Voluntary Separation (Chapter One)

Until I get several chapter written...I won't turn this into a separate blog...

"Voluntary Separation"
Chapter One - "Not Going Back"
Author: CdnJAGScribe
E-mail:
Rating: M
Classification:
Spoilers:
Summary: [Animal/Kimber] What happens when Animal and his XO realize their deepest feelings for each other. Will they do the right thing or will they let passion overtake them. And potentially ruin everything they've ever worked for.
DISCLAIMER: The characters Harm Rabb, Jr., Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie, Meg Austin, AJ Chegwidden, Bud Roberts, Harriet Sims-Roberts et al. belong (in concept if not name) to CBS/Bellisarius. Animal and all OC characters are the property of the author. No profit is being made from this story, nor is any infringement intended. Kimber Benton and Jerica Benton are from Jem and the Holograms and are copyrighted to the rightful owners of the cartoon from the 1980s.
Author's Note: My friend had the biggest crush on Kimber Benton of the cartoon Jem and the Holograms. And he wanted to pull her into the story as a character in a Navy Fic I was writing. Well that Navy fic ended up melding with rhe JAG universe and well, now Kimber in our story is a fully fledged character that has left behind the past of being in a band with her sister and bandmates, has become the XO of an F-14 fighter squadron and is fully encased within the Navy. Jerica on the other hand is now a well-known singer/songwriter and music producer who is now married to her longtime boyfriend, Rio, and still wonders how her sister, who was completely clueless in what she wanted in life; got her shit together, went to NROTC at UCLA and became a naval aviator flying Tomcats, working her way up to the rank of Commander and became the XO of the top fighter squadron in the US Navy. This is the cartoon Kimber not that abysmal trash remake movie.

I also made her Sim in Sims 3 fully intending for her to be my friend's Sims 3 sim's spouse, well that didn't happen and she ended up jumping my Tosh Nakamura sim in the shower. So hence the reason why this story idea popped out of the ether.

1030hrs EST; Office of the Commanding Officer, VF-41 Black Aces, NAS Oceana; Virginia Beach, VA 1999

"Hey, CO..." his XO's voice came from the doorway of his office. VF-41 Black Aces squadron CO Commander Toshio Animal Nakamura looked up from his file. "FRS (Fleet Reserve Squadron) sent us a bunch of new meat..." His XO, Commander Kimber Jugs Benton grinned a nasty grin, "I see it's throat-slitting time again with these new nuggets. So who's going up with them first?"

"You take 'em up and slash the list of sixteen down to a manageable number."

"Six drivers. I take it we're keeping the R2D2s?" Kimber asked.

"Sounds good to me." Animal smiled back at her. "Scooter will figure out which of the RIOs we're hanging on to."

"You got it, CO."

"Countin' on you, XO." Animal gave her a thumbs up.

"Don't worry, Animal, they won't be able to get me off their six."

"Be ruthless, Jugs."

"Aye, that." The VF-41 Black Aces were the top squadron in the Navy and Jugs and Animal were planning to keep it that way. New crew selection, as experienced patched members were fleeted up to XO positions within other squadrons, was ruthless. If one lost against the XO twice in a best of three dogfight match they were out. Kimber and Animal were looking for tactical smarts, dogfighting ability and the ability to get out of tight situations.

The CO and the XO were the ones to beat and neither was beatable by a nugget in any stretch of the imagination; they were too experienced in ACM. It was ability that determined if one would helm the squadron. And Kimber was no slouch in the dogfighting arena.

In DACT (dissimilar air combat tactics) training, Jugs had pasted so many of the aviators in the VFC-127 Cylons Aggressor squadron so many times there was a tally board in the Black Aces ready room as to who on the Cylons was going to get hit by Jugs today. The TACTS pod kept a running tally and every so often Animal liked to send the VFC-127 Cylons CO a cheery "so how's your day going?" e-mail with Jug's latest TACTS kill count on the attachment marked please read. That didn't make Animal or Jugs very well-liked in the VFC-127 ready room. Anything to keep the competition up.

Animal was certainly willing to challenge other squadrons to DACT training. After all one didn't constantly fly against similar opponents unless one was flying combat vs Iran. And if one couldn't down a similar aircraft while knowing the performance characteristics of their own plane they flew, they'd be lost vs a dissimilar aircraft.

And that was why those who failed twice in the matchups with the XO were cut from the squadron. There was no room for the slow in the Black Aces.

Jugs was Animal's wingman on most of their combat missions over Bosnia. And it looked as though hostilities were going to break out again so he needed the squadron at top capabilities. The Bosnians had tossed up Strelas after them when he'd flown TARPs missions through the hot zones; sometimes in volleys so one had to hit the flares while going evasive in mountainous terrain which was not fun on even the best of times and low cloud ceilings, 2330 hrs and uneven natural hard deck made evasive an absolute nightmare. He and Jugs had seen it all and had evaded it all and were seasoned combat veterans who had no time for jackasses with their hair on fire who didn't have any combat smarts.

1730hrs EST; VF-41 Black Aces Squadron Offices; NAS Oceana; Virginia Beach, VA

"I don't know what the hell they're sending us, Animal. But these guys are lucky to be able to fly a proper formation let alone fly combat. I wouldn't give them a C-9 to fly let alone an F-14. I cut them down to four. Took on two of them at a time and they still couldn't take me." Jugs said disgustedly putting the files of those who passed by the skin of their teeth on her CO's desk.

Lieutenant Catherine "Reaper" Davis leaned her head in. "Sir, FRS is complaining that you're sending a bunch of cones back."

"Well, Reaper, maybe if they sent me more like you, I wouldn't have to keep tossing their carcasses back on shore."

"Sir, I don't think I'm allowed to tell a silver oak leaf that." Reaper said grinning at her CO.

"Here, give me the phone and I'll tell him that." Jugs grinned as Animal told Reaper to hand him the phone. Jugs and Reaper went out into the main hall.

"So, ma'am is he going to...?" Reaper asked.

"Probably. But then he can get away with it."

There were snatches of the conversation including "...can't fight their way out of a goddamn wet paper bag." and "...if they can't tell their left foot from their right how the fucking hell are they supposed to find the bird-farm in the middle of the fucking ocean during blue-water ops?" and "you're going to keep getting them back until I get better quality prospects that I can use instead of having to slit their throats and toss 'em back." and a last "I don't give a fucking goddamn sour owl shit if you complain to the CNO! He'll fucking well agree with me. Now do your fucking job and send me some more nuggets the calibre of Reaper Davis!" along with a slammed phone. It sounded like something broke.

"Think I have to replace the phone again, ma'am?" Reaper asked.

"Yeah..." Jugs replied, "That's the sixth one this month. FRS complains every time he sends them back. They probably will whine to the CNO and CNO will probably tell them to shut up and do their job. That's the way it usually goes." Jugs rolled her eyes, "Good news is I heard that VADM Pointer is up for four-star selection next year and is a candidate for CNO's position. He's a former Black Ace."

Reaper grinned, "oh, I'm sure FRS will absolutely love that."

"Yeah, more screaming, whining and sobbing." Jugs smirked, "well, that's what happens when they don't do their job right the first time. Somebody's got to get up in the halls of power and drop shit from above." Jug's cell phone rang. "Commander Benton." She snapped.

"Kimber?"

"Jerica? What's going on?"

"Well, hubby and the Holograms are doing a concert for the USO. Thought you would want to join us on stage for old times sake..." her sister's voice sounded excited. "Aja always keeps asking if you're ever going to come back and play keyboards with us."

"Jer, I left that world behind a long time ago. My life is the Navy and we deploy on a combat mission in three months." Kimber said warily. Sis was always trying to rope her into a return to the stage. "My CO and I have a lot of work to do to get this squadron combat ready."

"So have you told your CO how you feel about him." Jerica's tone was contriving.

Kimber rolled her eyes, "Sis, I'm at work right now and that would be grounds for an Article 32 hearing with a Conduct Unbecoming charge. I worked too damned hard for these silver oak leafs to toss them out in the trash."

"You have changed, Kimber." Jerica said sadly. She remembered a Kimber who was always guy-crazy and sometimes fell for the wrong guy. But now it seemed like Kimber was all business, no more joking, no more naïveté; she seemed older and more experienced than Jerica herself and certainly a lot more jaded, "Sometimes I don't know if I even recognize you."

Kimber sighed, her sister had always been the one enthralled with the show business spotlight. Kimber had just played along because she loved her older sister but eventually she needed more substance in her life than just playing in a band, "I grew up, Sis. I realized that there is stuff beyond Tinseltown and the glow of stage-lights and cheering crowds. I flew in combat in Bosnia flying wing protecting Tomcats on TARPs runs. Some of the pictures that came back with me, sis, would wake you up in the middle of the night screaming." She paused and when she spoke next, her voice grew hard, "Mass graves, sis, bodies upon bodies. The Serbs committed mass genocide. And we had to go in there and make them stop. I had to drop bombs on Serb villagers who were going after Croatians and Bosnian refugees. We levelled an entire city block with 2000lb LGBs because some Serbian General thought it would be a great idea to park a Shilka in a hospital cul-de-sac and we had to remove the threat to NATO air forces going in to fly air cover. Sis, that's what I've been doing just this past year so I don't miss the glitz of show business. I truly found my calling. Every time I think back to the glamor of the stage I remind myself about why I put the uniform on and fly these missions. I'm a military woman now, Jerica, a combat naval aviator with well over 5900 hrs in the F-14. I don't miss my keyboards and I wear my uniform with pride. I've done a lot, sis, including having flown in the Gulf War where I shot down an Iraqi MiG 29 Fulcrum and became a MiG Killer. So I've changed a lot from the star-struck naive kid that was playing in our band. So you're gonna have to synth the keyboards or get a replacement keyboardist. Jer."

"Alright, if that's what you want. But promise me that you and your squadron will show for the concert. You can't be that brutal a task-master to deny your squadron a little down-time."

Oh...she don't know me too well...do she? Kimber smirked, quoting Bugs Bunny in her head, "We'll see, I'm not promising anything. And the squadron better impress me and Animal or nothing doing."

"You are a harsh taskmaster... Kimber" her sister told her.

"I'm 33 years old, Jerica, I've fought and vanquished enemies in aerial combat and did my part to serve this country, and part of my job is to make sure this squadron is combat ready at all times. The next war is always just around the corner."

Jerica sighed again, "Sis, if I didn't know better, I'd be wondering who turned my sister into a clone of General George S. Patton."

"Wrong service, Sis."

"What?"

"He's Army...I'm Navy. Try Admiral Bull Halsey."

1820 hrs EST; VF-41 Black Aces Squadron Offices; NAS Oceana; Virginia Beach, VA

"Was that your sister?"

Kimber turned around to see her CO standing beside her. She gave him a heavy sigh along with a roll of her eyes nodding. Animal understood well, family could grind your gears especially immediate ones.

"Yeah...she's always trying to get me to rejoin the band. I can't seem to get through to her that I've changed in many ways from the naive teenager that used to play in her band." She snorted derisively, "I think she still thinks I'm 18 and she thinks she's 23 instead of us being 33 and 38. It's been fifteen years since 1982 and a lot of things have happened since then. I went to university in 1982, enrolled in NROTC on a whim just because I thought the uniforms were cool. Had no idea of what I was going to do until I went to an Airshow in 1984 and I saw the Navy's Blue Angels and I thought wait a minute I wanna be a naval aviator. 1986 I get commissioned as an Ensign 1988 I've made it through flight school and I'm headed for FRS and then the Black Aces. Three years later we go to war and that's what changed my perspective, that I had to deal with myself and groom myself into a naval officer and start taking my service oath seriously. Instead of not knowing what I wanted out of life. I had to figure out what I wanted out of my naval career, did I want to aspire to command, or just let the flow take me for the next twenty or however many years?"

"Well, Jugs, you've certainly come a long way from nugget to XO and I'm sure you're gonna make a good CO too. This is technically my last deployment with the squadron, I'm onto senior War College and a staff tour. After '99 you change type to the Super Hornet two-seater and you got to prep them on that yourself. In fact, I've always wondered what my place in the Navy is after the type change-over. They'd have to retrain me for type in the Rhino and that's a lot for someone who's going to be spending most of his time hanging out on the PriFly when he gets his eagles. So my question is do I really want to stay in past my twenty?"

Kimber looked at him with some concern, "You think you'll get out? I only have 12 years in technically the only reason I'm an O-5 is because the selection boards frocked me two times."

"You could go reserve until you finish your twenty if you're so inclined." Animal suggested, "But why you'd get out before completing twenty active years..." he paused, "There aren't as many slots for O-5s in the reserves. But if you want, you can try."

"It's something to think about." Animal nodded as Jugs said this. "By the way, Sis says she's doing a USO tour around the East Coast bases. Evidently the whole band is playing. And of course, Sis's hubby, being their long-time manager wanted to make sure the tour was a massive one so he suggested hitting all the major bases including Oceana. She called me asking me if I'd go on stage for old-time's sake."

"So are you?" Animal asked He'd heard Kimber sing before when the squadron got themselves wasted at the O'Club and decided to do Karaoke but never with an actual band. Kimber had a gorgeous voice and always left audiences wanting more of her singing no matter what cover she did; especially the cheers that ensued when she pulled out Shania Twain's Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?

"Oh, hell no, XO has to keep a certain amount of dignity. And if I got up onstage with the Holograms, I'd never live it down. They'd be constantly asking me to sing Outrageous. And I have to tell you, I hate that song! It's so bloody peurile." Kimber rolled her eyes, "But I swear, back when Aja and Jer wrote that, we thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. Nowadays..." Kimber emphasized; winked at him and started singing a few lines a capella of The Colour of My Love ;her voice was soft and beautiful and the guys in the squadron leaned away from the pool table to listen in, "I prefer covering Celine Dion songs at karaoke." she said tapping Animal lightly on the nose with the pad of her right hand index finger.

The image in Animal's mind of Kimber Benton dressed in a flowing blue dress holding a microphone singing My Heart Will Go On ran through his mind for a few laps before he was able to trip it and squash it.

Thinking such thoughts about his XO was dangerous territory since Kimber was extremely attractive as well as a great combat naval aviator and her voice was absolutely gorgeous when she put it into full song.

The UCMJ would have him on an Article 92 Conduct Unbecoming so fast his head would spin if he and Kimber became involved in any way shape or form other than their formal Commanding Officer/Executive Officer relationship within the auspices of the chain of command within the Navy. Unless he and Kimber were to retire, he and she would forever be not allowed to date in any way shape or form.

Kimber on the other hand was eyeing her CO and wondering what he was thinking. And she mused with some amusement that the old Kimber was still there buried under a pile of Navy Regs and years of self discipline; the Kimber who wanted a guy that she could trust and live with in terms of his idiosyncrasies.

She had that kind of guy in her commanding officer and good friend, Tosh Nakamura. They'd flown together, they'd fought in the Gulf War together, albeit in different squadrons: he'd started out in the Black Aces, then went to RAG FRS to train new and upcoming naval aviators in the F-14A, B+ and D Tomcats.

After that, he went to the VF-241 Howlers for a period of three years.

Then he'd come back to the Black Aces and fought with them along with his protege from FRS and wingman in the Howlers Lieutenant Harmon Rabb Jr. then in 1994, he'd gone after his downed squadron mates in a pitched battle against North Korean regulars who were trying to capture his squadron-mates when they were downed in North Korean territory after doing an ill-fated TARPs run. He'd managed to get them out taking out one hundred and sixty of the North Korean soldiers in pitched battle in hand to hand combat armed only with rifles and grenades on a hill only monikered with a number, Hill 175.

Kimber was there when the ceremony at the White House happened; she was a Lieutenant Commander standing at attention and saluting as the President of the United States draped the Medal of Honor around Animal's neck.

And now they were CO and XO respectively of the VF-41 Black Aces. They'd flown as wingmen and flight-leaders on some of the most dangerous missions of the Serbian war over Bosnia. She smiled as she remembered the old Kimber Benton with the Holograms would have gone gaga over the Navy hero but the Commander Benton with two Distinguished Flying Crosses, three Navy Commendations, a Presidential Unit Citation and the veteran of seven deployments as well as 1400 combat sorties was just proud to have served with him and to be spoken of in the same revered tones as the XO that served with the famed Medal of Honor recipient and CO in their squadron and that her accomplishments were thought of as nearly on par though maybe not as risky as putting one's life at risk above and beyond the call of duty.

And it had to be said that Commander Kimber Jugs Benton did admire her commanding officer and she oft wondered if she was falling for him as she felt good whenever they spent time together going over even the mundane minutiae of squadron command duties such as logging the maintenance records of the Black Aces F-14As and how much downtime as opposed to the birds being up. She chalked it up to making sure everything was running smoothly but perhaps there was something more than that.

Did she want to stay in the regular Navy or go reserve, once he retired, to finish out her twenty and retain her pension? Why did she want to tie her career aspirations to his? It wasn't an answer that she could articulate except at home in her own quarters off-base and the Navy had forbidden any exploration of that kind of idea. Since the UCMJ could come down on them for even thinking about each other in that way they needed to tread lightly.

"A penny for your thoughts? XO?" Her squadron CO asked noting Kimber's pensive look.

"Nothing that would be best articulated, CO. I might get in a bit of trouble with the JAG." Kimber said enigmatically as her CO's eyebrows raised. That would keep him wondering.

"Who'd get in trouble with the JAG?" Animal and Kimber both rolled their eyes. Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Jr's voice was clearly heard as he made his presence known Harm had just come back to the Judge Advocate General Corps from the Raptors. The Raptors were flying combat missions over the same territory that the Black Aces had been flying months earlier; still taking sporadic ground fire but the Aces had eliminated most of the heavy AA (anti-aircraft) artillery and SAMs (Surface to Air Missiles)

"Nobody...speculation...". Kimber rapidly said. Looking over at the mille-rind on the lieutenant commander's left collar, she raised an eyebrow sending the junior officer a drop-the-subject warning glance. Even though Harm had three years on Kimber in the service, she still was the one wearing silver oak leafs and well, in the United States Navy, silver oak leafs trumped gold so she was the senior officer and Harm considered the subject dropped. "So, what brings you to NAS Oceana? Just nosing around? Wanted to hang out; catch the sea breeze, watch the airplanes?" She raised an eye-brow.

"We're investigating an incident where an F-14 traded paint with a F-5E" Kimber rolled her eyes at that. She'd heard that a Sundowners Tomcat had come back with a smear of blue from hitting the port wing of an F-5E which had gone in killing the Tiger II pilot. It had been reported in from the Cylons end but not from VF-111's last she heard, the Sundowners junked the wing, replacing it with a wing from the squadron's resident hangar queen until they could attach a fresh wing to the bird. All good as new, supposedly none-the-wiser.

"Heard a Sundowners 'cat traded paint, it was none of ours." Kimber said shortly and as dismissively as possible.

His Marine partner followed up with, "The Sundowners' CO told us it was your squadron." Her voice held a triumphant tone of someone catching the respondent in a lie. Kimber caught the inference and reached flash-point.

"Our maintenance records are open book. You see the records from One Eleven or are you just speculating?" Kimber snapped. "Lieutenant Colonel?" Kimber had been in rank a full year over the former Marine attorney major and didn't have time for unsubstantiated accusations. "Go down to our maintenance and check and see if we have any cosmetic touchups for the week of the incident and then go back and harass the Sundowners because..." Kimber stepped into the personal space of the Marine with the imperious unflinching gaze of a higher time-in-rank O-5 who knew she was higher in the pecking order. "I'll guarantee that someone is hiding something and it is not the Black Aces. Understand? LIEUTENANT COLONEL?!" The last was a whip-lash of a verbal remonstration with an implicit do your fucking job correctly! staff puke!

Harm winced while Animal grinned at him as he shrugged his shoulders. Kimber could chew someone's head off if she had to and woe betide the lower ranking fuzzbutt who crossed her. "We'll go check the maintenance records, ma'am, let's go." Pulling the bristling Marine Lieutenant Colonel away from the equally seething red-headed Navy Commander, Harm hastened to go implement the Navy Commander's suggestion.

It was twenty minutes later that both Animal and Kimber saw Harm and Mac step out of their hangars and head straight towards the VF-111 squadron hangars with a few MPs in tow. Animal knew that some serious shit was going to hit the fan for VF-111.

Commander Darren "Skunky" Whittle had always been a renegade but Animal had never thought he'd stoop to blaming another squadron for their mistake. Skunky was in a big deal of shit and it wasn't going to look good for him.

"I'm surprised she got up that far in rank if she's going to jump to conclusions like that." Kimber snarled, still testy. She was not impressed. The Black Aces owned up to their mistakes and so far their safety record was impeccable because of their stringent qualification procedures, taking only the cream of the crop when it came to candidates for the squadron and tossing those that didn't meet their requirements. It was about two hours later that Harm came back to the Black Aces offices/hangar and said they had arrested those responsible over at VF-111. Jugs was still seething and it was lucky that LCOL Mackenzie wasn't anywhere near her or she would quite probably go incandescent nuclear. "Maybe she should investigate further instead of taking the word of someone untrustworthy and making false accusations that could potentially ruin careers." She stopped short of telling Harm to tell his investigative partner to go take a long walk on 5R/23L which just so happened to be active.

"LCDR Rabb, you may be junior in rank to your investigative partner" Jugs seethed, "But if your superior is going off barking up the wrong tree, then perhaps your job is to dissuade them of doing so unless she wants to find herself a job in records in Marine Judge Advocate Division Twenty-Nine Stumps." She looked at the phone meaningfully. "All it takes is one phone-call."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed!" Kimber snapped out.

"Aye-Aye, ma'am." Harm knew a dismissal when he heard one and quickly made himself scarce. And seeing as how Animal made no attempts to save his ass from his XO's chew-out, then perhaps he was in the wrong to not have told his superior to "stand-down". In fact his very positioning of himself at Commander Benton's 0730 position marked him as prepared to back up his XO.

NAS Oceana Parking Lot, NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA

Harm pondered that all the way out to the Navy Crown Victoria where he met up with Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie who was still bristling at the perceived slight from the red-headed Commander. He was more than willing now to set her straight on the situation.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am." Harm asked respectfully.

"Permission granted…though I know you're going to speak your mind regardless." Mac looked at him with a wary glance.

"Ma'am" Harm said slowly calculating his words carefully so as not to tread the very edge of insubordination. "You saw her ribbons?"

"What about them?" Sure enough, Mac had only glanced briefly at them.

"Ma'am you noticed the navy blue and white striped ribbon on her rack?"

Mac nodded, "The Admiral has one. So?"

"There's a high standard, a code of conduct that Navy Cross winners have to adhere to. Mac, that award is second only to the Medal of Honor." Harm informed her trying to bring home the import of the amount of shit that was about to cascade over her head. "Ma'am, you impugned the honor of a Navy Cross winner. Do you seriously know just how much trouble that will get you into?"

Mac mumbled something that Harm couldn't hear.

"Mac, seriously, the Admiral hears about this, he's going to have your head on a platter." He didn't choose to tell her that CDR Benton was seriously thinking about going over his head using her connections in the Pentagon and having her assigned as a Marine Judge Advocate at MCAS Twenty-Nine Palms. "Blue button recipients are untouchable when it comes to things like this."

"If he'd been the one to do it, would you be telling me this?" Mac raised an question that made Harm think for a long moment.

"You saw what happened with Commander Hochhausen. I may not like what I did, but it had to be done ".

But this is different" Mac objected. "Can you pull the trigger on a man you consider your brother from a different mother."

Harm wondered if he could. Was his oath as an officer worth the cost of his friendship? A man who had trained him on the F-14 Tomcat, who shielded him during Desert Storm and was someone he turned to when he needed advice.

The likelihood of stepping wrong was negligible for Animal, Harm thought. But it was a minute percentage and Harm knew to never say never.

Mac gave voice to suspicions. "You know the VF-41 CO and XO were standing pretty close. You sure there isn't something going on between the two of them?"

"No, Commander Nakamura wouldn't. There's too much at stake if he does." Harm shook his head. The simple fact was he was also getting some interesting vibes from Commanders Benton and Nakamura but he wrote it off as the two worked together closely to run an efficient squadron. That's what it was….

Wasn't it?

Ab least that's what they hoped. You couldn't prosecute for thoughts; only actions. Harm wanted to think that his mentor wasn't doing the horizontal tango with his exec. The act itself would bring about ramifications that would result in an court-martial of the two involved. But it would also send waves down the award community as both Animal and Kimber held some very high awards for valor. Animal's being both the Medal of Honor and Navy Cross and Kimber holding the Navy Cross.

Hill 175 was talked about in hushed tones of awe while the Navy Crosses were earned over the skies of Bosnia when the Serbs sent up MiGs and Sukhois to outnumber a TR air cover of a Bosnian refugee caravan. Again it appeared as fate had intervened as CO and XO were in the air together. The CO was on patrol and XO was ready five when the number two bird went belly-up on the cat, XO was given the green light to launch. Animal and Kimber dove headlong into a blitz of Strelas strafing the Serbian shooters and protecting the convoy. The Serbs in their zeal to down the two American F-14s, actually shot down three of their own MiGs in a frenzied attempt to get at the aircraft protecting the Bosnian refugees.

Harm thought to himself, Maybe Animal's and Kimber's Navy Crosses exploit was the action that Buxton was trying to emulate. Well he sure did a piss poor job of it. When you can't ID the target, you don't shoot and Buxton's miscalculation caused an international incident with the Russians.

The man Harm knew as his mentor was as strait-laced as they came; by the book-following, regs-spouting but you listened when he talked because when you saw his "been there; done that" it was quite self-evident that he knew what he was talking about and that knowledge came from a world of experience.

The ride back to Falls Church was quiet as both Of them pondered what was going on insofar as those telltale signs they'd observed. And body language tended to give things away in terms of not only infidelity, but whether someone was trying to cover up a problem.

1735 hrs , Offices of the VF-41 Black Aces, NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA,

"Think we should knock off for today?" Jugs asked.

"Naw, have a few more files to deal with. Promotion orders need to be in next month. Have to send those in or the five-sided shit-house will send us a whiny why are you holding up advancement in the ranks letter to rap my knuckles and tell me of my shameful lack of adherence to promotion standards expected by the grand pooh-bahs in the Halls of Power."

Kimber chuckled wryly, "And you mean I get to do this after you get called to an exalted staff position in those same Halls of Power of the Five Sided Shit-House on the Potomac; in hopes of gaining stars?" She shook her head, "Ever wonder if it's all worthwhile?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean is it worth all the headaches just to get your twenty in?"

Animal looked at Kimber for a long moment drawing out his thoughts before speaking. " There are days, Jugs, but…the Navy is my life. I don't know what I'd do outside." He paused as if in thought then asked a rhetorical question not expecting an answer. "What am I really able to do outside the Navy?" He looked out the window, as a Hornet taxied by in the distance; his office having a clear view of the flight-line. "The Navy trained me to be an aerial weapon, to kill other people in planes. What sort of related skills does that transfer to, on the outside?" He scoffed for a moment, "I'm sure the interviewer will not take kindly to: I can get in a plane and kill other people as an answer to: What skills can you bring to the table for our company?"

"No, I guess not" Kimber laughed. Animal's dry sarcasm and his wit were two of the things that attracted her to her commanding officer. "How many years do you need for your twenty?"

"My date pf commissioning was oh-six-twenty-six nineteen eighty."

"So…. Roughly another year."

"Yup, so by the time I get finished this command tour, I'll have twenty-one years in." Animal answered as he finally closed the last file on his desk and slipped it in the out tray on his desk for CMC Trebalos to pick up in the morning. "I may do my full forty but it all depends if I feel like actually going out and looking for a job on the outside." If it came to that, he'd probably work as a civilian contractor to the military for one of the big names like Lockheed or Boeing. He'd heard they made really good money and a position like that would set him up with a six figure income. But the feel of the control stick at his fingertips was a lure that fueled a desire to stay in, but rationally, he knew his flying days were numbered; maybe another three years after his command stint with the potential after his shore tour to go to O-6. "All depends…" he trailed off.

Kimber nodded, but the words that Jerica used still reverberated through her mind: Have you told him how you feel yet? But she knew that would be sticking a stake in her own career. The life of a career Navy woman was a lonely one; finding someone who shared the same interests; that understood the thrill of being at the controls of a jet fighter that was able to go two point four times the speed of sound, to be able to mix it up in the air one-on-one - that kind of mate could only be found in the military. Where else could you find someone like that who wasn't a naval aviator in fast jets who flew line aviation and had experience operating off the deck of a flat-top.

Damn Jerica! Now the thought of her commanding officer ran laps through her thoughts. Kimber looked over at her commanding officer and admired him surreptitiously making sure he didn't catch her gazing at him in admiration and undisguised desire. After all, she tried to emulate him in his actions, strove to be like him in her own career. And her gaze wandered down to his rack, the five white stars arranged in an M shape placed in a field of sky-blue. Everyone in the military knew what that ribbon was.

Kimber often wondered if Animal would thrive outside the confines of the US Navy's regimented lifestyle. Their life was a series of orders punctuated by six to seven month long cruises to the Mediterranean Sea where they would conduct air superiority missions or combat missions against targets in Serbia and Bosnia-Herzegovina.

It seemed to her that her commanding officer looked more alive when he was going up the ladder into his F-14A, than he ever did going through the minutiae of squadron command. He was a man who lived for flying. Of communing with the birds and the clouds as he made his way at altitude at a velocity of six hundred twenty-five knots airspeed.

On the rare times that Jugs flew as his wingman, she always admired the prowess with which her CO flew. In the groove there was imperceptible wing-rock; his adjustments so fine and coordinated as though he was locked into glide-path by an invisible tether guided to a green three-wire. He flew with economy of motion and he was absolutely a killer in the air, adept at aerial combat having downed three enemy aircraft. He was unrivaled by those he flew with setting a benchmark for others to achieve. He flew as though the F-14 was an extension of his body and that was what Kimber loved about her commanding officer; that he was what aviators called a natural pilot. New techniques and flying skills came easily to him. But he was never cocky about it. In fact he'd always intone an old saw: There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots because the law of averages would eventually catch up and knock them from the sky.

A marked contrast from Commander Gary Hochhausen; who was as arrogant as they came. She'd heard about Hawk losing his wings. He'd exhibited a callous disregard and showed not a single bit of remorse for the lives of the mother and child he took when his Tomcat slammed into the Nevada desert right into the vehicle the woman was driving.

By this time Animal had finished his work and looked up to see Kimber still there leaning against the door, watching him, a small smile playing across her lips.

"Jugs…"

Kimber seemed to be lost in her thoughts.

"Jugs?"

Still no answer.

"Commander Benton!" Animal raised his voice a little.

"Oh geez!" Kimber startled, "I'm sorry, sir. I must have gotten lost in my thoughts for a while."

"It's late, Kimber, you should have headed home by now." He gently admonished her. "Do you need me to walk you to your car?"

She looked at him with another one of those smiles she'd had on her face leaning against the door, "I'd appreciate that, sir."

"You going to be alright to drive?" A gentle tease.

"I should…" she left off letting her statement hang in the air unfinished so the listener could send it any direction he chose.

He smiled and Kimber smiled back; at least he hadn't said the customary red light.

But that was as far as the UCMJ allowed and while they were in uniform that was as far as Kimber was willing to take it. It was essentially a brief walk out to her SUV and as they came to a halt, Kimber turned to her CO and saluted him, as per formal protocol, "Goodnight, sir, I'll see you tomorrow." Even though he was of equal rank to her, she was still the exec and he was the commanding officer.

"0600 sharp." Animal grinned at her, returning her salute. "Goodnight, XO".

"Goodnight, sir" and with a mutual unsaid signal, broke off their salutes and turned towards their cars. The XO's and CO's vehicle spaces were marked side by side.

It wasn't much of a drive either both were housed in the base BOQ to save money, but they had to drive separate vehicles to keep up appearances. It would not look good to the CAG of CVW-12 to see one of his squadron's XOs getting a ride with the CO to work or vice-versa.

There was the perception of propriety that the military upheld and as such, one did not do anything that could purportedly bring disrepute to the United States Naval Service.