Chapter Twelve - "Back at Work"

"Hail and Well Met"

Chapter Twelve - "Back at Work"

0300hrs EST; Room 325, Marine Corps Base Quantico VOQ; Marine Corps Base Quantico; Quantico, VA. MAY 19, 1997

"Ugh!" Meg muttered caustically as she shot a baleful stare at the alarm clock. The alarm clock was unmoved and continued its ringing cacophony until Animal threw his pillow at it which knocked it off the shelf and into the empty garbage can followed by the pillow where the alarm clock still clanged mournfully only slightly muffled by the pillow. "I'd shoot it if I could." Meg muttered.

Both were now up and both were not happy about it.

"I still think a Cessna 172 would make more sense." Animal muttered "We could live in Falls Church and I could commute from NAF Washington. I'm sure they'd let me park the 172 in a corner somewhere off to the side."

"Well do you think we should resume our search for a house and find a buyer for the one we have? While you find a Cessna you could fly?" Meg asked as she put her makeup on after her quick morning shower.

"It may be that it's too early in the morning and I'm not thinking clearly, Animal stifled a yawn as he brushed his teeth. "But it still sounds like a great idea."

Meg finished up her makeup, then started putting on her uniform. Animal spat his mouthful of toothpaste out in the sink, ran water to clear it and rinsed out his toothbrush. Then washed his face before patting it dry with a face towel. He proceeded to spray himself with cologne, not too much, just enough to leave a bit of a scent. Meg thought that musk was enticing and purred in his ear, "if I didn't need to get to work...I'd jump your bones right now...".

Animal grinned at that, "Well, can't be late for work, right."

"You're no fun..." Meg teased as she headed to the kitchen to grab her breakfast and lunch containers. She was in service dress khakis with the ribbons and skirt (AN: Yeah, I know she never wore skirts with khakis in the show, it's a part of the Navy khaki dress khakis uniform; it's getting used, deal!) and she had her pumps in her hand but she wore a set of black soft soled flats so she could drive. Then she would change to pumps before she got out of the car at work.

Animal was wearing his work khakis with just the wings and rank insignia.

"Do you have flying today?" Meg asked.

"Yeah, just a short hop with the nuggets. Just to see where they are in the curriculum when they left Fleet Reserve Squadron training. It's what I term slitting throats." It's where we determine if they can cut the mustard as part of our squadron or they go back to the FRS to get resorted out." The Black Aces had high standards; not everyone selected got in.

Meg leaned in and gave him a passionate kiss. "I gotta get on the road, I love you...have a good day at work, honey."

Animal grabbed his lunch and breakfast and headed out right behind her; locking the door. Meg was in her Camaro and ready to head out. Sighting him, she blew him a kiss. Animal blew her one back as he got into his Mustang and started the engine seeing her drive past headed for the sentry gate. Hardly anyone on the road at 0400, Animal thought. Luckily they filled up with gas so it was going to be a relatively easy straight shot to Oceana Naval Air Station.

Meg noted her gas gauge in her Camaro. She had enough in her tank to hit Falls Church and she would fill up there on the way home.

She didn't expect to work late and presumably most of the overflow cases required just a brief investigation of the particulars. If those were on Norfolk Naval Station or Oceana she'd call into work and let them know she was headed directly into investigation just so she wouldn't have to deal with driving into work then having to drive four hours back to Norfolk, four hours back from then two back home. She could work the case directly, get the case wrapped up at home then go in and file the case or email encrypted files to her work station then attach cc: to the admiral so that he could look them over.

RADM Chegwidden appreciated efficiency. And that was how Meg intended on doing things. But the first day back at the office she needed to be there to get assigned her office and her cases and generally get the lay of the land. Then she would leap into her caseload with both feet.

The drive was relative uneventful. Hardly anyone was on the road at the time and she was able to make it to work by 0600hrs.

0600 hrs. EST; VF-41 Squadron Offices; NAS Oceana; Virginia Beach, VA

Animal stepped into the office. "ATTENTION! XO ON DECK!" one of the early birds attentive roared out a warning to all staff present.

"As you were," Animal said. "Good morning."

"Good morning, sir."

"Where's the CO?"

"In his office, sir."

"OK, Thank you. Hoss" Animal said as he headed for the CO's office.

Sticking his head in the door, "Morning, Rattler."

"Morning, Animal." Noting Animal was carrying both lunch and breakfast, Dale nodded and said, "...you might want to eat breakfast before sitting down and looking through this."

"Unpalatable?"

Rattler looked at him and said, "I don't know whats going on at RAG level but it appears they're sending 'em out half trained on systems and DACT, I have no idea why. Took 'em up over the last week after we got back and our four new guys barely knew their left foot from their right. We've lost four from our squadron to the 97 O-5 list; Jenkins fleeted up to XO of the Pukin' Dogs and Moreau went to the Gunfighters on the West Coast FRS as XO. Hanson was also promoted, he's now with the VF-33 Tarsiers as XO and Coleman went to the Ghost Riders as XO."

"So we got four new guys to replace four. We're still short crews for airframes. And who's going to O-4 from our squadron?"

"Kelly, Johnson, McTierney and Gordon all got named O-4 in the selection board - they all stick with us. Oh and CNO confirmed you're getting your selection of XO. The O-5 selection board list came out today, her name was on it and I pounced for you on her selection as XO" Dale replied. "If we have to send the new guys back to RAG I need consensus from you too." He rubbed his forehead.

"OK. If we have to slit throats, it has to be on the same page." Animal nodded. It wasn't a nice process but better that RAG have a second go with training them to standard without these nuggets pancaking a thirty-six million dollar airframe in the middle of a dirt field with a squadron that could ill-afford to lose the airframes they had.

The Black Aces were known as a tough squadron to get into and that they had to go through a vetting process to be able to wear the patch. Until you had been with the squadron a number of years, your place was not secure. Theirs was not a three-tour and done. Once you became an Ace you were one for life. The first squadron to blood the Tomcat was a milestone and was venerated amongst the crews.

Then there was XO who added a kill tally to VF-41's record by shooting down a JASDF F-15J in that brief spitball fight over economic trade sanctions. There was a rumor going around that XO tallied another one in that fight and that he didn't count it because he shot down an extended family member killing him.

Then XO went on to get two kills with the Howlers over the Sandbox.

Plus the fact that XO actually had the blue button for reducing the NKPLA by one hundred and sixty members, hand to hand.

The stalwarts in the squadron were regaling the nuggets about just how scary XO was and how he breathed fire and brimstone during his nugget vetting process.

River "Ripper" McTierney grinned at the young eager beaver of a nugget, "When I was just starting out in the squadron, he had me do three missions in one day to see if I had the stamina to go up when needed. My arms were like lead after three hops of yanking out Gs. And that's when XO decided to initiate a 1v1 and went all out on me. He wanted to see if I could hang with the best in the squadron even when I was wrung out tired."

"That guy who came in at 0605 was XO? He doesn't look that scary."

Metalman grinned at him, "hey nugget, he doesn't look scary...he is scary. There's a difference."

The cocky nugget chuckled, "yeah, we'll see."

Keeter shook his head sadly and solemnly intoned, "This one..." he pointed to the cocky one, "must've been dropped on his head as a baby."

Metalman gave the nugget a throat-slitting gesture and grinned an evil grin. Yeah it was a form of hazing but this was deadly serious. It was fine to be cocky, but one needed to have the skills to back up that bravado and most didn't.

Rattler and Animal wanted only the best in the squadron and if you didn't have what it took to wear the playing card patch, then it was a go back to FRS, thank you for your application, don't call us, we'll call you. It may have been harsh, but better to send the aviator back to FRS than planting an airframe in the dirt.

Animal, after eating, came out heading to the fridge with his lunch. The nugget looked at him, muscular, Asian, wore his hair in a style reminiscent of a Marine cut. Sharply pressed work khakis and naval aviator wings. On his collars were silver oak leafs.

The nugget shrugged his shoulders. "Still doesn't look scary..."

0600hrs EST, JAG Headquarters. Falls Church, VA

Meg sighed as she looked around the parking lot. Maybe she should have read the hours The first to arrive would normally be the JAG but he wasn't here yet. Evidently, their start time was 0700hrs and they were expected at 0700, not 0600.

I could have had an hour's more sleep. It wasn't too bad coming up even between five and six. The traffic was light between Fairfax and Falls Church. So I should be fine for another hour.

Meg decided she would eat her breakfast in the car while she waited on the first co-worker to arrive. After all no sense in letting breakfast sit for an hour.

0700 hrs; VF-41 Squadron Offices; NAS Oceana; Virginia Beach, VA

Animal stalked back into his office reading the official files on the cone-heads that the FRS had sent him. They didn't need half-trained youngsters that were directionally and technically challenged. The calibre of the squadron wasn't going to be messed with, at least not during his tenure as XO apnd certainly not after the squadron change of command.

Jugs was on the list for O-5 and Animal was retaining her as slotted in for VF-41 XO billet. As an XO, she was in a good position. She'd get Animal's CO position when he went to do a shore tour. And he'd call on her again when he next needed a DCAG to XO his Carrier Air Wing command. She was as good as they come and was worth her weight in skill and leadership.

Maegyn was now slated to be CO of VF-154 Black Knights. Her change of command was in four weeks Animal's change of command was in two weeks.

Metalman was not in zone for three years yet for O-4. And Jack after that fiasco in Cuba had an extra year before he would be eligible for making O-5.

Animal as he came out of his office succinctly growling, "Nuggets, briefing room..." and headed down the hall way.

Metalman chuckled like a harbinger of doom as the nuggets got out of their chairs. He then drew his finger across his throat. "Good luck, you're gonna need it..." That didn't reassure any of the nuggets with the exception of Mr. Cocky who walked down the hallway as if he had a pair of golden ones.

"Alright. Briefing consists of a 1v1 session against me. You went up against CO, now you go up against me. This will be your final test, fail and you're out; do something reckless and dangerous, you're out. You know the drill. If you don't impress you're out. Two of you get critiqued a day. By Thursday you'll know if you're going back to FRS probably sooner. If you can't win against a similar airframe, you're definitely gonna be lost against a dissimilar opponent. Your fight versus me is one hop; three graded dogfights. You get three out of three competent no hot dog moves wins during the fight, you've got a high chance of staying. You lose one, your chances drop to 50/50. You lose two out of three, you're gone. Understand?"

"Aye-aye, sir!"

"Rundell, Campanelli, you two are up, get your gear. TACTS pods, Training area delta, hard deck 5000 feet. File your flight plans and meet me on the tarmac." He stepped out of the room and the nuggets looked at each other and with what was ordered.

"Holy shit..." they said to each other.

"Aw, no prob," Cocky Jockey said.

"Yeah, in your dreams, Campanelli." Rundle said.

"Oh, I can dream. After I paste XO, 3-0, I can do a fly-by on the tower." Campanelli retorted as he put his harness on.

"You're a FNAEB waiting to happen." One of the others said to him.

Animal poked his head back in, "Can your yacking and move; you're wasting daylight!"

0900hrs; Tarmac outside VF-41 Squadron hangars ; NAS Oceana; Virginia Beach, VA

Animal headed to his mount, 102. The others had 113 and 114.

Campanelli was told to hold on the ground until Rundle was finished being tested.

It was about an hour and a half later before both jets appeared in the circuit again. As Animal and Rundle walked back into the hangar again, Campanelli saw that Rundle looked flushed and something weighed heavily on his mind. Evidently XO had not gone easy on him.

"You'll receive your results by end of day," Animal said perfunctorily, then looked over at Campanelli.

Campanelli felt a chill run down his spine. Was that a cold calculating grin that he beheld, a looking forward to pasting Campanelli's ass all over the sky. Campanelli forced his doubts out of his mind and tried to bring his own bravado back to bear but his doubts came back double strength especially when XO's next words were, "You're next..." Campanelli's RIO was a more experienced RIO Lieutenant Rick "Buddha" Wallace who'd been with the squadron four years. His callsign Buddha was because of his interest in Buddhist teachings and his inner unwavering calm in the backseat.

"You know anything about XO?" Campanelli asked Buddha.

Buddha looked at him and quoth, "the loud frog stays silent when the fox is near."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Buddha, like his namesake, remained inscrutably silent.

Animal and his RIO, Lieutenant Commander Jim "Scooter" Willis were discussing things prior to mount up. Then Animal looked over at Campanelli, "You're up!"

Buddha started walking out to the jet labelled 114.

0930hrs; Training Area Delta, Somewhere off the Coast of Virginia Beach, VA

One could almost picture Faltermeyer's Top Gun Anthem playing as background music.

In One One Four, Campanelli kept tight welded wing on Animal's F-14 as they flew into the training area. On Animal's mark. Campanelli split off to form up forty miles apart to get set up for their first engagement.

"Fights on, fight's on." The call made Campanelli react, pushing the throttles forward, he aimed a beeline towards Animal's Tomcat which was coming after him. This engagement was only to initiate missiles when one got into missile range, rear aspect only. No nose to nose shots. Thus it was infuriating to find himself dead after one pass.

"What the hell? I thought we weren't supposed to use missiles front aspect?!" Campanelli complained,

Buddha's response was dryly sarcastic,"He didn't. He put twenty mike mike right through your HUD." Shit, now Campanelli only had a 50/50 chance to make the squadron.

"Fight's on fight's on." This time Animal let Campanelli live on the pass but went into a series of evasive maneuvers into the vertical which nearly caused Campanelli to grey out. Evidently XO had extremely high G-tolerance. Campanelli came very close to blacking out when Animal pulled a yo-yo maneuver and forced Campanelli front and then Campanelli frantically had to throw his Tomcat evasive as Animal relentlessly pursued him. It was inevitable

"Fox Two on 114, 114 you are a mort". Campanelli closed his eyes in frustration as he formed up again for his last fight, a futile final fight against an already foregone conclusion, in this squadron you lose two consecutive fights as a nugget on probation and you were gone.

In fact until you received your railroad tracks your place in the squadron was not assured. It was only after you'd gone to sea with the squadron that a patching ceremony occurred within the confines of the VF-41 ready room. And the nuggets on the cruise were allowed for the very first time to wear the hallowed Black Aces patch. The black rimmed, white playing card with the ace of spades and a white 41 in its center. A brilliant red slash running from upper right to lower left with an A in both upper left and lower right as well as the name of the squadron BLACK at the top; ACES on the bottom. All the patched Aces wore their patch proudly; what they went through to retain their place in the squadron was the test of fire that proved they had the skills to be considered Black Aces.

It was a much subdued Capanelli that showed up in the squadron. When he returned the other two nuggets told him; Rundle's gone, CO pulled him in, thank you for your tryout but you are returning to FRS.

Campanelli knew that the same thing was about to happen to him when Animal walked in to the CO's office and let him know. He recalled saying the XO didn't look scary, he wished he could eat his words. The XO was one scary sonofabitch.

"Lieutenant JG Dario Campanelli," his CO's voice sounded like the voice of doom.

Fifteen minutes later Campanelli walked out silently shaking his head to the other two nuggets and walking slowly away. Later they learned he was packed up and sent back to FRS.

It was said that VF-41 oft-went to sea short-handed due to those stringent policies set in place by the COs and XOs of the squadron but it kept the standard and calibre of the men and women of the squadron high. In fact men and women were measured on an equal playing field. If the women could best the men at the same standard as the men, then the women were picked, if not, they weren't. And the women in the Black Aces were just as tough to beat. Other squadrons with laxer policies in DACT training were often surprised to find out that they'd gotten their asses soundly pasted by a female Black Ace; especially if they were walking past the Aces mount of the opponent they were just up against and seeing the naval aviator removing helmet to reveal a long mane of red hair, which usually meant Jugs or Ripper had just pasted their opponent's asses to the mat.

Animal had just gone through the list of crews and Fast Eagle 101 to 110 were crewed by squadron regulars leaving 111-116 un-crewed. A lot were leaving for the airlines; a stable environment, a large pay check and ability to go home when they wanted. With the fact that experienced crews were hard to find he often had to settle for the cream of the crop of FRS and hope to hell to browbeat the living shit out of them and get them deployment ready with pre-deployment training and what Rattler termed as hard was going to get even harder as squadron command changed hands. As it seemed as though JCS and COMNAVAIRFOR seemed to want to bleed his squadron dry of experienced hands to outfit other squadrons. Soon he was going to have to re-equip the whole squadron if he wasn't capable of retaining the good ones. Meanwhile it seemed like the cadre were more interested in numbers and lacking in quality. Weren't they supposed to send out trained aviators?

The RIOs were fine; they weren't the ones controlling the bird onto the deck. They sat in the back and twiddled their thumbs while the naval aviator drove. Actually they did a lot of things, controlling the weapons on the aircraft and locking on the AIM-7's they held the radar tracking control that allowed the Sparrow to go after the target, riding the beam of target illumination the AWG-9 radar on the Tomcat provided. They also were the second pair of eyes in the aircraft that kept the pair alive keeping a lookout for bogeys that could potentially be bandits.

But the RIOs weren't the "problem here and as long as they were able to tell the difference between bogeys, bandits and ground clutter on the AWG-9 and didn't get helmet fires when thrown tasks in the cockpit, they were acceptable to the task of being a part of the squadron. Their inner psychological characteristics needed to be stable and mature so that they could keep a leash on their front-seaters .

Besides he sent RIOs through the firing line with Scooter his own RIO who would train those RIOs to Black Aces standards and recommend who to retain and who to cut.

Animal was fine with the calibre of the back-seaters he was getting from the FRS it was the drivers causing the problems. He needed six RIOs and six drivers to team for his six operational air-frames left. The other four were spares and usually left at home during deployments.

Each F-14 squadron's dedicated role on the carrier was Fleet Air Defence and thus deployed with sixteen airframes. There were two F-14 squadrons attached to every carrier air wing so thirty-two Tomcats in total. However space on board a carrier was limited and the usual drill was to leave two airframes in NAS Sigonella in Sicily as spares just in case something happened to a deployed bird. That was also the preferred method for the Black Aces too.

If too many aircraft went tits-up there was going to be a major problem. If it came to that in Rattler's (soon to be Animal's) squadron, someone wasn't doing their job correctly and heads would roll.

He looked at the two remaining folders in this class. Lieutenant JG Catherine Davis, top of the class in marks in the simulator. Out at the boat she was bringing in greens and three wires, shows me she can get aboard the boat. But it doesn't tell me about her ACM ability. Well, I'll test her and see if she has the killer instinct.

He had six RIO nuggets and he had to have six fully trained naval aviators. And if they were good he was going to reduce the slots for O-2 down to three crews in the future. And keep the other 3 for 0-3 and higher. It was just getting to be too much of a crapshoot every year to replace crews cycling out. Maybe he should add an O-4 slot for one of the O-2 slots he was taking away and two O-2 slots for the other two. He could still take the six O-2 nugget RIOs an year. They were easy to season and make combat-ready. He was just removing 3 O-2 driver slots and maybe FRS would get the message loud and clear that CO did NOT like the calibre of drivers they were getting from them. Maybe they might actually get off their asses and start training them as naval aviators on type before sending them to a frontline squadron.

It was about 1235 hrs that he got a phone call on his office phone, "XO, VF-41, Commander Nakamura!"

"Hello, This is Mrs. Nakamura calling." Meg's mellifluous voice was a balm to his ears.

"Well, Hello, Mrs. Nakamura, what can I do for you?" He grinned.

"So...what are you doing?"

"Just finished throat-slitting two nuggets and sent them back to FRS for more training. Couldn't hack a 1v1 vs an old man." Animal quipped.

"Old man? I don't recall having married an old man."Meg affected an offended tone, her teasing coming through the phone-line loud and clear. "At least not during our honeymoon."

1235hrs EST; JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA,

""So...what are you doing?" Harm overheard Meg's playful question to someone, presumably her husband, as he and Mac were coming back from lunch; as he peered around the corner he could see that she was on the phone. It was confirmed Meg was talking to her husband as she referred to herself as Mrs. Nakamura.

Mac and Harm looked at each other with wry expressions on their faces. Mac smirked at him, "Trust me, they won't be off honeymoon mode for another six weeks."

"Old man? I don't recall having married an old man...at least not during our honeymoon." Harm rolled his eyes while Mac tried to stifle a burst of laughter.

"So what would you like to do...and keep it clean, I'm on the office phone."

Harm had to step on his own foot to keep from laughing his head off. Mac retreated into her office in order to collapse in her chair cacchinating

Meg rolled her eyes. "for dinner along with the stew? I was thinking about bringing home some garlic toast."

Evidently Animal must have liked the idea because Meg said, I'll pick some up on the way home. I'll see you at home, love you..." she hung up, then got up to see Harm barely containing his mirth. "What?!" Meg grumbled peevishly.

"How's married life?" Harm asked trying to stifle an amused snort of laughter. She looked over to see Mac convulsed in helpless laughter.

"What's so funny?" Meg asked Mac, eyebrow raised

"You and your husband..." Mac got to her feet staggering to the door, hand against her stomach "You two newly weds sound way too cute."

Meg could see the humor in the whole deal. "Yeah, this morning was difficult to leave such a nice honeymoon." She resisted using the other word for difficult as it would have made Harm roll on the floor in a paroxysm of helpless laughter. Naval Aviators and their gutter sense of humor.

"So what's hubby doing today?" Harm asked.

Meg gave him an evil grin. Drawing a finger across her throat she said, "he's throat-slitting nuggets." as evilly as possible.

Harm's eyes widened.

"He told me that FRS keeps sending him half trained new aviators and he keeps having to kill them and dump their carcasses back on FRS's doorstep."

Mac's eyes went as wide as pie-plates.

"Oh," Meg said nonchalantly, "he's telling the FRS in his own way to retrain these rejects and send them elsewhere. And that he wants better quality victims the next time." She smiled innocently.

Mac looked at Harm incredulously. "What does she mean by kill them?"

Harm said, "I think Meg says that Animal takes them up, and kills them in aerial training, cuts them from the squadron retention and fires them back to RAG and tells them to retrain them till they meet fleet standards then ship them out to some other squadron."

"Why not back to VF-41?"

"He won't take them again, you fail once with them, you've failed for all eternity. It's always been this way ever since the squadron first-blooded the Tomcat in '81." Harm said. "That was the year before Animal joined the squadron. And its been a rite of tradition ever since. In fact your first two years you are with the squadron you aren't secure. You screw up you're out. Whether it's doing poorly in a training evolution or on the boat (too many yellows) you can get cashiered out of the squadron just like that if you're a driver." He snapped his fingers. "RIOs have a slightly easier time. In fact if you are an O-2 you aren't allowed to wear the squadron patch. You have to earn it in this squadron. You don't get patched till you've proven yourself."

"Sounds like a motorcycle gang." Mac said.

"Worse. There's no second chances. You fail once with them, you're persona non grata. They won't take you back. And they can and will take on anybody and kill them in the air and to tell you the truth; I wouldn't mess with them on the ground either. Last group to try to pick on them got the whole squadron beating the shit out of them. Rumor has it that if the Black Aces are in the air, the Russian Air Force stays on the ground." He grinned. "That might be a tall tale, but I heard the last intercept of Russian Frontal Aviation Su-34s two months ago in the Med ended with the two F-14s from the Black Aces vectored to intercept buster, the six Russian paints did a complete one-eighty and put out Mach 2.4 back the way they came. The second the Russians heard from their trail listening into communications that Fast Eagle was in the air and had just been told to intercept and escort, they beat tracks."

"They have women in the group?" Mac asked. This sounded like a place where only guys would get selected, at least to her.

"Yeah," Harm's answer shocked Mac, "...they're held to the same strict standard as the men, no favoritism. You earn your spot and the women are just as tough to beat as the men." Harm stated. "I've heard Jack tell me about Jugs and he's completely enthralled with Ripper and her RIO Bunny, According to Jack, Hot Buns can also bench press 375 lbs." Mac winced when she heard the nicknames of Jugs, Bunny and Hot Buns; those sounded extremely sexist and told him so. " Mac, if you think that's bad you really don't want to know LCDR Lipper's callsign and he's a guy.

"How do you know so much about them?" Mac asked Harm.

Harm reached into his uniform, pulling out a black-edged (authentic) playing card patch, the true patch of the VF-41 Black Aces. White 41 embroidered in the center of the playing card. He grinned. "My patch, always keep it near my heart; I may be a Howler as a nugget, but I've earned my status as a Black Ace , earned it in 1990 when Animal and I were called up to the Black Aces to help them in that war against the Japanese during the hostilities with the trade war. The F-15J was Animal's first kill."

He ushered them into his office and showed them a picture on his shelf saying "It's a Tomcat off the USS Theodore Roosevelt and can you see the black ace of spades on the fuel tank? That was my plane during that whole thing with Japan. And I have one with Animal and me hanging out near the tail of the Tomcat with a Black Aces marking."

Both men were wearing flight-suits and both had Black Aces patches on their flight-suits.

"Wow, I never knew youwere a Black Ace." Meg was impressed that Harm was a member of her husband's squadron. An alumni, but still a patched member.

Harm puffed up with pride as both women looked at him indulgently. "You have to be the best..."

Mac held the pin. "So...how does that explain Jack?"

"Must be a favor to the CNO." Was Harm's snarky reply.

"As a matter of fact," Meg asked, "would anyone like to come to the VF-41 Change-of-Command Ceremony the weekend two weeks from now. The date is May 31st I have to take down names to give them to VF-41's out-going CO so he can generate invitations." Harm's grin widened as his time in a squadron meant that he knew what an outgoing CO had to do to in terms of communicating with an incoming CO regarding guests and coordinating matters having seen his former squadron CO CoC with the XO of his squadron to become the new CO.

"Oh, I gotta be there for this..." Harm said, "XO taking over the squadron from CO?" He asked.

Meg looked at him with what seemed like a look of wifely pride in her husband. "Yes...Tosh is taking over the squadron from Dale Kinnick."

"Rattler's the CO?" Harm knew Rattler from the investigation, he'd interviewed the guys who did the follow up recce run.

"Yup he got CO after the whole crap with Campbell after they returned from deployment, I heard from my husband when we reunited on the TR before we got married. And well Tosh became his XO after returning from rehab so he told me. And we found out that Dale is going to staff shore duty at our informal wedding reception so Tosh gets squadron command. Dale tells my husband that right at the table while we're all eating, pulls out a set of orders from his dress whites inner pocket and hands them to Tosh."

Harm looked sad for a moment, "Wish I'd been there to see you get married. Meg, you must have made a beautiful bride." Mac patted him on the arm sympathetically.

"So I can put you two on the list to come to the Change of Command." Meg asked, a big grin on her face. Working with Harm and Mac was turning out to be not so bad. Since she'd apologized to Meg on that day at Quantico, Mac had been nothing but friendly, exchanging pleasantries in the lunchroom and inviting her to sit with them at lunch in the mess.

"Oh, of course we're coming...We wouldn't miss your husband getting his first command. The first of many I'm sure." Mac informed her with a grin, as Harm looked at her,

...and the admiral also stated that "I wouldn't miss a JAG member's spouse's Change of Command. Count me there. " when he found out.

Bud and Harriet both wanted to as well. "Oh, of course. Ma'am, we'll be there."

So it was a weekend jaunt down to Virginia Beach on Friday night two weeks from now in order to be bright-eyed and bushy tailed the next morning.

1700 hrs EST;VF-41 Squadron Offices; NAS Oceana; Virginia Beach, VA

Getting into his Mustang, he started the engine. Exiting the base he pointed his nose towards Norfolk and his destination.

Kaneshiro's Japanese Foods was open til eight PM and Animal figured that he would grab the rice, pay and be on his way if they had the large bag of rice. Of course the daifukulooked interesting too but since all he needed was the rice he picked that up, paid and headed out to his car; putting the rice in the trunk. Closing the back hatch he got back in his Mustang and headed towards MCB Quantico.

1940hrs. EST; Room 325, Marine Corps Base Quantico VOQ; Marine Corps Base Quantico; Quantico, VA. MAY 19, 1997

Meg looked up as the door unlocked and Animal walked in with a large bag of rice perched on his shoulders, jauntily wearing his officer's cap and grinning, "Honey, I'm home..."

"Wow, that bag of rice is huge."

"Yeah, we Asians eat a lot of it." Animal grinned at her. "Trust me, this thing may last a month. Probably not."

"I remembered you were getting rice and you were going to make some tonight for tomorrow. So I decided to bring home garlic bread for tonight's dinner along with our beef stew."

"Oh, that sounds good." Animal told her.

"It was on for ten minutes high heat then warming at low heat." Meg informed him.

"Oh, that should be nice then. I'm so looking towards the stew." Animal said, washing his food containers out after getting the rice bag put down and getting out of his uniform and into civvies. "Shall I make the rice for tomorrow now before we start eating?"

"If it saves time instead of you rushing through a meal to try and get stuff done."

"So how's your case load? Animal asked as he took a knife and slit the rice bag's thread at the top so that it could be pulled open, taking a scoop and putting three scoops of rice in the rice cooker so that he could start rinsing the talc off the rice.

"It's not bad. I got a few of the backlogged cases. One of which involves me going out to Norfolk to talk to witnesses so I'm planning on stopping in at Norfolk first thing in the morning and calling the admiral to let him know I'm doing interviews. I'll fax him the particulars and then tell him what I've found in the Wednesday morning meeting. Lately he's letting me do my own investigations right off the bat and I have the latitude to draw a partner on a case from the Norfolk office if I need a second pair of hands on the investigation."

"Well, stay safe, honey..." Animal finished up the rice rinsing and put it in his rice cooker which had been wiped down with a damp towel and the lid and rice pot that went in the steamer had been thoroughly washed. Animal put the washed rice in the rice pot into the cooker which just involved setting the pot into the heater element at the bottom of the cooker. And tapping the onbutton, he saw the red cookingsensor light come on so he knew the rice was now on and cooking

"I always do..." Meg reassured him. "Well, except for maybe that one time in...well...um...Seatac Island." Animal's eyes widened, he knew what was stored there. "Ended up going for a swim in a lake fully clothed in my dress blues. Thanks to a couple jail-breakers." She said casually.

"I'm not going to ask what happened there." He muttered, "I might have a coronary."

Winding up for the zinger, Meg, having just a bit of an evil streak in her, loving to tweak her husband, said nonchalantly, "Well, it's just as well..." she paused dramatically while leaning her head on her husband's shoulder, "...since Cait and Harm kept me from being blown into subatomic particles."

"WHAT?!"

"I take it your clearance is high enough?" Had to check first.

Animal had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming especially when asked about clearance and Meg having been in Weapons, "Enough for specials since F-14s were cleared to carry in desperate cases." Animal was sure he was going to get heart palpitations from what he was going to hear next.

After Hemlock, he wasn't sure if Meg lead a cursed and charmed life combined. Surviving being shot in the head by sheer chance, the bullet missing several vital parts of the brain doing an intricate passage by-passing the brain-stem, and lodging itself in the skull bone area right by her left ear miraculously not hitting any vital areas. The Bethesda medical surgeon did an incredible job in removing the bullet without complicating matters and Meg showing impressive recovery that could be classified as miraculous regained consciousness almost seventy-two hours later and was out of the hospital almost a week later with the doctors proclaiming that was the fastest they'd seen someone get better after surviving a gunshot. It was also lucky that Hemlock's pistol was a typical assassin's pistol firing a low-powered .22 pistol round if it hadn't been, Meg would no doubt have been playing a harp dressed in a robe up in the clouds.

When he'd gotten that call from Harm, he'd raged helplessly because he was still three months from returning to the States from continuing his deployment as the O-5 disciplinary officer for VF-41 enlisted and JOs. If he'd made that choice to go back with them he'd have been with them and he'd have been by Meg's bedside keeping vigil. He'd basically told Harm to keep him appraised of Meg's condition when he went on bathroom break from sitting by Meg's hospital bedside.

"Well, nothing ruins a day faster than being cuffed to a pole in the magazine with a bunch of W35s one of which is live..." Meg's tone was way too casual for Animal's liking because the blood practically drained out of his face.

The W35 atomic demolition warhead was dial-a-yield from 10 tons (designed to blow a hardened blast door and render the area around it lethal with radiation) all the way up to 1KT (which would make an entire six block radius of a town very unhappy and scatter radioactive fall out forty miles away as it would be a ground burst not to mention leaving a very large crater in the ground). In other words, Meg would have not just been subatomic particles, she would be glowing green highly radioactive deadly subatomic particles.

Animal took a deep breath and said, "Can you try and make sure that you won't get yourself strapped to a Minuteman III the next time?"

Meg smirked as she leaned in and kissed him, "Highly unlikely scenario, my love."

"Why is that?" He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"I'm not Air Force."

"Thank God for that!"

They both pulled the stew out of the fridge and started ladling the stew into two bowls. Then Meg, donning oven mitts pulled the garlic bread out of the oven and took out the cookie sheet holding the warm garlic toast.

The meal was absolutely delicious, but after the meal had to be preparations for sleep as they had another long day at work the next morning.

1000hrs EST; Training Area Delta, 100 miles off the Coast of Virginia Beach

After destroying the dreams of one Lieutenant JG Troy Jepson, Animal had returned to Oceana and told the next unfortunate candidate to mount up. This time Bunny was playing the role of the hapless victim's RIO. "Bunny" assessed Lieutenant JG Catherine Davis. A striking blonde; she'd probably get mistaken for a swimsuit model, but evidently she'd graduated tops in her class for aeronautical engineering and Bunny wondered what got this one into naval aviation.

XO wasn't going to go easy on Davis because she was a woman and that had put Animal square in the crosshairs of Congresswoman Bobbi Latham who believed that every woman should be given a chance to prove themselves. Hadn't that been proven to not work with two past ramp strikes. And not being competent in DACT would just get you dead. There was just no room for the slow within the ranks of the Black Aces.

Bunny wasn't liking having to fly this ACT hop. But XO was brusque and of course she was a lieutenant and he was a commander and the executive officer of the Black Aces. She just hoped Davis had her shit together. Bunny wasn't in the mood to trade paint today. And like Buddha with Campanelli, remained staunchly silent. One didn't trade how's the weatherwith the unpatched. The unpatched only spoke when spoken to, followed orders to the letter and flew in a competent manner showing that they had what it took to become Black Aces and maybe the protectors of the patch would deign to patch them on the cruise.

They had mounted up and Davis had shown that at least she knew enough to get the Tomcat up in the air. At least that was a relief, Bunny thought caustically least she won't need a seeing eye dog.

Animal didn't have high hopes for this candidate either as this was one of the worst retention offerings by the FRS in years. In fact Animal kept a database list of all patched aircrew members still within the Navy that he could call on, who were presently unfettered, to round out his deployment roster. He'd only had to rely on that list for one or two crews but this year it looked as if he would have to crew six birds with the alumni of the squadron just to get them deployment-ready.

"Fight's on, Fight's on..."

Davis instantly rolled inverted and went evasive as Animal homed in on her aircraft. They passed each other canopy to canopy nearly causing Bunny to nearly wonder if they were going to trade paint. At the merge, Davis yanked the Tomcat hard left rudder full stick down and then using deft touch on the throttle extended for separation then pulled back into the fight. But of course XO was right there. Going into a barrel roll to gain some offset separation, Davis found she had an opportunity as she'd managed to make XO overshoot. As Davis looked through her HUD she saw a chance and took the shot, "Fox Two"

The referee in his control booth back at base saw a digital missile leave the wing of 114 and track right up Animal's left burner can. "Fast Eagle 102; you're a mort."

Animal acknowledged the kill call and called out a knock it off to end the fight. Then it was a set up for an any aspect ACT match. Forty mile separation. "Fight's on, Fight's on" No one in Animal's squadron had been able to best Animal three matches out of three. And fight number two was even shorter as Davis called a Fox One from the outer edges of the missile's envelope which meant the radar-guided missile had to track via the AWG-9 radar illumination from the nose of her F-14 all the way to impact and Animal realized it as soon as he heard the sonorous tone of the referee. "Fox One call on 102, a hit. 102, it's not your lucky day, you are a mort." Two out of three.

Animal was impressed. Davis was showing caution. She'd already gone into close in dogfighting once with him at Sidewinder range and then she pulled a BVR on him at just inside the periphery of the Sparrow's missile range and hit him. She was showing him that she had the smarts to not get into the phone booth with him. So does she have what it takes to take me on in the phone-booth if I force her in there. So he formed them up with her in front in guns range, "Fight's on, Fight's on." Davis immediately broke hard left, forcing Animal to yank the stick up to avoid overshooting and giving Davis a chance to make a guns call. That move put them into a rolling scissors. Where one tried to force the other to overshoot. And Animal saw his airspeed diminish and he could also see that Davis's wings were starting to come forward in the classic low airspeed configuration. Then all of a sudden she pitched up into a nose up pitch-up, where she rolled over the top forcing Animal out front and calling, "guns, guns, guns"

The referee grinned, Davis had proven herself worthy of at least a chance. "102, you are zero for three, 114 good kill."

Animal was definitely impressed. Not only had she proven herself to be worthy of a shot at sticking with the squadron, but also showed ACM smarts and discretion unlike the others who were idiots with their hair on fire. "Form up on my wing 114, let's RTB." The two Tomcats slipped into welded wing formation as they headed back to Oceana Naval Air Station.

When they landed, he nodded to her, "return to the briefing room and sit there until Rattler and I talk to you." And walked away giving no hints. All in all a three out of three meant was that you had a good chance to stay with the squadron at least until you majorly screwed up again. She would end up being on probation in terms of whether her end point was being sent back to FRS or being patched if she made it to cruise. She was the last candidate of that particular batch. And hopefully she would get a favorable review.

1200hrs EST JAG Annex Office - Norfolk; Norfolk, VA

Lieutenant Commander Meg Austin-Nakamura was on the phone with RADM Chegwidden discussing the case that she was currently interviewing witnesses for.

"Yes, Sir, I think I'm coming to a conclusion that it would be in the best interest of this case to get the witnesses sequestered so that they don't have a chance to taint evidence. If you can get me the subpoenas to get them to testify, I can have them shipped up to separate quarters in the Navy Yard.

I understand, sir, I'll await the faxes of the subpoenas and then serve them with the aid of the Master at Arms "

1200hrs EST; VF-41 Ready Room, Naval Air Station Oceana; Virginia Beach, VA,

Lieutenant JG Catherine Davis's palms were sweating. The XO and the CO had been talking for a long time and that was making her incredibly nervous.

The door swinging open nearly made her jump as Commander Dale Kinnick and Commander Toshio Nakamura walked in. "Lieutenant JG..."

"Sir!" LTJG Davis snapped to attention.

"As you were." Animal said rolling gun camera footage of the entire fights and stopping it at sections he wanted to stress . "I noticed a number of key things that we wanted to discuss with you in debrief." He stated. "You started out tentative in engagement number one. Keep in mind that being tentative in a life/death match up vs a Warsaw Pact flyer will get you dead. Most aerial engagements last 15 seconds at most. Either you come into the fight intending to go full out, or disengage, extend; get out of Dodge."

"The good points are that your tactical efforts yielded good solid results, once you got over your initial hesitation you took control of the fight in the first three seconds of the turning battle, you led the target and waited for him to pull into your Sidewinder's kill box before launching it and as a result you got a kill. Second fight at BVR. A lot of candidates will think they have to get into the yard and go one on one to impress us. And that's not the reason for that particular engagement. BVR is use of tools and tactical reasoning. And you showed that today when you selected Fox One and chose to take out 102 at beyond visual range. That is what we were hoping that you had the smarts to do which you showed you did." Rattler informed Davis.

"Don't get into the phone-booth if you don't have to. I've seen too many get into turning battles and come out on the losing end." Animal stated. "Third fight; this time I threw you into the phone-booth. Why? Because I need to know if you can manage to fight your way out if you get forced into a situation like that. Here, you took the initiative by not allowing 102 to get a lock on you by breaking hard left into 102 so that you could try to force him to overshoot. The second part was suckering 102 in with the low-energy wing sweep then pulling into the vertical to force him to overshoot when he no longer had any energy. And then you pulled your nose into 102 tracking twenty mike-mike into 102's fuselage for the kill."

"The Black Aces are not at the top of the heap because we are hotshot jet jockeys. It's because we play smart when it comes to aerial engagements. We don't need idiots with their hair on fire. We need smart tactical flyers that know their mount and will use tactical knowledge and smarts to get the edge on their opponent." Commander Kinnick said. "And you showed today that you had the knowledge and the discretion to utilize what tactics yielded you the optimal results."

Animal extended his hand, "Congratulations, Lieutenant JG Davis, you're a probationary squadron member."