Kevin Miller - Declared Hostile

“Look!” Shane exclaimed as they drove along the summit, which offered a magnificent view of the harbor roadstead. “Is that the carrier?”

Macho glanced at the ship and answered her. “Yep. Coral Maru , all 100,000 tons of her. And I think she is the only carrier around here.”

“Goodness! A real carrier! I’ve never seen one except in pictures! Oh, Tiffany, this is so exciting! ” Shane was almost beside herself in excitement, sharing this moment with her new-found sister. Macho, giving in to a dark impulse, decided to have some fun at the FNG’s expense.

“Yes! And wait till you meet the guys! You’ll love them! True officers and gentlemen who open doors for us and pull out chairs for us in the wardroom! Our XO is a woman. And one of the hinge-heads, I mean department heads, is a woman, too. She goes by Olive. The guys absolutely adore us, and we have so much fun together! And they are all McDreamy! ”

Shane squealed and hunched her shoulders together. “Ohhh, I can’t wait to meet everyone!”

“Yes, and they treat us like the ladies we are. Now, mind you, we are a working squadron. The pilots are going to depend on you to teach us about the enemy order of battle and what the bad guys are up to. The Firebirds are a team, and we need you to be a contributing part of it.”

Shane’s big eyes became serious, and she nodded emphatically. “Oh, I will! You can depend on me!”

They pulled into the resort parking lot, and Macho led Shane to the admin as she lugged her sea bag up the steps. Mercifully, her CO was up and dressed in shorts and a polo shirt. Wilson stood as they entered, and Macho introduced him to his newest officer.

“Skipper, allow me to present Ensign Shane Duncan.”

“Welcome aboard, Shane. Jim Wilson,” Wilson extended his hand.

“Thank you, sir!” Shane gushed. “I’m honored to be here!” Wilson immediately noted her height and the fact that he had to look up to her. Because the others were lounging at the pool or sunning on the beach, they were the only three people in the condo

Wilson led them to the sitting area and motioned both women to have a seat. Macho relaxed and crossed her ankle over her knee like a man. Shane sat up straight with her back off the chair, eyes locked on her new CO.

“Please tell me about yourself,” Wilson began.

“Well… I’m from Pocatello, Idaho, and I was in Navy ROTC at the University of Idaho. My grandfather served in Vietnam on a cruiser, and I loved his stories of exotic ports and the romance of the sea. Here in St. Thomas, I now see what he meant!” she giggled. Macho rolled her eyes. Wilson nodded and smiled, waiting for her to continue.

“Soo… I went into ROTC and was drawn to the Intelligence field. I hope to be able to serve you well and to help the pilots learn about ships and aircraft and air defense systems.”

“I’m sure you will. Do you have other work experience, or is this your first job?”

“Well, I’m Mormon, so I was on a mission trip a few years ago that split up my college studies.”

“Family?” Wilson asked.

“I’m single. My family lives in Pocatello, and we have some relatives in Oregon. I’m the oldest of six: four girls, and the two youngest are twin boys. We dote on those boys!”

Wilson smiled, impressed with Shane’s positive energy. He could also see she was stunningly beautiful. The combination of her striking good looks and innocent naiveté could pose a challenge for her — and his command.

“Again, welcome aboard. You are joining a fleet Hornet squadron, the Firebirds of VFA-16, and we’ve been a winning team since the Vietnam War. Our job is to be ready to deliver credible combat power with no-notice as part of the Carrier Air Wing SIX/ Coral Sea team. We fly the FA-18C Hornet strike-fighter, and we employ all manner of weapons against all manner of threats. We deploy anywhere in the world Washington sends us, and we live with strict rules of engagement. And we need you to learn how we employ our aircraft and to prepare our pilots with the latest intelligence and capabilities of any potential adversary, and that includes me.”

Shane nodded purposefully, riveted on her CO. Wilson then turned to Macho.

“Macho, when we go back aboard, where is Shane going to bunk?”

That morning Macho had expected to pick up a guy at the airport, so, on the way back, she had given this some thought.

“We have an open bunk in my stateroom, sir. Probably there.”

“Great. Well, okay. Welcome aboard, Shane. It’s good to have you in the squadron.” Wilson stood to shake hands.

Beaming, Shane replied, “Thank you, sir!” Welcomed as a full-fledged and vital member of the Firebirds , she accepted his outstretched hand.

Macho, who had a plan in mind, then spoke. “C’mon, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys. They are probably down at the pool. Do you have a swimsuit?”

Shane appeared uneasy. “Yes, I do, but….”

“Great, let’s get changed! Please excuse us, sir.”

Wilson nodded. As the women left, he sensed Shane’s unease with meeting her squadronmates in a swimsuit and wondered if he should stop them.

At that moment, one thousand miles to the west, Enrique Martinez had to take a leak.

Pounding over the choppy seas at 80 kilometers an hour, the cigarette boat transferred continuous rapid-fire shocks to his spinal cord. They were taking a toll, especially after their mid-point “meal” aboard the trawler some forty minutes earlier. At this rate they were three hours from landfall at Banco Chinchorro, an atoll just north of the Belize coast, and the weather looked to hold. How he wanted a shower. After they’d spent hours loading product into the hold and forward sleeping compartment, the sonofabitch Pablo said the boat was out of balance and had to be reloaded.

All that work for nothing. And Pablo just stands there pointing his finger while we break our freakin’ backs .

The men had to take it all out, then load it back in. And as soon as it was secure, Pablo got spooked by headlights on the wharf and frantically motioned for them to shove off. Now!

Enrique hated Pablo and all the fancy-suited narcotraficales with their gold chains and thick-necked muscle, who pushed him and his partner, Jorge, like dogs. We are the ones taking the risk out here. Pablo and his prositutas just sat around the pool until the next shipment. Middlemen, that’s all they were, and Enrique was filled with contempt for them, all of them. Ashore the campesinos grew old before their time with the drudgery of cultivating and harvesting product, and now he and Jorge risked their lives on the open ocean or, if caught, in prison. And the pigs — like Pablo — take a big cut and do nothing. They are the ones who should be in prison, the bastards.

Enrique scanned the horizon before his face was lashed with spray. Wiping the water off with his right hand, he held the wheel with his left. Even in the open cockpit of a boat with over 40 knots of wind, he could smell the familiar odor of marijuana wafting up from the cabin door next to him.

“Jorge. Jorge! ” Enrique yelled to his partner below.

Jorge stumbled to the hatch and looked up at Enrique with squinty eyes, a lighted joint in his hands. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Take the wheel. I need to piss.”

Disgusted, Jorge stepped up from the cabin and hung on to the railing as the boat pounded each swell. Once he got on deck, he flicked the half-smoked joint over the side and scanned northwest toward the bouncing bow.