Kevin Miller - Declared Hostile

“The Colombians will be flying C-10 and C-12 Kfirs from Barranquilla here on the coast. These are rebuilt Israeli aircraft obtained in 2009, and they are Mach 2 capable, used mostly for strike missions, have an internal gun and the forward-quarter Python missile. Good thrust-to-weight, not much of a turn rate, but they do have canards for enhanced slow-speed handling, and a glass cockpit. The pilots are fairly well trained in air-to-air and fly their aircraft to the limit. Typically, they fly in pairs, and we can expect them to operate under strict ground control.”

As they feigned attention, Trench and Coach were not thinking about strict ground control.

“You’ll be conducting mock attacks against the mainland, and Kfirs of the Fuerza Aérea Colombiana, or FAC, will be intercepting you off the coast.”

As Shane spoke, Macho surveyed the pilots as they watched her. The heavies up front, adults like Skipper Wilson, gave her the professional attention she deserved. It was plain to see, however, that back in the cheap seats Trench and Coach and probably the others were undressing her with their eyes. She had set Shane up in St. Thomas: Sure, meet the guys by the pool in a swimsuit. We do it all the time. Play grab-ass volleyball with them in the water. And Wonder Woman had played it perfectly, enthralled by the pilots’ attention, gushing like a schoolgirl, the naïve and delicate princess whispering to Macho at night in their bunks about how cute Trench was. Yes, Shane was the perfect bait to catch Trench and his bastard side-kick, Coach. They were going to slip up: a stray public comment, causing Shane grief and creating a hostile workplace, and Macho would be there to “protect” her frail roommate — and the sisterhood, in general — from these lecherous assholes. She envisioned Trench standing tall in front of the XO having to explain himself, and a smile formed on her lips. Just a matter of time…

On the other hand, Macho was impressed. Thrust to weight? Turn rate? Slow-speed handling? Wonder Woman had done her homework, and here, on day one, was talking to her aviator squadronmates on their level.

“Are there any questions?” Shane asked the group with a pert smile.

There were none, and Wilson looked over his shoulder to see for himself. “Nice job, Shane. Thanks,” he told her. Flushed with pride, she returned to her seat next to Macho.

“ Well done! ” Macho whispered and patted Shane’s knee.

“Thanks!” Shane replied. She radiated satisfaction with her performance, which she hoped made a difference to the fleet strike-fighter squadron. She felt she was off to a good start with a great group of people, like her cool roommate, Tiffany, er, Macho.

As he sat at the head of the table in his flag meeting room surrounded by Coral Sea’s brain trust, Admiral Roland Meyerkopf was perplexed.

To him, with his submarine pedigree, a nuclear-powered ship was a nuclear-powered ship, and if it floated on the surface or submerged under, it mattered little. No, it was all about the plant , and in the case of Coral Sea , the plants . The carrier he was on had two Westinghouse AW4 nuclear reactors that drove four massive shafts that delivered a mind-boggling 260,000 shaft horsepower that pushed the 100,000-ton steel mass of Coral Sea over 30 knots and could do it non-stop for twenty years if the machinist mates could keep the shafts and reduction gears lubed. Indeed, this national asset would serve the Navy and the nation for half a century before it wore out and needed to be decommissioned. During those decades, it would serve many roles: deter aggression and occasionally respond to it; deliver relief supplies; project national power, or the threat of it, well inland. And Coral Sea could do this from anywhere on earth.

A capital warship of this stature was vital to the nation’s military policy of forward deployment, the 800-pound gorilla that could be moved to trouble spots quickly and remain on station for weeks or months to maintain — or restore — stability ashore. In that sense, to Meyerkopf, the tactical war fighting capability of these ships was a sideshow. To him, the nuclear carrier fleet — like his submarine navy — was in greater danger from neglect and accidents, the insidious march of corrosion and mismanagement of planned maintenance shipyard availabilities that put unnecessary wear and tear on the plant and associated equipment. Vigilance through exhaustive and repetitive training, strict adherence to preventive maintenance schedules, and thorough inspections could mitigate this danger. Therefore, Meyerkopf was the right man at the right place at the right time.

He wasn’t the captain of the ship, but it was the flagship and the center of gravity of his strike group. As the senior officer aboard, he certainly shared some responsibility for her upkeep. After giving Sanders a fair shake, Meyerkopf’s measure of him was that he was shockingly detached from the engineering spaces, delegating them to his Executive and Reactor Officers in a way that appalled Meyerkopf. Sanders seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time pressing the flesh like a politician as he strolled through the passageways and mess decks, handing out his silly and monotonous daily “awards” to junior sailors only a year or two removed from their everybody-gets-a-trophy civilian upbringing. When Sanders wasn’t “campaigning for office,” he was on the bridge when the Airedales flew, day and night, another disturbing waste of time. Surely the aviators were professionals, and appeared to depart and return to the ship without trouble. No need for coddling by the captain for hours on end. The wing commander, Matson, seemed to be doing his job with the flight suit crowd, but running a ship was something Meyerkopf knew how to do, and Sanders clearly needed help.

With this focus, Meyerkopf asked probing questions about the plant each day in his morning staff meetings. The operational employment of the ship, even deployed far from home waters, would take care of itself. His flagship wasn’t going to deteriorate on his watch.

“Captain, these elevated dosimeter readings in Main Machinery Room One concern me.”

Sanders, ready for the daily quiz, answered with confidence.

“They concern me, too, Admiral, and while radiation levels are within limits, the Reactor and Medical departments are working side-by-side to find causal factors while closely monitoring our personnel. The XO reports to me each day. This has our full attention.

Meyerkopf frowned as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, mindful of the dozen senior officers present. He did not want to humiliate Sanders but needed to make a point — for the benefit of all. “Captain, the data indicate Coral Sea has elevated readings compared to other carriers, and they seem to elevate once underway. I mean, does it have your full attention? Do we need to ask for an assist team to fly down and help? Is it a training issue, or is it a sign of impending mechanical failure? What is it?”

“Sir, while the readings are elevated, they’ve remained steady. They are within limits, and we are watching them like a hawk.” Sanders regretted his last point, mentally scolding himself for not saying I am watching them.

Meyerkopf exhaled as he reviewed the report in front of him. “Rick, we can’t live this way. What if the readings get out of limits?”

“Sir, if they do, we can shut down Number One and operate on Number Two to complete the mission down here. Meanwhile, yes sir, if an assist team from Norfolk can visit us and give it a look, we’d love that. We’re always open to help and to increasing the knowledge of the crew. While we wait for their arrival, we are still operating the plant within limits.”