Chapter 11
The flight deck control room was a chaotic storm of flashing green and amber displays. Outside the thick, salt-streaked glass, the Pacific Ocean had turned an angry, churning black. Towering waves battered the starboard side of the USS Vanguard, sending violent tremors through the massive steel hull. Gale-force winds shrieked across the flight deck, turning the rain into stinging needles of ice.
Eleanor burst through the hatch, taking her place at the primary console alongside Master Chief Callahan, who was already coordinating with the air boss.
"Rescue helicopter MH-60S is fueled, crewed, and spooled up on Elevator Three!" Callahan shouted over the deafening ambient roar of the storm outside. "We have two Super Hornets on the catapults ready for escort. VFA-141 volunteered for the lead escort position. Pilot requested assignment directly."
Eleanor looked up at the intercom monitors, seeing Jake’s call sign blinking steadily on the tactical panel. A faint, respectful smile touched the corner of her lips. The young aviator had taken his punishment, learned his lesson, and was now stepping up when the stakes were highest.
"Clear Jake and his wingman for immediate launch," Eleanor commanded, her voice steady and absolute. "Tell them to establish a protective weather perimeter around the civilian distress coordinates and guide the rescue chopper through the turbulence."
"Copy that, Commander. Launching in ten seconds!" Callahan barked into his headset.
Through the reinforced windows, Eleanor watched the two massive F/A-18 jets leap off the catapults in rapid succession, their afterburners tearing a bright, fiery slash through the dark, stormy night. Moments later, the heavy MH-60S rescue helicopter lifted off the swaying deck, tilting forward into the fierce gale as it followed the fighter jets toward the doomed cargo vessel.
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For the next ten agonizing minutes, the control room fell into a tense, breathless silence. Every eye was glued to the radar and audio feeds streaming from the rescue zone. The wind interference was severe, breaking up transmissions into crackling static.
"Leader to Vanguard, we have visual on the Pacific Star," Jake’s voice finally cut through the static, sounding remarkably calm and composed despite the violent turbulence buffeting his aircraft. "Her bow is submerged, superstructure compromised. Civilian crew of six is huddled on the stern deck. Waves are breaking over them. We're vectoring the rescue chopper in now."
