NS Midway Island, July, 1, 2018
Enterprise had hoped that this would never happen to her. It was the one thing the captain had entrusted her with, and she had broken it. Even though it had been a simple accident, Enterprise still felt torn up about it. This was her last chance, the only person on the base who could fix it without the captain learning about it. "Can you fix it?" she asked, sliding her M1903 across the worktable to Chief Zimmerman. The chief picked up the rifle and turned it over in his hands, examining the long crack that ran through the stock.
"Let me take this into the other room to get a better look," he said after a minute. Enterprise watched with hesitant anticipation as the chief disappeared into the adjoining workroom with the damaged rifle. It had been an accident that had broken the stock of her rifle. During today's wargames, William D. Porter had tripped and slammed into Enterprise. It was simple back luck that the destroyer had caught Enterprise while she was in the middle of launching planes, and had her weapon unslung. Enterprise was thrown forward, and the rifle was sent flying. It was good luck that the weapon landed on the dock rather than in the water. The crack was the result of that impact.
"So, how bad is it, chief?" Enterprise asked after a few minutes.
"How bad is what, lieutenant?" asked the one person that Enterprise had hoped not to run into, Captain Smith.
She turned to see him step into the workshop right as Zimmerman said, "Just something the lieutenant asked me to fix, sir." Enterprise breathed a silent sigh of relief at the chief's discretion.
"Skip it," Smith said, "Chief Zimmerman, can you please explain to me why one of your planes buzzed my helo this morning?" Enterprise had noticed one of the base helicopters circling this morning's exercise, but she hadn't known who was aboard it.
A look of understanding passed over Zimmerman's face, "Sir, I think I know exactly what has happened here. As a part of the exercise we were testing some new aircraft, and if it was who I think it was, I know exactly what happened."
"Chief, you're not making a lot of sense here," Smith said.
"Sir, I think it would be best if I showed you. Follow me," Zimmerman walked over to an adjoining room and pushed open the door. Enterprise jumped up and followed Smith over to the now open door. "This is our aircraft workshop," Zimmerman explained, "We work on new planes for the carriers in here." Enterprise leaned over Smith's shoulder to see that the majority of the room was taken up by several long tables. Each of these held a small airplane.
"What the hell is that?" Smith exclaimed. Enterprise looked again to see that attending each of the aircraft was a group of fairies.
"You don't know about the fairies?" Zimmerman asked.
"Fairies? Chief, I'm starting to become more and more confused, fix that."
"Well, sir, fairy is the term the Japanese came up with, and it just suits them, so we didn't try to change it," Zimmerman explained. Seeing the look of utter confusion on his CO's face, he continued, "The fairies are the girl's crews. They man the weapons, operate the sensors…"
"And fly the planes," Enterprise added, causing Smith to turn and look at her for a second.
"And fly the planes," Zimmerman acknowledged, "They also build and maintain them." He walked down the row of tables until he reached a specific airplane. "Is this the culprit from this morning, sir?" Smith walked into the room, and looked at the plane. It was a Chance-Vought F4U Corsair, its gull wings were unfolded and its fuselage glistened in the dark blue livery of the Navy. What was interesting about this particular aircraft was the title, "MARINES," painted across the fuselage in white, block text.
"I believe that it is," Smith replied.
"The Corsair is one of our current projects," Zimmerman explained, "Most of the carriers came back with their early-war loadouts, which means no Corsairs. We're having to build them from scratch, and this is the current example."
"Why the Marine livery?" Smith asked.
"Sir, most of my test pilots are Marines, and they like to paint the airplanes in the 'team colors,' so to say."
"Marine pilots?" Smith asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"We really don't know what the fairies are, sir. The current consensus is that they are a girl's former crew, coming back in a different form," Zimmerman explained.
"And part of those crews include Marine aviators?"
"Yes, sir."
Enterprise spoke up, hoping to explain further, "Sir, the Marine pilots are sometimes troublemakers. The carriers prefer to separate them from the Navy flyers in order to minimize, incidents. One way we do that is to send them to Chief Zimmerman so that they can be a part of his test pilot squadron."
"Is that true, chief?" Smith asked.
"Yes, sir. We have more than a dozen pilots working here to test the new birds."
"So who, may I ask, was responsible for buzzing my helo?" Smith asked, returning to reason why he was here.
"That would be the driver of this ship," Zimmerman explained. He reached down and rapped on the Corsair's airframe. A second later, its canopy slid back, and a fairy wearing a flight suit jumped out of the cockpit.
'There was just something about this flyer that screamed, Marine,' Enterprise thought.
He leaped down to the table, and shot a scathing look up at Zimmerman. "Pappy," Zimmerman addressed him, "You were out this morning. Did you fly close to a helicopter? One of the things with the big rotor?" The fairy gave Zimmerman a hurt look, then looked down at the deck.
He then looked back up at Zimmerman, and gave a barely audible, "Yessir."
"There you go, sir," Zimmerman turned back to Smith, "There's your culprit. He's a major by the way, one of the higher ups in the squadron."
"Pappy, does that mean…" Smith trailed off.
"Far as we can tell," Zimmerman replied, "Sometimes, they sneak back with girls who they never served with, and usually end up here. Also, it's usually the famous ones who do it." Smith shook his head slightly, then leaned down to look at the fairy.
"Do you know who I am, Marine," he said in his best, "Don't give me any shit, sailor," voice.
The fairy nodded, and said, "Yessir."
"Do you know why it's a bad idea to fly that close to aircraft with which you are not in radio contact?"
"Yessir."
"Do I have to explain to you why you will never pull a stunt like that one again?"
"Nosir."
"Chief, I want you to pull him off the flight list for one week, then he can go back to testing you toys," Smith said, standing up.
"Aye sir," Zimmerman replied.
Smith turned to look at Enterprise and asked, "Now, what was it that you were getting fixed?" Enterprise's heart fell, she had thought she wouldn't have to bring this up with the captain.
"It's nothing, sir," Zimmerman tried to deflect.
"That is for me to decide, chief," Smith retorted.
"Sir, it was an accident, I didn't mean to do it," Enterprise said.
"So what, lieutenant?" Smith asked, it was clear by his tone that his patience was drawing short.
"Captain," Zimmerman said, his tone falling, "It's in here. Take a look at it before you pass judgement."
"Very well, lead on." Zimmerman walked back out into the main workshop, and ducked into his workroom. A second later he came out holding the broken rifle. Enterprise looked up briefly to see a look of recognition flash over Smith's face. She mentally steeled herself for what was about to come.
"So, how did you break it?" Smith asked. The calmness of his tone shocked Enterprise thoroughly.
"I was during the exercise, Enterprise said with a sigh, "One of the destroyers tripped and made me drop it." Smith turned the rifle over in his hands for several seconds, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Chief?" he asked after a few seconds, "Can you fix this?"
"It looks to me like just a surface crack, a little glue, and it'll be good as new, sir," Zimmerman replied. Smith passed the Springfield back to Zimmerman, then turned back to look at Enterprise.
"Lieutenant, accidents happen. I knew something like this would happen eventually. Just next time, let me know about it before you try to cover it up, please," Smith said.
"Yes sir," Enterprise said.
"Well, I'll leave you too this then, and chief, keep 'Pappy' and his Marines from breaking anything else, please. Unless they're breaking Abyssals, they can break Abyssals all they want," Smith said, then turned to leave.
"Aye, aye sir," Zimmerman replied. Once Smith had left, he said to Enterprise, "Give me fifteen minutes and I'll have this fixed right up." She breathed a sigh of relief, she had certainly dodged a bullet today.
The White House, Washington D.C.
The Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Mike Richards, was having a bad day. A recent survey in total tonnage had displayed a critical shortage. Essentially, the Navy was unable to adequately defend the American coast with the number of ships it currently possessed. The Abyssals had taken their toll on the US Navy. There was currently a frantic rearmament program in place, aimed towards putting every single ship that could still float, fight, and get underway back into service. While this would help, it still didn't fix things in the short term.
Then one of Richards' juniors had come up with a plan, a way to plug a gap that had been created with the loss of the Carl Vinson. Unfortunately, said plan would require diplomatic support, as well as military. That was where the President came in. Richards was hoping to clear the idea through him in order to get the allied support they needed to make things work right. After spending about thirty minutes with the secret service guys, it was finally decided that Admiral Richards was really who he claimed to be, and he was allowed inside the Oval Office. It wasn't the admiral's first time in this room, but he couldn't help but feel the power that this room contained.
The President was sitting behind his desk when Richards walked in. He stood up and said, "Admiral, what can I do for the Navy today?"
"Sir, we've discovered a problem," Richards said, "With the loss of the Carl Vinson, and the previous losses, we've suffered, the only carrier currently on the west coast, is the Nimitz."
"So you're telling me, that we only have one operational carrier in place to defend the entire west coast?" the President asked, "And I'm just hearing about this now?"
"Sir, we were planning on bringing the Kitty Hawk back into commission, but the refit has been delayed due to a lack of parts. It'll be a few months before she comes back into commission. Until then, all we have left is the Nimitz."
"So what do you want me to do?" the President asked.
"Mr. President, we currently have three carriers forward deployed. John C. Stennis is in Pearl, and the Theodore Roosevelt and Ronald Reagan are in Japan," Richards explained, "What we want to do, is bring the Roosevelt back to the west coast. To do that, we want to use the Fleet Auxiliary personnel we already have in Japan, and we need help from the Japanese."
"So, you want me to convince the Japanese to lend us some of their ship girls, so that we can bring one of our carriers home? Did I hear that right? Why not just use our own girls out of Midway?"
"Sir, while our Fleet Auxiliary program is currently exceeding all expectations, the simple fact remains that very few of our girls, have combat experience," Richards replied.
"And moving a carrier across the Pacific is something where we need all the experience we can get," the President said.
"Correct, sir."
"The current plan is to order the Roosevelt to make a hard run strait to Pearl, where it will spend a few days refitting, then send it on to Bremerton."
"Why not just make the run strait to the west coast?"
"Two reasons. First, she needs a refit badly, and we have the spares in Pearl to do that. Second, think of the public morale boost we'll get from pulling a carrier into Pearl, and we still need to do that press conference about the Fleet Auxiliaries, why not do it on the deck of the Roosevelt?"
"You know what? I like that plan. We could have Smith fly out from Midway to meet the carrier, and he could conduct his press conference when they pull into Pearl," the President said.
"That was part of the idea, sir," Richards replied.
"Very well, you have my approval, and I'll start the ball rolling with State, get that support you need from the Japanese."
"Thank you Mr. President," Richards said, standing up.
"Oh, and one other thing," the President asked, "Admiral, what is the current progress towards opening the new Fleet girl bases?"
"Sir, I just forwarded the order to Smith this morning. He'll have a list of transferees to me later today," Richards replied, "And I already know who we're going to tap to lead the new bases. The orders have been cut, and will go out later today."
"You're going to put one in Diego, and one in Norfolk if I remember," the President asked.
"That is correct, sir."
"Very well, good luck then."
"Aye aye, sir," Richards said, then turned to leave. That had gone better than he hoped it would. Now he had some orders to cut, and some phone calls to make.
Yokosuka Naval District
Dakota had to admit that this little exchange mission had been going rather well. Her girls hadn't caused any major incidents, and the intel she had gleaned about the Abyssals had been invaluable. She was in the mess hall having a conversation with Nagato. The other battleship had been her main sources of information, and the pair had had many conversations over the last few days. "As far as we can tell," Dakota continued, "After they finished smashing our forces to the point where we couldn't fight them anymore, they just disappeared. There hasn't been a confirmed Abyssal sighting anywhere near the US coast in months."
"They have become overconfident," Nagato noted, "They were like that when we first begun our war as well. Their fight has been too easy, so they back down to the minimum force necessary to defeat your own. Enjoy this while it lasts, for they will soon return with greater numbers once they discover that you are able to combat them."
"That is what we figured," Dakota murmured, "How was it like in the early days for you?"
"All of our knowledge of the Abyssals was circumstantial. We had to learn our enemy's strengths and weakness by trial and error. There were many casualties back in those days. Hopefully your countrymen can use what we have learned to good effect," Nagato said.
"Well we don't seem to be making very good progress on that front. Half the Navy wants to shut the ship girl program down, and the other half wants to shower us with praise even though we haven't done anything yet," Dakota mused.
"There was a similar situation in my country. We were lauded as heroes by some, and a waste of resources by others," Nagato replied.
"How did you deal with it?"
"We ignored it. We fought our war by ourselves, and let the populous draw their own conclusions after the fact," Nagato stated.
"I think we're lucky there," Dakota announced, "The general public doesn't even know we exist, we're top secret," she said with a smirk.
"Then you truly are lucky," Nagato replied, "I find myself fighting two conflicts simultaneously, one against the Abyssals, and one against public opinion. My seniority in the Kanmusu corps does not help this at all."
"Well, good luck with that," Dakota said, raising her glass in mock salute. Their conversation was cut short when Captain Muriname walked up.
"Getting along alright, Dakota?" he asked.
Dakota turned to look at the base commander and said, "Yes sir, no problems as of yet."
"I just received a message that I believe you would want to see," he announced, "You as well, Nagato, this applies to our own forces as well as the Americans." Dakota nodded and followed Muriname to his office.
"Sir, may I ask what this is about?" Dakota asked.
"Your navy wants to tap you for an escort mission, and they want me to lend you a few girls from this base to assist," Muriname said, then handed a message form to Dakota.
"You'll have to excuse me, I'm not familiar with this ship, what is the Theodore Roosevelt?" Dakota asked after reading the form.
"It's 4.5 acres of sovereign US territory," Nagato said, then seeing Dakota's look of confusion, she added, "She's one of your Navy's carriers, and is currently docked over in the American section of the bay." Dakota's eyes widened. She had seen pictures of the current class if aircraft carrier in the Navy's arsenal, and was a bit shocked that she was being entrusted to escort one.
"There is a Humvee waiting outside for you, Dakota," Muriname announced, "It will take you to the Roosevelt. Her commanding officer wishes to speak with you about plans."
"Yes sir," Dakota replied. She was having trouble processing what Muriname was telling her, she was still in shock about the mission.
"Don't just stand there," Muriname said, "Go, it your tax dollars being wasted."
Dakota shook herself and replied, "Yes sir," then turned to leave. Sure enough, there was a Humvee waiting for her just outside the admin building. She walked to the passenger seat and was greeted by the Marine corporal in the driver's seat.
"You, Lieutenant Dakota?" he asked.
"Hold on ma'am, we'll be on the base in a few minutes," the Marine announced. Dakota was too busy staring out the Humvee's window to reply. They had to pass through the city of Yokosuka to reach the American base, and Dakota was mesmerized by the number of people she saw walking around.
Then she saw the carrier. They had just passed through the main gate when she saw it. The giant gray silhouette towered above its neighbors. She was amazed by the size of it, it was at least as large as an Iowa class battleship, probably bigger. The Humvee pulled up to the waiting gangway, then stopped. "This is the end of the road for me, ma'am," her driver announced, "They'll be someone else to lead you around up there."
"Thank you, corporal," Dakota said as she got out.
"Anytime, ma'am," he replied, doffing his cover in salute. Dakota stared up the gangway for several seconds, before she began to make her way up. Once at the top, she stopped to perform the requisite custom of saluting the ensign and the OOD.
Her salute was returned and the OOD asked, "Are you, Lieutenant Dakota?"
"That's right."
"If you would please follow me, ma'am, the captain's waiting for you in his cabin." Dakota nodded then followed the officer through the bowels of the ship. The path to the captain's cabin took them through the hangar deck. Dakota found herself staring up at one of the jets. Even with its wings stowed and covers over in air intakes, it looked dangerous, almost predatory. She didn't realize that she was staring, until the OOD grabbed her shoulder and said, "Come on, ma'am, the captain's waiting."
"Yes, thank you," she muttered then began to walk again. It only took them a few more minutes to reach the door of the captain's in port cabin.
The OOD knocked on the door, and someone on the other side said, "Come in." The door was opened, and Dakota walked in.
She stopped in front of the captain and said, "Lieutenant South Dakota reporting to the commanding officer as ordered, sir."
"So you really are the South Dakota, are you?" he said, shocking Dakota. "At ease, please." She looked down to see that the captain was a middle aged man, with a bald head, and a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. "They told me you were coming out, but frankly I didn't believe it. Even if the message came from the CNO's office," he announced.
"Sir, I can't help who I am," Dakota replied, earning a laugh from the man.
"No, I guess you can't," he replied, "I'm Captain Rider by the way, CO of this boat."
"You already know who I am, sir," Dakota said.
"That I do, that I do," he said, "Please sit, would you like some coffee? Something like that? We're waiting on the battlegroup commander, and, I hate to admit this, he's always a bit late."
"Coffee would be fine, sir," Dakota replied.
"So we have a kanmusu program, just like the Japanese," Rider commented as he stood up to fix the coffee, "Who would have thought."
"Only for a few months," Dakota replied, "We're still brand new."
"Do you know the details of this mission?" Rider asked, he then placed a steaming mug down in front of Dakota, "Here you go."
Dakota nodded her thanks and replied, "That my girls are going to escort your ship back to Pearl."
"Well, we are going all the way back to Bremerton, but you'll only ride us to Pearl," Rider added, "But, yes, that's right. You'll probably have more backup on this mission than anything else you've seen. My jets and my battlegroup will be there to help, but there will probably be a lot more Abyssals trying to stop us. Carriers are their favorite target, and they throw everything they have in their path."
"Sir, may I ask a question?" Dakota asked.
"Go ahead."
"Why am I being trusted with this? Not to put myself down at all, but my girls are still inexperienced, why are we escorting a carrier?"
"The Navy needs this boat back stateside," Rider said, "The CNO seems to think that you can handle this, and I'm not one to disagree with my boss."
"I didn't even know the CNO knew I existed," Dakota muttered.
"You won't be alone, the Japanese are sending a division of their girls along for the ride, and they are quite adept at fighting Abyssals. I've seen them at work," Rider commented, "And my Hornet drivers are no slouches either, they've been assisting the Japanese for months now. Even if our missiles down work, those Abyssals still don't like being hit by 20mm cannons." A knock on the door silenced Rider. "That must be the admiral," he said, "Time to get down to business." Dakota spent the next hour discussing strategy with the captain and the commanding admiral. After they were done, she still didn't feel ready for this.
NS Midway Island
Smith didn't like FLASH traffic messaged. Whenever he got a FLASH message, it was bad news, this one especially. The news about the stunt with the carrier was bad enough, but now he had to make up transfer lists. He sighed, he'd have to transfer whole divisions, doing anything else would cause a riot among his ranks. He stood up and retrieved a drink from his fridge. He was tempted to reach for a beer, but decided that a soda was a better idea. He leaned back in his chair, and sighed loudly. "I know that face, that's the 'Woe is me everything is going horribly' face," Smith was a bit surprised to see his wife standing in the door.
"I think it's justified," Smith groaned, "Read this." He slid the message form across the desk. Sarah picked it up and flipped through it.
She let out a low whistle, "Is this for real?"
"Afraid so," Smith said, slowly pinching the bridge of his nose, "I checked the identification code group twice, it checks out. Apparently that message came directly from the office of the CNO."
"So, they're going to try to escort a carrier clear across the Pacific," Sarah said in shocked disbelief.
"That's not the part I'm worried about," Smith said, "It's the fact that they're using my girls to do it."
"Those girls are well trained, they're ready for this," Sarah reassured.
"If that was all of it. On top of that, I have to draw up a list of girls who can be transferred to other bases. That's going to wreck morale," Smith sighed, "And, this is the best part, I don't have a clear idea of who we can transfer. I want to keep the girls in their divisions, but they've come back so piecemeal that there aren't enough whole divisions to transfer."
"So, do what any boat skipper would do in a situation like this, get the opinion of the crew, or maybe your XO," Sarah suggested.
"That might be a good place to start," Smith said, then he leaned back in his chair and shouted, "Lieutenant, could you come in here please?"
A minute later Enterprise stuck her head into Smith's office and said, "You need me for something, sir?"
"Come in lieutenant, come in. We were discussing a new set of orders, and I would like your opinion," Smith said, waving Enterprise in.
"Sir, I don't think that I could…." Enterprise began to protest
"Lieutenant, get in here already," Smith cut her off.
"Aye sir," she said, then walked into the office. "What is it you need me for?"
"I just got a message from headquarters. Apparently there are two new ship girl bases forming back stateside. I've been tasked with transferring the first girls to these new commands, and I need your suggestions about who I could put on that list."
"I think I can help with that, sir," she said after a minute's thought, "Who exactly did you have in mind?"
"Mainly, we need girls who saw service in the Atlantic," Smith said.
"Off the top of my head, Nevada would make a great choice. She's a great tactician and a good leader. For carriers? Ranger and Bogue, they both operated exclusively in the Atlantic, and saw good service. You'll have to look into cruisers and destroyers, I'm afraid I'm not too experienced with their war records."
"Thank you Enterprise," Smith said, "I'll ask you again about this, go ask around the barracks, find me a list of girls who could fill this list, and I'll look into the records on my end."
"Is that all sir?" she asked.
"It is, dismissed." Enterprise did a crisp about face, and left Smith's office.
"That was a mean thing to do," Sarah said after she had left, "Ask her to spy on the other girls."
"I never told her to spy on anyone, I told her to figure out who could be transferred."
"Without telling the girls she was looking for people to transfer?" Sarah pointed out.
"Captain's prerogative," Smith shrugged.
Sarah reached down and swatted Smith on the shoulder, "Well, captain, I some messages to send, I'll see you at home." Smith nodded his agreement, and watched as his wife walked out of his office. When she was gone, he leaned back in his chair, and looked out of his window. He just caught a glimpse of the Seahawk flying past.
"Walker's out early," he mused, then went to dig out record jackets.
[][][][][][][][][][][]
"Well, what do you think?" Commander Charles Walker said over his headset.
"This is awesome," came the excited reply of his passenger. Walker looked over his shoulder to see Yorktown sitting in the right seat, a huge grin plastered over her face.
"You think this is good," Walker said, "Just wait till I get you up in a Hornet. Nothing else like it."
"I'm holding you to that," Yorktown announced, "You will be taking me up in a fighter."
Walker laughed, "I wouldn't dream of breaking my promises." Yorktown nodded, then went back to staring out the cockpit window. "So, this is your first time up here?" Walker asked after a few minutes of silence.
"Not many chances to go flying out on this post," she replied, "It was wither your whirligigs or bum a ride with the chair force, and the cap'n would probably have a conniption if I tried that."
"Probably right, probably right, but a helo flight is still better than nothing." Walker gave her a few more minutes before announcing, "That's enough sightseeing for now, we came out here to do a job, let's get it done."
"But sir, can it wait for five more minutes," Yorktown pleaded.
"No it cannot," Walker said, then, seeing Yorktown's expression, added, "It'll only take us thirty minutes to do, and then we can use the rest of our allotted fuel to circle the base."
"That'll be fine," Yorktown replied.
Walker nodded, then said into the intercom, "Chief, you ready back there?"
A second later the helicopter's crew chief, a grizzled, old Chief Aircrewman replied, "Sir, we're all ready to go back here, just give the word." Walker acknowledged the message, then looked down at his kneeboard. There was a map of the island tacked to its first page, with several points circled in red. These were where he was going to drop a series of sensor buoys that, in theory, could detect Abyssals at range. Walker looked at the GPS screen mounted in the center of his flight console.
"Ready," Walker called as he approached the first spot, "Drop, now now now."
"Buoy away," came the reply a second later after the chief had sent the sensor buoy plummeting down to the water. Since this was not the ASW version of the Seahawk, he had simply thrown the thing out the open door. Walker waited a few minutes for it to deploy, then circled back to check that it had deployed. The bright, orange float on the surface confirmed this.
"People really do this for a living?" Yorktown asked a second later.
"Hell, the ASW guys would spend hours up here dropping buoys trying to find submarines. The P-3 drivers had it worse, they could spend days on station," Walker commented.
"So how many more of those do we have to do," Yorktown asked.
"Will you calm down already?" Walker asked, then said, "Two, we have two more buoys to drop, then we can go sightseeing."
"That's fine," Yorktown said, then settled back in her seat for the next few minutes. The remaining two buoys were deployed with no problems, and thirty minutes later Walker had completed his mission. He turned back towards the base, and made a low altitude pass over the airfield.
"Hey," he said, breaking Yorktown from her gazing, "You wanna take it?"
"Really?" she said, hesitantly, almost as if she couldn't believe what she was being asked.
"Yes, really," Walker quipped back, "We all learn to fly somewhere, and you might as well start now. Just put your hands on the cyclic for now, I'll keep the throttles."
"Cyclic?" Yorktown asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"Right, I forgot, never seen a heli before," Walker said, then explained, "The joystick, between your legs."
"Right," Yorktown replied, taking the stick in her hands.
"Now, this things flies a bit different from regular planes, push forward on the stick to pitch the nose forward, pull back to pitch up. If you want to fly faster, push forward, if you want to slow down, pull back. Now, don't worry, I'll be with you every step of the way," Walker explained.
"Okay," Yorktown said. Walker could tell by her tone that she was steeling herself for what was to come next. He even thought that he detected a few, sharp intakes of breath from her, but she eventually said, "I'm ready."
"You've got it," he said simply, and eased his tension on the cyclic, allowing her to move the stick. He could feel an increase in pressure on his own stick as she began to move it. Hesitantly, at first, but with increasing confidence as she got the feel for it. The helicopter began a slow tilt forward, gaining a bit of speed, then began to ease into a nice, sedate cruise.
Walker was actually a bit impressed at how quickly Yorktown had figured out the controls. "If you want to try something else," he said after a few minutes, "Push the stick left to bank left, and right to go right. Gently now."
"Okay," she replied. She began to ease the helicopter into a gentle turn. Again, Walker was impressed at how fast she was learned all this. Perhaps, it was her previous experiences as a carrier that gave her some sort of insight into this, but whatever it was, he couldn't deny that she had potential. The flashing red light on his instrument panel changed things.
"That's the fuel warn," He said, "Time to go home. I've got it."
"You've got it back," she said, and released her hold on the cyclic. Walker turned around and headed back towards the large helipad that had been painted on the tarmac. Walker set the Seahawk down, and immediately went into his post flight ritual of checks and rechecks. The big rotor stopped turning, and the turbines ground to a halt. Walker jumped out a second later, and began his walk-around. He was a bit surprised when Yorktown grabbed him from behind in a tight embrace.
"Thank you," she said, "That was incredible."
"Come back when we get the Cat flying, I'll give you a check ride in her," Walker said.
"Yes, yes, yes please," she said, then let go of the commander.
"I know what it's like, Yorktown," he chuckled softly, "Once you get bit by the flying bug, you never go back."
"All I know, sir, is that I want to go back up, as soon as possible," she said.
"Go on then, get out of here. All I have left to do is some not fun maintenance reports, go have some fun, I'll deal with this stuff," Walker said. She nodded, then walked away. Walker shook his head wordlessly, now that was one girl who was destined to be a pilot.
[][][[][][][][][
A/N:
I know, I know this one took a while to get done, but tests, Navy duties, and general life really screwed with my writing time. Hopefully the next one won't take as long.