am watching them.
Meyerkopf exhaled as he reviewed the report in front of him. “Rick, we can’t live this way. What if the readings get out of limits?”
“Sir, if they do, we can shut down Number One and operate on Number Two to complete the mission down here. Meanwhile, yes sir, if an assist team from Norfolk can visit us and give it a look, we’d love that. We’re always open to help and to increasing the knowledge of the crew. While we wait for their arrival, we are still operating the plant within limits.”
Shooting Sanders a sharp look, Meyerkopf pursed his lips. Enough for today, he thought. Point made. Operated by aviators the whole time, Coral Sea was less than ten years old and, in his view, showed signs of premature aging. It was good, he reflected, that the Navy occasionally assigned a submariner who “grew up” around nuclear power to oversee a carrier strike group and ensure the sound material condition of its vital flagship for future operations.
After Sanders’ come-around was complete, the meeting adjourned with no discussion of the air wing flying operations other than the previous days’ sortie count and expected weather for today. Meyerkopf seemed uncomfortable — or disinterested — in what the aviators were doing, even in support of the significant muscle movements involved in Assured Promise, drug interdiction ops, or unmanned helicopter test operations. As they left the room and entered the passageway, Sanders’ eyes met those of CAG Matson, and they both grinned knowingly.
“I guess bad press is better than no press, huh?” Sanders said under his breath.
“Yep, are there airplanes on this ship? Wish I could take some of the heat off,” the Air Wing Commander answered his friend.
“Thanks,” Sanders chuckled. “I’m off to go help my engineering department find a within-limits-and-holding-for-years radiation leak. You have a great day.”
“You, too.” Matson clapped Sanders’ back in encouragement.
* * *
As the little political drama played out in the flag spaces of Coral Sea, Wilson had just completed his flight briefing with Macho in Ready Room 5. Test pilot Lieutenant Commander Meadows was also scheduled to fly during this event, and Wilson wanted to know what he was up to with one of his jets.
“Mongo, what kind of testing are you doing today?” he asked.
“Interoperability tests with a Fire Scout, sir. We want to see how this unmanned aerial vehicle performs data-link transfer with a fleet aircraft.”
“Great, why don’t we rendezvous overhead the ship at recovery time?”
Without taking his eyes off Wilson, Mongo refused. “No can do, Commander. I may need to stay out if the tests go long or if the bird can’t get airborne in time.”