. "You're a lawyer, you pinch-hit for us in the courtroom. None of the operations stuff is anything that has a need-to-know for you. Was it Rabb that put you up to questioning this?" Webb knew that she was seeing the naval aviator, but didn't bother disguising his contempt of the man. Ever since Webb had gotten involved with Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, Rabb's and his working relationship had pretty much gone sour, then with Harm being fired by Clay – the trust between the two men, as negligible as it had been, had become zero.
Catherine just said primly, "Vested personal interest…and that's need to know and you don't need to know." Throwing that back in Clayton Webb's face, she fastened a gimlet stare at him, shook her head slowly and walked off. There were times when she hated that bastard. The field agents were a cagey bunch and weren't prone to talking about any operations. And damn Clayton Webb but he was right, she didn't need to know. All she could do was wait and pray that Harm made it home, safe. But she knew that Harm was going into danger and hated that all she could do was sit there while the Company she worked for obfuscated and bluntly put, lied their way out of responsibility for any screw-ups that could potentially happen which could potentially cost the life of the man that she hoped that she could eventually make a life with.
Sometimes, Catherine Gale, CIA attorney, thought; it sucked being a spook. Perhaps it would be better if she turned in her resignation and took up a private law practice for a firm. At least then she could make some decent money and she and Harm and her little one would be safe. She snorted in derision of the idealistic idea. Like Kershaw would let her just pack up and leave. Like the mob, she was in till death. And decidedly she knew too many of the Agency's secrets.
Faced with all that…her only response was to smile ruefully and place a hand on her tummy where her daughter lay curled up inside developing. And at that thought, the usually driven and career-motivated Catherine Gale smiled in a tableau of maternal tenderness. Catherine would protect her daughter with her life if it came down to it.
NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA 0945hrs
It was almost 1000hrs by the time preflights and checklists were completed and the two VFA-213 Black Lions F/A-18Fs were in the air.
"Black Lion 206; Black Lion 208, on my wing." Regardless of whether he was the COMNAVAIRLANT or not, Animal didn't want to step on anyone's toes by taking 200 (the CAG's bird) or 201 (the squadron commander's bird), but needing two F Super Hornets (the two seaters), he requisitioned the lo-vis Black Lion aircraft.
Harm radioed. "Black Lion 208…copy."
Pointing their noses on a heading that would direct them over Nova Scotia enroute to Gander Newfoundland, they flew welded wing - ETA at 1140 hrs in Newfoundland, considering that they would be pressing the sound-barrier at 1111.3km/hr or 600 knots airspeed. They would refuel in Gander then proceed to Reykjavik, Iceland.
Gander International Airport & CFB Gander, Gander, NL 1140hrs
The two F/A-18Fs landed one after the other at Gander, Newfoundland. That definitely caused a commotion on the Canadian airport ramp. During the refueling process which would end up taking about two to three hours, Harm, Skates, Scooter and Animal went to go sit in the cafeteria; still fully suited up, less their flight helmets and oxygen-masks. Grabbing a quick salad from concession; Harm downed it, barely suppressing a yawn as he did so – thanks to Mac he hadn't had much of a sleep and the damned transatlantic flight was going to take a lot of energy out of him. He tried to mask his fatigue but Skates noticed.
"You look like you could use a few hours in the rack. Hammer. It's surprising you're not bouncing your head off the table here." She said quietly to him when Animal and Scooter were off gazing out at the airport tarmac watching the people-haulers.
"Yeah, thanks to Mac wanting to discuss the minutiae of her love-life and why we couldn't connect…" he snorted derisively, "I didn't get much sleep…"
Skates shook her head, she knew too many people like Mac, self-centered and only wanting what she wanted and not caring about how what she wanted would affect others in her social circle. Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, judging from what Skates had seen of her, struck her as a obsessively driven career-oriented woman, but selfish – the only thing that counted to her was the ability to be able to win competitively. Skates knew she, herself, was competitive, but that competitiveness was balanced by her ability to care for her fellow man (or woman) as the case could be. And standing outside Harm's door at just after midnight and ranting about how she was affected when she knew damned well that he had a critical mission the next day pretty much sealed the deal that Mackenzie was off her rocker.
Harm on the other hand, tried to keep from yawning. He tried to concentrate on the mission – he had to focus, he couldn't fly a high-performance jet fighter if he was yawning his head off. And they had to be in London by nightfall. As it was, it was still another eight hour hop across the Atlantic and they had only finished their first leg yet and they were still in North America.
"Look, Harm…if you can't do it, we're going to have to tell the admiral. He can delay a day while you rest up. The mission isn't so mission critical that we have to get there today."
"Look, Skates, I can do this…" Harm objected as he looked at Skates with a drop it look. "I just need to make sure that I'm ready to go…when the admiral says go. We have to punch out of here in an hour and make Reykjavik – and another two hour refueling stop there, then punch through to RAF Lakenheath. I'll get my sleep there then be up bright and bushy-tailed for our flight to Jeddah."
"Yeah, well, just remember, if we have to ditch…we have a life expectancy of 15 minutes and I don't want to ditch a Superbug in the North Atlantic." Skates countered Harm's self-assessment of his abilities. "I'm your WSO…and if I have to I'm going to let the admiral know that we're going to have to extend his timetable due to the fact that your sleep was disrupted – we may overnight in Reykjavik if you look any more tired by the time we wheels-down there. Hammer, I don't need you collapsing from fatigue."
"Noted."
"Hammer, you may be my superior officer on the ground, but up there, we're a crew - so cut the bullshit. If you're too tired to hack the hop, then say so." Skates' eyes were angry. "My job up there is to keep you from digging a hole and I'm fucking well going to do it!"
"What's the problem, Skates." Animal said as he and Scooter walked up.
"Nothing…" Harm tried to insist.
"Why does that sound like a load of crap? Harm." Animal growled ominously. "How long were you up last night? And like Skates said. Cut the bullshit!" His voice cracked like a bullwhip. "You may outrank Skates but you don't outrank me. Are you flying fatigued? Yes or No!?" His eyes turned obsidian cold – surprising for brown eyes. "You are flying a mission fatigued…and you failed to notify me of that? I don't need you dumping an eighty million dollar aircraft in the North Atlantic. Right now we are flexible. When we get to London and I make the call in that we're wheels up – there's no turning back because we have assets in the air that we have to make the rendezvous with. You need sleep – you get it here and I'm going to insist that we do. I'll clear it with Lieutenant Colonel Randall, Wing Commander CFB Gander to tow our birds to the 9 Wing flightline. Maybe that'll scare some of them maple syrup sucking helo-pukes and show 'em what a real bird is then I'll get on the horn with Kershaw. You find us a hotel and find us someplace to get some decent eats. But you and I are going to talk about your reticence to disclosure, later…"
"Yes, sir!" Seeing the backside of Animal heading off to talk to 9 Wing Commander, RCAF; and groaned. Harm knew he was in serious shit from Animal as flying fatigued was a potential court-martial offense. But luckily he knew that he would just get a serious ass-chewing from Animal prior to their leaving for their hotel. He knew that semi-good mood of Animal's wouldn't last.
CFB Gander, NL; Hangar 1, 103 Sqn. Royal Canadian Air Force; 1230 hrs
"LOCK IT THE GODDAMNED HELL UP, MISTER!" Animal's voice reverberated from the rafters of the hangar causing RCAF maintenance techs to look up in amusement. Animal looked about as maniacal as a drill instructor at basic training – he was absolutely vibrating with pent-up rage. In fact Harmon Rabb Jr hadn't seen Animal this pissed off since Jack Keeter had damned near-pranged an F-14 at RAG. Harmon Rabb stood stock still, hands at his side, at the position of attention. Animal circled him like a predator, once, twice…three times. A trickle of sweat rolled down Harm's brow. When Animal spoke next, it was an ominously low growl. "Just what aborted thought process made you think that you could get into a goddamned eighty million dollar aircraft when you were so goddamned falling down tired that you could barely keep from bouncing your head off the table? You'd don't own that Superbug! The Department of the Navy and by extension the taxpayers allow you to borrow that Superbug. And not only that…" Animal growled. "It wasn't by your admission that you were fatigued. I found out when your Weapons Systems Officer ended up having to grill you!"
He paced back and forth for a long moment then roared "DO YOU KNOW JUST EXACTLY HOW BIG OF A PROBLEM IT WOULD BE IF YOU DITCHED AN EIGHTY MILLION DOLLAR AIRCRAFT IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC!?" Harm kept his mouth shut, this was a rhetorical question – and the answer came soon enough in a stentorian bellow. "I'LL BE WRITING ACCIDENT REPORTS AND GETTING MY ASS GRILLED BY COMNAVAIRPAC AND THE CNO TILL I'M FUCKING OLD AND GREY!" And Animal sinisterly leaned in; a maniacally crazy expression on his face. "…and you know what else holds true, Commander?" Harm gulped, shaking his head – now was not the time to be a smart-ass. "SHIT TRICKLES DOWNHILL! Which means that once you are fully rested you will be helping said Royal Canadian Air Force 103rd maintenance techs to go over our aircraft for our next leg of the journey with a FINE TOOTH COMB!" The last was yelled at full-volume directly in Harm's face. "AM I CLEAR!?"
"yes; sir…"
"I DIDN'T HEAR YOU!"
"YES…SIR!"
"I'M GOING DEAF IN MY OLD AGE! WHAT WAS THAT?!" If someone could look enraged and sarcastic at the same time – Animal was certainly doing a great job at that – and still able to yell at the same volume as before.
"SIR…YES SIR!"
"I thought so…" Animal growled, his voice ominously low. "IF you so much as try to crawl into another aircraft this exhausted, I will first write up an Article 32 for court-martial under Article 110 - hazarding an military vessel/aircraft and THEN I WILL FEED YOUR GODDAMNED ASS TO A GREENLAND SHARK! DO YOU READ ME!" The last was shouted at surprisingly a louder volume than before.
"YES SIR!" Harm trembled – This was no AJ Chegwidden verbal blast. It was ten times worse.
"DISMISSED!"
"AYE AYE SIR!" Harm about-faced and damned near fled for the accommodations provided by 103rd Squadron.
Scooter peeked out of the office and enquired. "Is it safe to come out?"
Animal grinned sarcastically. "Well…I feel better now."
CFB Gander, NL; Visiting Officer's Quarters, 103 Sqn. Royal Canadian Air Force; 1240 hrs
Skates looked over at Harm who looked like he was trembling and shaking from the grilling that Animal had just given him. "So…did you survive?" she asked.
"Yeah…it was a close call."
"He was right, you know…" Skates stated.
"Yeah, I know. What I need to do is get something in my stomach and then get some uninterrupted sleep for about 12 hours. – It's going to be an early morning…" Harm replied as his face began to regain some color and headed for the cafeteria to get some food.