An attempt at writing a military techno-thriller, dealing with the possibility of a continuation of the war on the Korean Peninsula.
(technical discrepancies between this story and reality are the author's and are either honest mistakes or dramatic license. )
* * * *
The best helicopter pilot in the
fleet was what they needed to keep them alive, and fortunately that is who they
had. Wounded, blinded with pain and operating almost from instinct, Lt. Amelia
Parker fought for her crew’s lives in that moment, and won. Zebra -014, the
POS, the Hangar Queen, struggled on, with one engine on fire, tilting madly to
either side as Amelia fought the cyclic to hold on. She never knew how she
managed to stay awake with a 3” piece of aluminum rammed into her side, but
something inside the tough southerner kept her going. Perhaps it was the
toughness bred of four years at the Naval Academy, of 6 years of fighting her
way up the Navy ranks despite all the obstacles placed in her way. Zebra -014
kept going, Lieutenant Parker kept going, the crew lived. Seconds ticked by
like years. “Ramirez! Cut fuel flow on two, now! “Then, urgently “No! Not the
fire bottle, not yet! Cut the fuel!”
Ensign Hal Ramirez pulled his mind back from panic and moved his hand to
the fuel cutoff switch for engine two and hit it, then hovered over the fire
bottle. Engine two started to starve out as the fuel flow died. Then a brief
series of jerks on the fire bottle lever, shooting controlled amounts of
firefighting foam into the engine. The fire warning lights went out, but the
alarms kept beeping, their tone designed to wake the comatose. Zebra One-Four was designed to stay in the air
with one engine out, but doing so had a cost – the extra strain on Engine
number one meant an added chance it would overheat, seize up and quit. But the
risk had to be taken. They were out in the yellow sea, too far north for any
part of the embattled Korean peninsula to be safe, with the fleet under attack
by an unknown number of submarines and aircraft. Besides, Amelia Parker was old
school navy. She wasn’t about to give up, not while they had a plane that could
still fly – could still use its last remaining MK 50 torpedo to good effect.
She ordered Ramirez to stop pulling the fire bottle trigger, and then turned to
the crew chief to order him to do something dangerous. “Someone has to check
number two, Chief. See if it can be restarted.” Here Ramirez demurred –
“Skipper, you’re shot up, the bird’s barely flying -- I say we head back to the
barn. We can get another helo and come back. “With that, he started to reach
for the controls, his jaw working as if to say “I have the aircraft”. It would
have been an order with no going back. Perhaps a court wouldn’t blame him. But
Lieutenant Parker was not going to accept that. She looked at Ramirez, holding
the cyclic with her knees and with one hand on the .38 snub nose revolver
holstered under her left shoulder, her eyes burning with fury. “Negative. There
are no other helos available. There is no help available, Ram. We’re it. Yeah,
it was a million to one shot that the N-Ks would be here. Another mil that
they’d have a nuke. Intel said at their most pessimistic the N-Ks had 2, and
that they’d be missiles aimed at Seoul. But look at your radiation badge, Hal.
They had two nukes alright, and we blew one up. Your badge is in the yellow.
Mine’s orange – I checked. It’s us or them, and if we go out the fleet goes
with us.” At this point Chief Merton
called from the open door of 014, where he was leaning out, peering up at
engine #2, with a spotlight in one hand and his other on the cargo strap that
was holding him in. “can’t see much, boss. Engine cover on number 2 is fragged,
but it looks like the damage stopped there. The backup fuel line might still be
good.” Parker looked at Ensign Ramirez again, and said: “Hal. We have to. Set
your mind on that.” Here the aircraft lurched and she grunted in pain. Then her
eyes cleared, hardened and her jaw set. Her hands were back on the controls.
“Mister Ramirez, we are going back around, and we are going to blow that Pirate out of the water! “ Then, to Chief Merton: “Chief, prepare for
emergency restart on Two. “ When Amelia looked back at Ramirez, she could see
he had accepted her decision. Ramirez
echoed her words “restart on two, emergency checklist, abbreviated.” His hands
flew to switches, resetting circuits, rerouting fuel flow, and without being
asked, setting the fuel management system to automatically pump fuel from the
starboard side external fuel tank to the port side, in order to balance some of
the weight. With one torpedo gone and one engine questionable, Zero-One-Four
was handling like a dancer with a sprained ankle . * * *
what happens from here ? Z-014 saves the fleet, of course. It's heroism, dammit!
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