Author's Note: Just thought I'd put something here… like a disclaimer, I suppose.  Actually, I don't need one; I'm really the CEO of Bellasarius Productions!!!  But, seriously, I don't own this series, and I ain't got much to sue for anyway…

2nd Author's note: The plot is going to start picking up in these next few episodes, although it might not make much sense at first.  It'll be a slow trickle to begin with, so just be patient.

3rd Author's note: I know this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but I couldn't find a better place to cut off between this chapter and the next.  Episode 8 should be a bit longer than average to compensate.

Episode 7:

Planning the Rotation

Harm's stomach dropped as "Sarah" suddenly whirled into a steep port side dive; her port side wing pointing directly towards the ground, eventually straightening… but into an equally steep level dive at about 70 degrees towards the heavily forested area below.

Harm prepared to shout a warning to his co-pilot as the trees neared, but about 50 feet from impact, the little biplane quickly leveled off, buzzing the tops of the tallest trees by mere feet.  From there, it was a quick and heavy climb back to an altitude of 7500 feet, pulling into an inverted scissors turn, before finally returning to a properly upright and level position.

Harrington saw the pale expression on Harm's face, and said into his headset.  "Gee, Harm, how did you survive flying a Tomcat?" He teased.

Harm refused to rise to the bait, saying instead, "I'm just not used to having someone in that front seat that knows what he is doing.  I've had some less than capable co-pilots in my day."

"I doubt Mac will appreciate that." Harrington replied.

Harm shook his head, "I wasn't exactly referring to Mac… but I suppose if the shoe fits." With a serious glare, Harm added, "And don't you dare tell her that, understand me, Major?"

"Understood, Commander!" Harrington laughed.  "So… have I shown you what you wanted to see?  Or is there some more tests to prove my mettle?"

Harm smirked, "No, Steve… I think you've made your point quite clear.  Maybe you airheads aren't all piss poor pilots.  You've proven some are… mediocre."

"Hey!" Harrington shouted in mock indignity, "What do they call an Air Force pilot that crashes in the ocean after a mission?"

"I don't know… what?"

"A Navy pilot."

"Hah hah." Harm said,  "I think you better land this thing back on the strip before I toss you out of that seat."

"Yes, sir!" Harrington replied with a smile, turning "Sarah" back in the direction of the airfield.  While Harrington appeared disappointed the flight was ending, in the back of his mind, he was glad it was almost over.  But with further thought, he also realized that this was good thing to do… it offered a sense of closure…

Upon landing, Harrington pulled off his helmet and gear, handing it to the strip operator.  Waiting for Harm to do the same, Harrington mused, "I wonder how your plane got its name…"

Harm stopped the conjecture before it even started, "It's coincidence.  It's also my grandmother's name."

Harrington nodded, "Ah… I didn't know your grandmother's name was spelled with an 'h' on the end."

"It is." Harm replied, then noticing Harrington's disbelieving smirk, reiterated, "It is."

"I believe you." Harrington replied in that tone that suggested he really didn't believe Harm at all.

Eventually Harm realized that the Major was merely giving him a hard time.  Finally dismissing the issue, Harm decided to change the subject.  "Did they let you pilot in the Air Force with your left hand?  That must have made operating instruments difficult."

Harrington froze, his pupils drawing narrow.  Taking a few deep breaths, he finally said sheepishly, "You saw that, huh?"

"That I did.  I know that you are left handed and all, but I didn't realize you were so preferential that it would make you invert your cockpit control."

"Actually, I wasn't born left-handed, I just turned out that way…"

Harm grew curious.  "How so?  I mean… I don't wish to pry…"

Harrington exhaled deeply, and sighed, "Actually, I might as well talk about it.  On my last test flight of the F-22… there was an on-board malfunction, and I had to eject.  My head struck the canopy as it blew off, and I was knocked unconscious.  Fortunately, the automatic chute deployed."

Harrington paused before finishing, "However, when I woke up… I learned that the blow to my head sent a neural shock into my system, paralyzing my right hand.  It took a few months of physical therapy, and I was able to regain most of the movement, but I'll never have the fine motor control that I used to."

Harm pursed his lips, "That's not fun… but knowing that sort of situation, you actually are quite lucky.  I know quite a few now departed pilots who would have taken your condition in a heartbeat.  It beats being dead."

"I know." Then Harrington shrugged, "It was my last test flight, anyway.  I had just passed my final bar exam the day before.  It's just a bit troubling when I think about flying again."

"You should have told me about that when I asked you, Steve."

"Actually, Harm, this was a good thing for me to do." Harrington answered.  "It was time I put those irrational fears aside."

"Always rolling with the punches, aren't you, my friend?" Harm chuckled.

"I have to.  I would have been a basket case before I turned 10 if I couldn't."

Harm shook his head, and slapped Harrington on the shoulder.  "Let's get out of here.  We'll need to make sure we're nice and rested up for tomorrow.  Word in the bullpen is that something big is coming in tomorrow."

JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA- 0900 EST, September 12

            Harm appeared to be right.  Upon entering the Admiral's office for the daily briefing, Harrington sensed that Admiral Chegwidden's mind seemed preoccupied, as if he was thinking carefully about something.

            "Well, two issues have come to my attention, and they are to be given priority above all other cases we currently have." The Admiral began.  "Major Harrington, you and Commander Rabb will have this assignment."

            Rabb took the folder, and began looking over the assignment.  "Problem, here, sir."

            "What is that?" Chegwidden asked.

            "I'm assuming you want Major Harrington to go undercover as the Naval Pilot?"

            "Yes, Commander.  What is the problem?"

            "Major Harrington has a partial paralysis of his right hand.  It would make it impossible to put forth an effective cover piloting."

            Chegwidden paused, then rubbed his temple.  "That's right… I had forgotten about that.  It appears that I'll have to do some swapping of assignments then…"

            Before the Admiral could continue, another person barged in on the briefing.  Clayton Webb bit his lower lip slightly as he stepped inside, and said, "I apologize for being late, Admiral.  Traffic can be a bear around here.  Have you gone over the cases brought in today yet?"

            "I was just getting to it, Webb.  But since you're here, I might as well let you take over."

            "Thank you, Admiral." Webb turned to face the assembled group of officers, and stopped as he spied Harrington standing behind Lt. Singer.  His eyes met with Harrington's, and the Major's mouth turned up in an evil smile.  "All right… as you all might have known, there are two specific assignments that I was given by the Director of the CIA that we need JAG's cooperation with."

            Webb continued to glance every so often in Harrington's direction as he began the briefing.  "The first involves what might be intentional sabotage on board the carrier USS Harry S. Truman.  Normally as a final testing ground for potential Navy aviators, several pilots have been injured, and two killed due to freak mechanical failures.  It's become too commonplace to be considered fluke failures.  One of you will go undercover as a piloting trainee, and get cheeky with the flight staff, while the other serves as a transferring flight instructor."

            "Gee, Webb… I figured getting 'cheeky' was your specialty." Harrington quipped.

            Chegwidden glared at Harrington for the interruption before motioning to Webb to continue with the briefing.  "The other case is a little more delicate.  It involves investigating a mid-air collision in London between a US F-18 Hornet and a RAF Tornado GR4.  Normally, this wouldn't be much of a problem, except that the two planes wound up crashing in nearby Windsor, and killed seven civilians."

            Webb closed his briefcase, and finished, "Two of you will accompany me to London to get to the bottom of this mess, and hopefully not find our boys at fault.  The US Military really doesn't want to get caught with their pants down on this one."

            Once again, Harrington couldn't resist, "Yes, you'd know all about getting caught with your pants down, wouldn't you, Webb?"

            Chegwidden had enough of the wisecracks, and finally demanded, "What is the meaning of your antics today, Major?"

            Harrington grinned mischievously, "Oh, I just had a little run in with Mr. Webb a couple years back, and…"

            "It's classified, Admiral…" Webb interrupted, stepping right in front of the Major.  "Very classified… am I clear, Major?"

            Harrington's grin grew even broader, until Mac was sure that the Air Force officer's jaw was about to dislocate.  "As clear as the sheen off your pasty, white mmmpf."

            Webb silenced Harrington by slapping his hand over the Major's mouth.  Meanwhile, the rest of the assembled officers reigned in all of their professionalism in order to simply maintain straight faces.

            Deciding it safe to withdraw his hand, Webb scowled before concluding, "As I understand, Major Harrington and Commander Rabb will head for the Harry S. Truman, and Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Sturgis will be with me."

            Admiral Chegwidden interrupted with a correction, "Actually, Webb, I had to alter the rotation slightly.  Major Harrington has a disability that would make it impossible for him to go undercover as a pilot.  Thus, I've decided that Commander Sturgis will stay here in Virginia, Lt. Singer will go undercover on the Truman with Commander Rabb, and Major Harrington will accompany you and Colonel MacKenzie in London."

            There were varied protests to that announcement, but the only one that Admiral Chegwidden took note of was from Lt. Singer, and only because it was a rather relevant one.

            "Sir, I've never flown any plane before, much less a Navy fighter jet." Singer stated.

            "You have two weeks before you depart, and you have two very capable pilots in this very office who can help get you acclimated to flying." Chegwidden explained.  "If those two flyboys can't get you ready, then no one can."

            "Ah, once you get used to the feel of flying a fighter, the rest isn't that hard, Lieutenant." Harrington assured her.  "Besides, you'll be spending your time in the air with Commander Rabb, and he can easily cover for any errors you may make on occasion."

            "Well, I'm glad you're confident about all this." Singer commented.

            "I don't know if this is going to work, Admiral." Webb complained.

            "It's the only way we could get this to work, Webb.  If your director wants the help of this department, this is the way it's going to have to be."

            Webb glared, but realized that he was caught.  There was no way that his director would allow these cases to continue without the assistance of the Judge Advocate General.  "Very well.  Just remember, we have a timeframe to follow.  If Lt. Singer isn't ready in two weeks, all bets are off."

            "She'll be ready, Mr. Webb… don't worry about having to return to your director with bad news." Chegwidden answered, and finally Webb left the office, obviously not very happy with the current assignments.  The Admiral addressed his officers simply, "That will be all.  Dismissed."

            The lawyers filtered out of the office one by one, but Chegwidden had one last message for one of them.  "Major Harrington, can I ask one thing of you?"

            Harrington stopped at the doorway, and replied, "Of course, sir."

            Chegwidden smiled.  "It appears that you somehow have gotten under Mr. Webb's skin.  I'd appreciate it if you made sure that you stayed there.  He's been long overdue for some good-natured grief."

            Harrington saluted, and said, "With pleasure, sir."

Appalachian Mountain Region, Virginia- 1540 EST, September 12

            For the second time today, Harm took "Sarah" for a flight, but this one had more serious purposes than simply showboating.  He had two weeks to get this career naval lawyer comfortable with the cockpit of a plane enough that she would be able to least fool the right people into thinking she was a bona fide navy pilot.

            Of course, he wasn't alone in the teaching, and Harm couldn't help but notice that Lt. Singer frequently turned to her other trainer for advice and encouragement.

            "How am I doing, Major?" Singer asked into her microphone.

            From the ground, Harrington replied, "You look good from here, Lieutenant.  Your speed and altitude look quite stable.  However, Commander Rabb probably has a better perspective… being right behind you anyway."

            Taking his cue, Harm added, "Just tilt the stick slightly to port, Lieutenant, and it'll level out your wings.  Other than that, I have to agree with Major Harrington, you're almost a natural."

            Singer smirked, "Well, that's good to hear.  Maybe I'll get a hang of this quicker than you expected."

            Harm was about to correct her, but Harrington did it for him.  "Let's not get too cocky now.  This is just a mere newborn cub compared to the beasts you're going to have to settle into in two weeks time."

            "Is that so?"

            "Lieutenant, a Tomcat has about 2000 times the power of this little girl.  You've pulled a 4 g dive 10 minutes ago… Tomcats frequently pull 7 or 8, and occasionally 9.  It has a top speed of over Mach 2.  It can turn a full 180 degrees in about the same radius as this plane… going almost 10 times as fast.  Not to mention the HUD and the various computerized systems…"

            "Okay!  Okay!" Singer shouted, "I get the point, sir!"

            From the ground radio, another voice cut in.  "I apologize for the intrusion Lieutenant, Commander, but I really have to borrow Major Harrington now." Mac stated.  "You know, he does have another case that is supposed to be getting the majority of his attention."

            "Sorry…" Harrington apologized, his voice sounding like he was a relative distance from the microphone.

            "It's quite all right, Mac, I think I can take it from here." Harm laughed, "Just don't beat up on the Major like you do all your other partners."

            "I'll try not to, Commander.  We shouldn't have a problem though; Major Harrington isn't half as obnoxious as you.  He's actually got a sound head on his shoulders."

            Harm couldn't help but slide in one little jab.  "Gee, sounds like you're already falling in love with our new friend."

            Mac wasn't fazed, "Maybe I am.  See you two flyboys later." The radio from the ground went silent, and it left Harm to focus on training Lt. Singer.  "Why don't we set down for the day?"

            "Actually, with your permission sir, I'd like to remain up here for another 15 minutes." Singer requested.

            Harm noticed the tension in Singer's voice, and he attributed it to one thing.  With a conspiratorial grin, he stated, "Mac was just being funny, Lieutenant.  She's not going to steal Major Harrington from you…"

            He couldn't see Singer's face from his position, but judging from her surprised yelp, he would have bet even money that she was blushing.  "You've… got it all wrong, sir.  I just…"

            "You just what, Lieutenant?"

            "I… I… need to go over the landing procedures, Commander.  Getting up here was all fine, but going back down makes me nervous."

            Harm nodded.  If she was tense about landing, then he was a jarhead.  "Very well, Lieutenant, let's run through this step by step.  First, check your airspeed… line up straight with the landing strip… ready your flaps…"

End Episode 7