“Affirm, passing angels two. Mother is about two o’clock for fifteen miles heading southeast. We’re gonna do a right one-fifty-degree turn to hook in on final.”
“Roger.”
“We’re a little fast here. Tweak the throttle back a little and pick up the nose — just a little. Good. We’re gonna level off now. Engage ATC. We’re at two-fifty knots…. Good. Can you engage radar altitude hold?”
“Think so,” Trench replied.
Annie helped guide his fingers over the radio. “OK, select, AFCS… far left pushtile under the UFC. Now, the fourth option, switch down. Got it?”
Trench pushed the switches in sequence and lifted his arms above the canopy rail to show Annie before keying the mike. “How’s that?” Trent asked. The flight control computers were now flying the aircraft “hands off.”
“Good, we’re stabilized at angels one-point-three. Close enough. How you doing back there, Jake?”
“Good, fuel state four-point three,” Jake answered from his position behind and to their right, riding shotgun for the formation and scanning for traffic ahead of their flight path. With Trench stable for the moment, Annie needed to coordinate with the ship.
“Approach, three-zero-two with you on Mother’s one-eight-zero for ten, estimating low state one-point-five, requesting Mode One on arrival. The pilot is blind and wingmen are guiding him to final. Say expected final bearing.”
“Roger, three-zero-two, radar contact. Expected final bearing one-four-zero.”
“Roger, approach, and we’re gonna need a ten-mile hook, plenty of straight away. Can we expect a ready deck?”
“Expect that, three-zero-two.”
In their respective cockpits, Annie and Trench let go a sigh of relief. The ship was going to be ready.
Trench prepared himself for the approach, which he sensed would be his last — ever. Blind! Blind in the cockpit of a Hornet behind the ship with fifteen minutes of fuel! His best window to the outside world was his peripheral vision, low and to his left. He moved his head in deliberate motions to take in anything he could. Outside he sensed two shades of blue, light blue sky over deep blue sea, and he could make out the outline of the cockpit. He could even see his hand move over the switches, but he couldn’t focus on anything.
Trench had gotten better control of his panic, and he trusted Annie would set him up in the proper window for lock-on. Even if he survived, though, he figured this was the end, with a changed and uncertain future awaiting him. In fifteen minutes, he might be dead; if alive, he would still be dead. Either way, his life was over, and he felt the panic return. Annie brought him back.