Disclaimer: as in ch. 1
A/N: Hello, everybody! I'm back, finally! Sorry for taking so long for an update. The word "busy" hardly covered it, but here you go the part 8. Enjoy the story! Hope I can get more updates ASAP. So, cross your finger, folks. And Amy, thanks a lot for your help!
Part 8
0600 PST
23 December 2027
Aboard the USS Kennedy
Pacific Ocean
"Trey, the COD is ready for us!" yelled Lt. Fredrick 'Scabber' Wood, who was a good friend of his.
"I'm coming! I need to see the CAG first. Give me ten minutes," Trey called back as he hurried towards the ready room, entering it just in time to hear the CAG cursing at something.
"Lt. Rabb reporting as ordered, sir!" he announced, coming to attention.
"At ease, Trey. Are you ready to go?"
"Yes, sir. Here's the pilot log you wanted, and...umm...my father sent you these." Trey said awkwardly as he handed Captain James 'Jim' Boone two neatly-wrapped Christmas gifts.
It was no secret aboard the USS Kennedy who Harmon 'Hawk' Rabb, III, was. At first, Trey'd run into a lot of resentment. Wherever he went, he was always known as the son of a Navy Admiral and Marine General, a military brat. To his credit, he quickly proved that he didn't get his wings because of his father's connections, but because he'd earned them. Once he was up in the air, he was at his best, and his squadron mates began to accept him for what he was.
But, right now, he was more concerned by the annoyance on his CAG's face. "Something wrong, sir?"
"Keeter's down with some kind of bug, and so is half of the squadron. I need someone to go recon over China. I guess I'll have to go myself." Captain Boone sighed.
After a brief hesitation, Trey replied, "Let me go, sir."
The CAG eyed him suspiciously. "You?!"
"Why not?!" he bristled, ready to defend himself.
"Relax! Your COD is leaving in ten minutes, mister. That's why."
"I can still catch the evening COD. Let me go. I have a clean bill of health."
Boone stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding. "All right, Rabb, you can go. I just hope your mother doesn't have my six for this! I know you promised her this morning that you'd be home early."
"I'll explain to the Admiral and General for you, CAG." Trey grinned.
"You've got twenty minutes to suit up, Lieutenant!" The CAG tried to sound stern, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips at the mention of his father's dear friends.
"Aye, aye, sir!" Trey snapped to attention and quickly headed out.
----
0930 PST
Ready room aboard the USS Kennedy
Pacific Ocean
Trey returned to the Kennedy two hours later without incident.
"Trey, a cup of coffee?" Captain Boone offered.
"Thanks, CAG."
"Say, Trey, do you want an early trip home?"
"What do you mean, sir? The COD won't get here until 1500 hours." Trey quirked an eyebrow.
"Andrews needs a bird. Interested?" The CAG began to smirk as he watched the meaning sink into Trey's mind.
"Aye, Aye, sir!" A wide flyboy grin spread across his handsome face.
-----
1000 PST
USS Kennedy
Pacific Ocean
Five minutes into his flight across the Pacific Ocean, Trey reached to shut off his communication with the Kennedy when all hell seemed to break loose.
"Kennedy, we are taking fire! Repeat, we are taking enemy fire! Request immediate support," a distressed voice called frantically.
Trey immediately responded. "Kennedy, this is Navy Jet 4-8-7-0 outbound to Andrews, requesting permission to change course towards Taiwan."
The operative onboard ship, a young petty officer, glanced at the CAG briefly. "Sir?"
The CAG hesitated but nodded at last. "Clear him, Petty Officer."
"Navy Jet 4-8-7-0, this is Kennedy. Permission granted. Change your course towards Taiwan...and good luck, sir," the young petty officer quickly added.
"Roger that! Thanks."
"Hawk, you sure about this?" his RIO, Ensign Bryan 'Mouse' Price, called from the back seat.
"I'm sure. You with me on this, Mouse?"
"Lead the way, Hawk. I trust you, buddy!"
"Thanks, pal."
---------
Sky over the Straits of Taiwan
"Hawk, they're sending us a wingman from the Truman."
"Roger that, Mouse."
"Hawk! How about some help over here?" A voice crackled over his intercom.
"Squirrel? Is that you?" Trey was surprised to recognize the voice of his bunkmate, Lt. Darren Fox.
"The one and only. I need help, Trey. The Chinese are all over my six. I can't shake them!"
"Roger that. Engaging." Trey quickly maneuvered behind the dogfighting pilots. "Squirrel, break hard left, now!" he yelled as he fired his first missile. It was a direct hit.
"Good shot, Hawk," Squirrel yelled over the microphone.
Twenty minutes and four direct hits on the Chinese MIGs later, it was Trey's wingman that yelled. "Hawk, you've got MIGs all over your six. Pull up! Break hard right, now!"
Trey tried, but it was too late. The last thing Trey remembered was Squirrel shouting his name.
TBC….
AN: All right, guys, I need feedbacks here. A lot and lots of them would be nice. J
