everything around him in his cocoon wound down.
He sat there, breathing rapidly, his hands crossed in his lap. The hydraulic noise of the top of the cockpit rising caused himto look up. Looking down at him was Dr. Dunning, his face a work of thunder, and the other three pilots.
“What in the hell were you doing, Shoemaker?”
Nash unstrapped and pushed himself up. His head was even with Dr. Dunning’s. “How in the hell do I know, Doc? One moment she was flying fine. You saw the photographs. We splashed those Tomcats, and the next moment, power to the engine failed.”
Shoemaker stepped over the side of the cockpit onto the hangar deck of the USS Boxer . He turned to the other three pilots. “Were you able to land your UFAVs?” he asked pronouncing the acronym for “Unmanned Fighter Aerial Vehicles” as a word.
“Piece of cake, Top Gun!” Pauline said.
Nash Shoemaker would have grinned if he weren’t so angry with Dunning and the mishap. Pauline was almost dancing with joy over her victory. And that’s what it was.
“This is really going to hurt the program,” said Dunning.
Lieutenant Valverde reached forward and touched Nash Shoemaker on the shoulder. “You all right, shipmate?” he asked, concerned. His dark brown eyes looked Nash over as if searching for a wound.
Nash nodded. “Another lesson learned,” he mumbled.
Shoemaker tossed his helmet onto the seat of the cockpit. “Doc, aircraft crash. It’s a fact of life that things not meant to be in the air tend to return to the ground when the things keeping them up stop. You have a victory here.”
“Yeah, Doc. When a non-flying object discovers itself at ten thousand feet and returns to Mother Earth by the most direct route, there tends to be a great reunion much to the detriment of the object,” Pauline added. “Ensign!” she shouted at Jurgen Ichmens, who was walking over to the group, his helmet tucked under his left arm. “Write that quote down. You’ll be able to use it someday at the Academy teaching new Navy officers about the laws of physics.”
Dunning’s eyes shifted back and forth. Shoemaker knew the man was weighing the pros and cons of the exercise. “Sure, Lieutenant Shoemaker. You are right. We have had a victory against manned fighters. But do you think they’re going to latch on to that? You can bet your sweet cheeks that everypilot—especially the flag-officer ones—are going to point to your crash.”
“You may be right, Doc.”
Lieutenant Valverde reached into the nearby ice chest, pulled a water bottle out, and handed it to Nash. “You sure you all right? You don’t look it.”
“Doc, on the other hand, you can also point out that while the prototype crashed, it was less expensive than having a heavy crash, and you didn’t lose a pilot in it.”
Nash nodded at Alan. “Thanks.” Then he looked at Dunning. “Doc, you sent four unmanned fighter aerial vehicles—UFAVs—piloted remotely by the four of us sitting in the hangar bay of an American warship fifteen miles off the coast. Those UFAVs engaged four of our top fighter aircraft flown by some top fighter jocks, and we won. In a live war, we would have shot them down.”
“And don’t forget, Doc,” Pauline added. “On our way back we have photographs that show us strafing the Marines on the beach. Man, oh, man, Doc, you are going to be one very important person when you get back to Washington. When do you think you’ll leave?”
Dunning glared at the taller female officer.
“Yeah, and you could be right about the crash,” Valverde added. “Those fighter jocks are probably scrambling all over themselves to get to the telephones to call Washington to tell them about it. And here we are stuck out at sea without a way to tell our story.”
Pauline reached over and tapped Dr. Dunning on his right shoulder. “This will be one time the Navy and Air Force join forces against a common enemy,” she said, chuckling.
“What’d you mean?”
He sat there, breathing rapidly, his hands crossed in his lap. The hydraulic noise of the top of the cockpit rising caused himto look up. Looking down at him was Dr. Dunning, his face a work of thunder, and the other three pilots.
“What in the hell were you doing, Shoemaker?”
Nash unstrapped and pushed himself up. His head was even with Dr. Dunning’s. “How in the hell do I know, Doc? One moment she was flying fine. You saw the photographs. We splashed those Tomcats, and the next moment, power to the engine failed.”
Shoemaker stepped over the side of the cockpit onto the hangar deck of the USS Boxer . He turned to the other three pilots. “Were you able to land your UFAVs?” he asked pronouncing the acronym for “Unmanned Fighter Aerial Vehicles” as a word.
“Piece of cake, Top Gun!” Pauline said.
Nash Shoemaker would have grinned if he weren’t so angry with Dunning and the mishap. Pauline was almost dancing with joy over her victory. And that’s what it was.
“This is really going to hurt the program,” said Dunning.
Lieutenant Valverde reached forward and touched Nash Shoemaker on the shoulder. “You all right, shipmate?” he asked, concerned. His dark brown eyes looked Nash over as if searching for a wound.
Nash nodded. “Another lesson learned,” he mumbled.
Shoemaker tossed his helmet onto the seat of the cockpit. “Doc, aircraft crash. It’s a fact of life that things not meant to be in the air tend to return to the ground when the things keeping them up stop. You have a victory here.”
“Yeah, Doc. When a non-flying object discovers itself at ten thousand feet and returns to Mother Earth by the most direct route, there tends to be a great reunion much to the detriment of the object,” Pauline added. “Ensign!” she shouted at Jurgen Ichmens, who was walking over to the group, his helmet tucked under his left arm. “Write that quote down. You’ll be able to use it someday at the Academy teaching new Navy officers about the laws of physics.”
Dunning’s eyes shifted back and forth. Shoemaker knew the man was weighing the pros and cons of the exercise. “Sure, Lieutenant Shoemaker. You are right. We have had a victory against manned fighters. But do you think they’re going to latch on to that? You can bet your sweet cheeks that everypilot—especially the flag-officer ones—are going to point to your crash.”
“You may be right, Doc.”
Lieutenant Valverde reached into the nearby ice chest, pulled a water bottle out, and handed it to Nash. “You sure you all right? You don’t look it.”
“Doc, on the other hand, you can also point out that while the prototype crashed, it was less expensive than having a heavy crash, and you didn’t lose a pilot in it.”
Nash nodded at Alan. “Thanks.” Then he looked at Dunning. “Doc, you sent four unmanned fighter aerial vehicles—UFAVs—piloted remotely by the four of us sitting in the hangar bay of an American warship fifteen miles off the coast. Those UFAVs engaged four of our top fighter aircraft flown by some top fighter jocks, and we won. In a live war, we would have shot them down.”
“And don’t forget, Doc,” Pauline added. “On our way back we have photographs that show us strafing the Marines on the beach. Man, oh, man, Doc, you are going to be one very important person when you get back to Washington. When do you think you’ll leave?”
Dunning glared at the taller female officer.
“Yeah, and you could be right about the crash,” Valverde added. “Those fighter jocks are probably scrambling all over themselves to get to the telephones to call Washington to tell them about it. And here we are stuck out at sea without a way to tell our story.”
Pauline reached over and tapped Dr. Dunning on his right shoulder. “This will be one time the Navy and Air Force join forces against a common enemy,” she said, chuckling.
“What’d you mean?”
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