JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
U.S. Navy Commander Meg Austin sits in her desk in her private office as she looks over some reports and documents. The Navy lawyer is currently looking over some cases. She had been assigned to JAG Headquarters for the past four years, since her promotion to commander.
"Commander Austin," says a young male voice. Meg sees a young man in a blue jumper standing at her door. His s;leeve markings identifiy him as a seaman first class. "General Cresswell requests you. It's urgent, ma'am."
"Thank you, Seaman Culp," says Meg. "I'll be right there."
The commander walks out across the main office towards the private office of the U.S. Navy's Judge Advocate General. She notices three people inside the office. Two men stand on the carpeted floor, one of them wearing a suit, and the other wearingh a Navy dress uniform, the sleeve markings identifying him as a commander. Standing behind the desk at full attention is a man in an olive-green Marine dress uniform. The two silver stars on each shoulder identify him as a major general in the U.S. Marine Corps.
"Commander Austin reporting as ordered," says Meg, standing at attention.
"Welcome," says the man in the suit, his voice sounding like gravel. Meg recognizes him as Edward Sheffield, the Secretary of the Navy.
"Mr. Secretary," she says. "What may I do for you?"
"General, now that Commanders Turner and Austin are here," says the SecNav, "go brief them on the situation."
"Yes, sir," says Major General Gordon M. Cresswell, the Judge Advocate General of the United States Navy. "A few hours ago, a British F/A-18 Hornet crashed into a crowd of spectators on an air base just outside of London. There are two reasons we are involved. Tghe pilot of the plane was part of a joint American and British aerial acrobatic team. The British military is considering the wider use of the F/A-18 Hornets already adopted by our Navy and Marine Corps. One of our own was also killed. Vice Admiral Ben Siegel, a former naval aviator who was assigned to HQ, Naval Forces, Europe. The judge advocate for Naval Forces Europe has requested personnel from JAG Headquarters. As a courtesy, I am sending you two TAD to London."
"This incident has generated much international attention," says Sheffield. "I've been in contact with Britain's Defence Ministry. You'll be working with British naval investigators."
"Your flight will leave tonight," says the general. "better get yourself prepared. I will reassign your current caseloads"
"Aye aye, sir," says the two commanders.
"I guess I had better reschedule my week," says Commander Sturgis Turner, walking through the main office.
"Neither of us have gone anywhere for months," says Meg. "And this is very important."
As the two commanders start preparations for their flight across the Atlantic Ocean, Edward Sheffield looks around the main office, seeing the Navy and Marine Corps lawyers and paralegals walking around or sitting at their desks. He approaches a Marine captain.
"Excuse me," he says. "Is Lieutenant Commander Bud Roberts available?"
"I think he's in the law library, sir," replies the captain.
After getting diurections to the library, Secretaryt Sheffield enters the library, a huge room with bookshelves of law books. He sees a man in a Navy uniform reaching for a book.
"Good afternoon, Commander Roberts," says Sheffield.
"Sir," says Lieutenant Commander Bud Roberts, recognizing the Secretary of the Navy whom he had worked with on more than one occasion. "How may I help you?"
"How are your checkups at the hospital?"
"Fine, sir."
"I might be able to help you. The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency is doing research into cybernetic technology. Congress had increased funding for it since last year."
"Cybernetic technology?" asks the commander. "Like artificial legs?"
"Legs, arms, eyes. Maybe even something to compensate for brain damage. I'm offering a position to volunteer as a test subject for a new artificial leg. I only read about it but the initial results are promising."
"I've a lot of work to do here, sir," says Bud.
"I understand, Commander. At least here what they have to say. They're at the hospital in Bethseda. You already go there for checkups, so it should not take up too much of your time. Just hear them out."
"Is there anything else, Mr. Secretary?"
"No," he replies.
"Have a good afternoon, sir," says Bud.
ooooooooooooo
2504 ZULU
ROBERTS RESIDENCE
That evening, Bud Roberts decides to turn in for the night. After brushing his teeth with Aqua Fresh toothpaste, he sits on his bed in the master bedroom, removing his artificial leg and placing it on the carpeted floor.
"Had a good day, Bud?" asks Harriet Simms Roberts, who has been Bud's wife for the past seven years. "I've spent the whole day chasing the kids around."
"I spoke with the SecNav today," replies Bud, lying down on the bed.
"Was it classified?" asks his wife.
"No. He told me abpout this research project into artificial limbs. I'm gonna be a test subject."
"A test subject?"
"They're doing tests at Bethseda."
"What are you going to do, Bud?"
Bud looks at Harriet. "I'll talk to them tomorrow."
He soon goes to sleep, wondering what tomorrow will bring.
ooooooooooooooo
DAY 2
1006 ZULU
HEADQUARTERS, NAVAL FORCES EUROPE
LONDON, ENGLAND
"Here we are, Commanders," says the third class petty officer who is driving the Ford Crown Victoria. "Are you all right?"
"We're fine," replies Sturgis.
He and Meg had spent hours inside a U.S. Navy C-130 Hercules. It was cold and dark when they boarded the plane, and for most of the flight they were asleep. They had not had anything to eat since their flight.
The two Navy lawyers step out of the car and looks towards the building housing the headquarters of U.S. Naval Forces, Europe.
"I'll take you to the captain," says the petty officer.
"Lead the way," says Meg.
"Yes, ma'am."
They walk along the hallway, with enlisted sailors saluting them as they pass by. They enter the main office of the Judge Advocate. The main office is very much like JAG Headquarters, except smaller. Three television sets are mounted on the wall, broadcasting news programs about yesterday's tragedy. Not surprisingly, the office looks busy, with lawyers and paralegals walking around carrying file folders, or sitting down speaking on telephones.
The sailor leads the two commanders to a private office.
"Captain, Commanders Turner and Austin are here," he says.
"Dismissed," replies the captain.
"Aye aye, sir."
The office is similar in decor to General Cresswell's office, with a carpeted floor, wood-paneled walls, a wooden desk in the back, and American flag hanging from a flagpole in the back. It is a fitting office for a United States Navy captain. Sturgis and Meg only pay less than a second of attention to their surroundings. Their focus is the man sitting behind the desk, talking on the telephone.
He is clearly tall, even sitting down on the leather chair. The stripes on the sleeves of his coat indicate his rank as captain. Short black hair covers his head. Just boave his decorations are wings of gold. His most captivating feature is his eyes, as if he can look straight into someone' soul, like those of the two Navy commanders reporting to his office.
He speaks for a few more minutes on the phone, and then hangs up the receiver. "Welcome," says Captain Harmon Rabb, the Judge Advocate for Naval Forces Europe. "Good to see you again."
"Good to see you again, Harm," says Sturgis. "I can call you that here, right?"
"Only behind closed doors, Sturgis," says Harm.
"It's been a long time, Harm," says Meg.
"You made commander," says the captain.
"Nice place you got here," says Sturgis, looking around Harm's office. "Smaller than the general's office."
"I spoke to him," replies Harm. "I requested he send you both here. Hope I didn't spoil your plans."
"I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances," says Meg.
"I was on the phone with Admiral Ulrich; he's the commander of Naval Forces Europe," says Harm. "He's going to appoint a court of inquiry to investigate this incident." The Navy captain stands up. "The British authorities are taking the lead in this investigation. It was their plane that crashed into the stands, and almost everyone killed were British subjects. Our interest in this matter is that the British pilot was participating in a joint exercise with our pilots, and one of our admirals was killed. Admiral Ulrich assigned me to be in charge of the U.S. Navy's part in this investigation."
"Did you know Admiral Siegel?" asks Sturgis.
"I've debriefed him on legal matters a couple of times. We've yet to identify his remains."
"Do you think terrorists were involved?" asks Meg.
"We can't rule out that possibility, Meg," says Harm. "Especially since those bombings were just three months ago."
"Where were you?" asks Sturgis. "During the bombings?"
"Here," replies Harm. "I couldn't call Mac, since the land lines were out, probably because of the bombings, and my cell phone was undergoing repairs at the time. Well, let's back back to the subject for now. Now that you two are here, we are going to meet with Captain Geoffrey Hunter from the British Royal Navy. He's the lead investigator in this case."
ooooooooooo
1028 ZULU
"So these are the two lawyers you brought in," says the blond-haired man in a British Royal Navy uniform, speaking with an accent typical of his people.
"That's right, sir," replies Meg.
"The first thing to do is to get you to up to speed," says Captain Geoffrey Hunter, who is the British Royal Navy lawyer in charge of the investigation. "Lieutenant, if you will hand the two Americans the files."
"Yes, sir," replies a British lieutenant in the room with them. Sturgis and Meg receive manila folders filled with documents.
"Those folders contain the initial reports and statements from yesterday," says Captain Hunter.
"What was your first impression?" asks Sturgis.
"We don't know at this point," says Harm. "The wreckage of the crashed F/A-18 is still being looked over."
"I wouldn't be surprised if it was a mechanical failure, Rabb," says Hunter. "I am sure you're familiar with the Osprey."
"Let's not jump to conclusions yet, sir," says Meg.
ooooooooo
1107 ZULU
"I was assigned here just three months ago," says the U.S. Navy pilot, dressed in his pilot uniform. "I used to be the XO of a fighter squadron. I got this billet when I got promoted to commander. Oure job here was to practice manuevers. Yesterday was our first public air show."
"Were any pilots reporting mechanical trouble?" asks Sturgis, sitting down inside a small office in a British Royal Navy air field.
"No one reported engine trouble," says Commander Travis Gray, the senior American pilot in the joint acrobatic team. "Lieutenant Tarleton- the pilot who was killed in the crash- didn't report anything. I didn;'t even know something was wrong until someone yelled that the plane was down. I looked down and saw the smoke."
"To the best of your knowledge, what happened?" asks Meg.
"Let's start at the beginning," says Commander Gray. "We all reported in at 0700. We had to make sure our planes were in top shape. Admiral Siegel informed us he would be watching from the stands- he was the one who gave me this billet. We did not want to screw this up. We were cleared for takeoff at 1045. Captain took off first, I went second, and the others followed. We did all of the manuevers we practiced for the past three months. After the crash, we immediately returned to base and I've been speaking to investigators since."
"Are there any other details?" asks Sturgis.
"Yes," replies the commander. "Lieutenant Tim Walters- he's American- reported that he nearly collided with one of the planes and we had him land first due to the possibility that there might've been mechanical damage. Thank God there wasn't. No one else reported having a close encounter, so my best guess was that it was Lieutenant Tarleton's plasne he nearly crashed into."
"And Lieutenant Tarleton swerved right into the ground," says Meg.
"That's what I think," says Gray.
"If you learn anything else, you can contact us or Captain Harmon Rabb," says Sturgis. "He's the lead American investigator and staff judge advocate for Naval Forces Europe."
ooooooooo
1122 ZULU
"Yeah, I banked out of the way just before the crash," says Lieutenant Tim Walters, a man appearing to be in his late twenties. "It was a really close call for me. Too bad about Bill- Lieutenant Tarleton. He was a great guy. I'll be attending his memorial service."
"Are you sure that it was Lieutenant Tarleton you nearly crashed into?" asks Meg, standing inside the acrobatic teams' office.
"No one else said they nearly collided with another plane," says Walters. "That leaves Bill. There's gonna be a memorial service for him tomorrow, ma'am."
"How did you gety into this acrobatic team?" asks Sturgis.
"Got transferred here because of my piloting skills," says the Navy pilot. "I served on the Enterprise. I was on the deck when the President landed to congratulate us for accomplishing our mission in Iraq. I only hope that someday, preferably sooner, all of our troops can accomplish their missions too. I qualified for the F/A-18 Hornet at the beginning of this year when the Navy decided to switch us over from the Tomcats. Being in this acrobatic team, working side by side with foreign pilots; it was such a great honor. How could I say no?"
"Did you know Admiral Siegel?" asks Meg.
"I met him a few times. Heard he was the one who lobbied the Pentagon into forming this team. So sorry to hear about him. He wanted this to work, he really did."
"Was Lieutenant Tarleton a good pilot?" asks Sturgis.
"He was one of the best," says the lieutenant. "He flew air support during the invasion two years ago."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," says Meg. "We'll contact you if we need more answers."
"Sir, ma'am," says Walters, standing at attention to the two commanders.
oooooooooo
1134 ZULU
"We checked over every system twice," says Chief Petty Officer Ronald Shin, standing inside the hangar where the F/A-18 Hornets are stored. "We all got up early in the morning and spent hours over those planes."
"Chief, is it possible one of your mechanics didn't get enough sleep and made a critical error while working on one pof the planes, like Lieutenant Tarleton's plane?" asks Sturgis.
"I don't think so, sir," rewplies the chief petty officer. "I made sure all of my men went the bed early hte previous night. I even asked the commander to cancel all leaves for tonight, to make sure they stayed on base. You could check with base security. If any of them left without permission, they are going to be in big trouble."
"Are you in charge of the whole maintenance crew, or just the Americans?" asks Meg.
"We're all Americans," says Shin. "We've a lot more experience with the Hornets than the British."
"So you don't think it is a mechanical error?" asks Sturgis.
"We'll find out once they finish studying the wreckage."
oooooooooooooo
1403 ZULU
BETHSEDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
BETHSEDA, MARYLAND
Lieutenant Commander Bud Roberts walks into the small office. The SecNav's office had given him the name of the person he is to meet. Bud had asked a nurse's station for directions, and minutes later he is here.
"You must be Commander Roberts," says a man sitting behind a steel desk. "The SecNav told me about you. Jayson Newman."
"Lieutenant Commander Bud Roberts," says the Navy lawyer, extending his hand.
Newman places his arms on his sides. He then rolls a wheelchair out. Bud notices that Newman's legs are severed well above the knee.
"What happened?" asks Bud.
"I was a Marine stationed in Bosnia. I had the misfortune of stepping on a land mine."
"I stepped on a land mine in Afghanistan. That was three years ago."
"So your records say. Let me explain what I do. I assist in the design of prosthetics- specifically how to interface them with the human body. I got into that about five years ago."
Bud looks at a photgraph of Jayson in his younger years. Jayson is clad in Marine dress blues in one of the photos.
"May I see your artificial leg?" asks Newman.
"Sure," says Bud. He lifts his pant leg up, revealing the steel beam that composes his prosthetic leg.
"So basically they replaced your lower leg with a stick, an inert piece of steel."
"It gets me around."
"Think about it, Commander." Newman rolls a few inches along the carpeted floor of his office. "We can build things without a human hand touching them, and yet the only replacement we have for legs are sticks? We can lay cables across the ocean to transmit signals, and yet we can not heal quadriplegics. We can transmit clear images from Saturn, see the license plate of a car from Earth orbit, and yet we can not restore sight to the blind? We have computers that do calculations thousand of times faster than we can, and yet we can not compensate for brain damage? This is unconscionable. We owe the veterans who gave limbs, sight, and even their minds, the chance to make them whole again."
"Impressive speech," says Bud.
"I said this to a congressional committee when they held hearings for funding this project," says Jayson Newman. "I'll explain what your part will be, should you choose to participate. We are doing research into interfacing the protesthetic limbs' electrical system into the human nervous system. The idea is to connect the control and sensory interfacesdirectly with the nerves."
"You're going to fit me with a leg?"
"All in due time. We need to find out how the nerves would interact with an electronic circuit. Once we learn more, we can then design the control interface for the prosthetic limb. It will feel more like a part of you rather than just something you wear on your stump. Our plan is not only to create a mechanical leg that can be operated by your motor nerves, but has pressure sensors which can send signals to your brain. You will actually feel each step on your artificial foot."
"Sounds great."
"You were chosen because of your service to this country," says Newman. "Few disabled vets will get this privilege to pave the way for others. This is a chance for you, Commander Roberts, to make history."
oooooooooooo
1542 ZULU
HEADQUARTERS, NAVAL FORCES EUROPE
Harm, Sturgis, and Meg look at a copy of the flight data recovered from the wreckage of the F/A-18 Hornet. They watch the color plasma screen.
"No sign of any erratic flying by Lieutenant Tarleton," says Harm. "He banked to avoid the jet and then plunged straight to the ground."
"We were lucky this survived," says Meg.
"I wonder why he didn't pull up?" asks Sturgis.
"The angle of attack was too steep for him to pull up in time, at least from what I can tell," says the U.S. Navy captain. "The question is why was such a maneuver performed so close to the ground."
"Could he have blacked out?" asks Meg.
"I invesrtigated a similar case where a bad batch of oxygen caused a pilot to halluncinate and thus mistakenly hear an order to stand down from firing on an Iraqi jet," says Harm. "Unfortunately, the pilot here was cremated. We'll have to wait until they finish the report on the wreckage of the plane."
"When will that report come in?" asks Sturgis.
"Tomorrow."