Blind? She wondered how this could have happened to Trench. A popped blood vessel under g- force? Unseen chemical in the cockpit?
Like all carrier pilots, she was mindful of fuel, and through hand signals with Big Jake learned they had about 6,500 pounds each, some 45 minutes with a bare minimum cushion for the recovery. How much did Trench have? And where was he going to land, even if he could see to do it? The nearest land was Kingston, Jamaica, over 200 miles northeast… from the ship! For Trench, the nearest land at the moment was Colombia, which was some 250 miles south of Mother. Both options were bad: it was going to be the ship for Trench or nothing. All they could do was hope some semblance of sight returned to him, but before they could do anything, she needed more info.
“Trench, what’s your angels?” she asked him.
After a moment he answered. “I can’t tell… think between five and ten.”
Leveling at 15,000 feet, she accelerated to the southeast. Big Jake held his position on her in a loose cruise formation so he could also work his radar. She heard Strike ask Trench to squawk emergency in an effort to find him now.
“Trench, can you squawk emergency?” she asked him.
“Trying — fumbling with the switches because I can’t see them.”
“What’s your state?”
“Don’t know. Was in burner a long time to get away from the water. I think it’s around four-K.”
Annie thought, Four thousand pounds, with over 30 minutes till the ship was in a position to recover aircraft. Trench would be on fumes by the time he even had an opportunity to trap, and Annie needed to know if the ship was working on a plan to do that.
“Strike, three-zero-five. Is a Firebird rep working this problem in air ops? Once we find three-zero-two, we can guide him back for a Mode I approach. Recommend emergency pull-forward.”
Yes, Trench thought. A Mode I “hands off” approach was the only way he was going to get aboard — unless his sight reappeared in the next thirty minutes. He hoped his auto-throttles, flight control computers and data link were all up to the task. But first, the XO and Jake needed to find him. His mouth was bone dry from fear, and he reached down into his g-suit pocket to grab his water flask. He didn’t know how high he was and, for a moment, was afraid to unhook his oxygen mask. Screw it, he thought and removed his oxygen mask, allowing him to take a long drink from his canteen.
“Three-zero-five, Strike. We’ve passed your recommendation.”
“Three-zero-five, roger,” Annie answered. She needed to get Trench to squawk emergency to help everyone find him.