USS Ronald Reagan, operating in the Pacific Ocean in route to the South China Sea.

***

The flight deck thrummed with energy, the roar of jet engines mingling with the sharp tang of aviation fuel in the salty air. Crew members in brightly colored vests darted between aircraft, their movements honed by repetition and necessity. Beneath their feet, the deck vibrated with the constant hum of machinery, a reminder of the immense power at work. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows that flickered across the deck as if the routine of the day held its breath, waiting for the unexpected.

As John Patrick Delaney stood near the bottom of Catapult 2, surveying the bustling activity of the flight deck, a sudden gust of wind kicked up, stronger than the meteorologists had predicted. The deck crew braced themselves against the force, but it caught one of the junior sailors off guard. He stumbled, his hands flailing as he staggered dangerously close to the spinning eight-bladed propeller of the Hawkeye’s starboard engine.

John’s instincts kicked in. “Watch your step!” he shouted, sprinting across the deck with a speed that belied his years of service. His voice barely cut through the roar of the Hawkeye’s engines, but it was enough to snap the sailor back to attention. The young man scrambled to regain his footing, but the wind and the slipstream from the spinning propeller fought him, dragging him dangerously close to the deadly blades.

John reached him just in time. With a firm grip, he hauled the sailor back, away from the propeller, and pulled him to safety. The rest of the deck crew acted swiftly, securing the area as the wind and turbulence from the propeller died down. The sailor, wide-eyed and breathing hard, looked up at John with a mix of fear and gratitude.

“You good, sailor?” John asked, giving the sailor a quick once-over for any signs of injury. “Y-yes, Chief,” the sailor stammered, still shaken. “I didn’t see it coming.”

“None of us did,” John replied, his voice firm but calm. “But you’ve got to stay sharp out here. One slip-up, and it’s all over.”

John patted the sailor on the back, offering a quick, reassuring nod. As he glanced up, Lieutenant Commander Cameron “Gazer” Mitchell caught his eye. Gazer stood nearby, his signature duck-themed Hawaiian shirt fluttering over his flight suit. The shirt was a running joke among the squadron and even the ship, a charm of light-hearted defiance. Today, it stood out against the seriousness of the flight deck, but Gazer’s grin remained steady. “Hey, Chief!” Gazer called out, his voice carrying easily over the noise. “You ready to let the bird fly?”

John shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Everything’s set. But one day, that shirt’s going to get you in trouble.”

Gazer laughed, unperturbed. “Hasn’t happened yet. You should try it sometime, Chief. Might bring you some luck.”

Gazer laughed, then paused, glancing out over the horizon. “You know, after this deployment, I’m thinking of finally taking that trip to New York. Been putting it off for years.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been talking about that forever, Gazer. You better make it happen this time.”

Gazer grinned. “Yeah, this time I will. Gotta see those sunsets before it’s too late.”

John rolled his eyes. “Not a chance. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing. Someone’s gotta keep this ship looking respectable.”

Gazer grinned even wider, clearly enjoying the banter. “Respectable’s overrated, Chief. You never know—it might just grow on you.” Gazer’s grin faded for a second, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. “Feels like we’ve been doing this forever, doesn’t it? Sometimes I wonder how much longer we can keep going.”

John nodded, sensing the weight behind Gazer’s words but brushing it off. “Yeah, but we’re still here. Still got plenty more to do.”

Gazer shook off the moment of unease, his grin returning. “Yeah, plenty more.”

“Not in this lifetime,” John shot back, though his smile lingered as he watched Gazer make his rounds.

“Everything’s set,” John replied, nodding toward the Hawkeye. “She’s ready to go. You’re not going to wear that ridiculous shirt while you’re flying, are you?”

Gazer laughed, shaking his head. “Not this time, Chief. It’ll come off before we strap in.  Gotta keep things professional. But don’t worry, I’ll break it out for movie night.”

John rolled his eyes but smiled. “One of these days, that shirt’s going to get you in trouble.”

Gazer shrugged, still smiling. “It hasn’t yet. Besides, it’s good luck. You should try it sometime.

Before John could respond, the ship’s 1MC crackled to life, the voice of the Officer of the Deck cutting through the noise with urgency. “Man overboard, man overboard, port side! All hands to muster! Report to your mustering station. Traffic to mustering stations is up and forward, starboard; down and aft, port.”

The announcement set the deck into immediate motion, with crew members swiftly moving to their assigned stations. John and Gazer exchanged a quick look—man overboard drills were a standard part of life aboard the carrier, but they demanded everyone’s full attention.

“Looks like we’re in for a bit of fun,” Gazer said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “You better get to your station, Chief.”

John nodded, already moving toward the catwalks. “And you better get in the air, Commander. Don’t want to leave your crew waiting.”

Gazer flashed him a quick grin before heading toward the Hawkeye. “I’ll muster us over the radio. Stay sharp, Chief.”

John gave a final nod before disappearing into the flow of the crew, the ship already buzzing with the organized chaos of a drill.

As John stepped down into the catwalks, he passed through the passageway outside of Ready Room 2 where he spotted Danielle “Spooky” Lawson. She was leaning against the bulkhead, her arms crossed as she watched the flurry of activity in the corridor. Spooky was the ship’s Intelligence Officer, feared for her precision and loved for her quick wit.  She caught sight of John and gave him a knowing look.

“Thinking about the old days, Chief?” she asked, her voice laced with that mix of sarcasm and genuine warmth that was so uniquely hers.

John chuckled softly and stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “You know me too well, Spooky. Hard not to, though. This whole thing—it’s like déjà vu sometimes.”

Seeing her again stirred up memories John hadn’t thought about in years. Suddenly, he was back on that flight deck in VAW-127, the Pacific breeze whipping past them as they talked late into the night…

It had been one of those endless shifts, with everyone exhausted but the work still piling up. John had noticed Spooky on the flight deck , perched precariously on a ladder as she wrestled with a section of the Hawkeye’s HF wire antenna. The long cable stretched from the tail to the fuselage, and Spooky was clearly struggling to replace the broken section. Her brow furrowed in frustration as the ladder wobbled beneath her.. She was new then, still trying to find her footing in the squadron.

“You ever think about going to OCS?” John had asked, leaning against the the aircraft as she paused to catch her breath.

Spooky had looked down at him, surprised. “Me? An officer? You’re kidding, right?”

John shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Not at all. You’ve got the smarts and the drive. Don’t sell yourself short, Lawson. You could do it. And you’d be damn good at it.”

She had laughed then, but it wasn’t long before she started taking his words seriously. A year later, she was off to OCS. And now, here she was, one of the sharpest Intelligence Officers on the Reagan. John couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. He had known from the start that she was destined for more.

The memory faded as John returned to the present, the familiar sounds of the carrier filling his ears. Spooky was still watching him, a knowing smile on her face.

“Yeah,” John said, finally answering her. “We’ve come a long way since those days.”

John chuckled softly and stepped closer, keeping his voice low so as not to disrupt the others moving through the passageway. “You know me too well, Spooky. Hard not to, though.”

She nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that. It feels like we’ve been doing this forever, doesn’t it?”

John leaned against the wall beside her, the weight of his years of service settling in his bones. “We have. You know, I still remember the day you walked into the avionics shop, fresh out of A-school. Didn’t take long for me to realize you were going to go far.”

Spooky smiled, a distant look in her eyes as she recalled those early days. “Yeah, I was just another eager airman, trying to make sense of everything. But you didn’t treat me like a kid. You pushed me to be better, and I never forgot that.”

John nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. “You earned it, Spooks. Always knew you had what it takes. And now look at you— Intelligence Officer on one of the Navy’s finest carriers. I’d say you’ve done all right.”

She laughed softly, the sound echoing faintly in the narrow corridor. “Yeah, well, I had a little help along the way. And I never forgot who told me to go for it when the opportunity came up.”

John looked at her, a curious expression on his face. “In my defense, I didn’t expect you to listen. Most folks wouldn’t take that kind of advice from a me.”

Spooky shrugged, her smile widening. “I wasn’t most folks. You know that. And you were right—I needed to take that leap. OCS was tough, but it was the right move. So, thanks for that.”

There was a pause as they both let the moment settle. It wasn’t often they had a chance to reflect on the past, and even rarer that they acknowledged the bond they had formed over the years. They had been through a lot together—deployments, long nights on the flight deck, and now, deployed along side each other on the USS Reagan.

John broke the silence with a more serious tone. “We’ve come a long way, Spooky. But things are different now. Feels like something’s brewing out there. You feel it too?”

Spooky’s expression grew more guarded, her sharp mind shifting gears as she considered his question. “Yeah, I do. There’s a lot we’re not seeing yet, but I’m keeping a close watch. That’s all we can do for now—stay ready, keep our eyes open.”

John nodded, trusting her instincts. “Just like old times, then.”

“Just like old times,” she agreed, her voice carrying the weight of everything they had been through.

Before they could say more, the passageway began to fill with crew members returning to their stations after the drill. The moment passed, but the understanding between them remained.

John pushed off the wall, giving Spooky a nod. “I’ll see you around, Spooky. Stay sharp out there.”

“You too, Chief,” she replied, her tone lighter but still carrying that edge of seriousness that always lingered beneath the surface.

As John continued on his way, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of reassurance. Whatever lay ahead, he knew he wasn’t alone. Spooky was out there, watching, just like she always had been.

After the drill, life aboard the ship returned to its usual rhythm. The evening meal was served and with a break in the flight schedule, John grabbed a quick bite in the Chiefs Mess, exchanging a few words with some of his squadron mates, before heading to the Carrier Intelligence Center (CVIC) for an Intel briefing. John sat through the briefing with a familiar sense of unease, surrounded by officers he’d rather avoid. He wasn’t exactly an active participant, more there out of necessity—his upcoming flight in the Hawkeye meant he couldn’t skip this one..

The CVIC was a hub of activity, with screens displaying real-time data and intelligence reports. As John entered, he noticed that Gazer was already present, engaged in conversation with Commander Ethan Wallace, the airwing intelligence officer, who was overseeing the briefing. Gazer, as the squadrons operations officer, was expected to be involved in these briefings, his role requiring a comprehensive understanding of the operational environment.

John found a spot towards the back, maintaining a respectful distance from the officers at the front. He wanted to stay informed and ahead of the game so that he could ensure that his avionics division was prepared for any developments that might affect their operations.

Danielle “Spooky” Lawson was at the front, preparing to present the latest intelligence to the assembled officers in conjunction with Commander Wallace. She caught John’s eye briefly as he entered, a subtle exchange that conveyed understanding and mutual respect. Years of friendship and shared service connected them, back from when she was enlisted. Yet even with that history, they were mindful of the lines their ranks drew, especially in front of others. “Good evening, everyone,” Commander Wallace began, bringing the room to order. “Let’s get started.”

Spooky began her briefing, her voice steady and professional. “As you’re all aware, we’ve been operating in the Philippine Sea, with our current heading toward the South China Sea. Recent intelligence has indicated some developments that warrant our attention.”

She zoomed in on a map of the region, highlighting key areas of interest. “We’ve detected increased naval movements from several nations. Our allies—Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines—have maintained routine patrols and exercises, but there have been some unusual maneuvers from others.”

Spooky paused, drawing their attention to a section of the South China Sea. “The Chinese Navy has deployed a carrier group in the region, conducting what appear to be live-fire exercises. While they’ve stayed within their claimed waters, the frequency and scale of their operations have increased. It’s nothing overtly aggressive yet, but the pattern suggests they’re positioning themselves for something beyond routine training.”

She shifted the display to include more details. “We’ve also noticed a buildup of Russian naval assets in the area, not just submarines but surface combatants as well, particularly near Vietnam’s exclusive economic zone. Their presence, alongside Chinese movements, raises concerns about potential coordinated operations.”

Spooky then zoomed in on another portion of the map. “In addition, North Korean naval assets have been detected further north—small surface combatants and diesel-electric submarines conducting patrols. While they typically remain closer to home, their recent activity suggests they could be extending their range, likely in coordination with broader regional exercises.”

Her gaze swept the room, meeting the eyes of the crew. “In short, while no direct threats have been identified, the situation is fluid. We need to stay sharp and be ready for any changes.”

Commander Wallace leaned forward, studying the data. “Exercises, or something else?”

“It’s difficult to say at this point, sir,” Spooky replied, her expression thoughtful. “The movements don’t follow their typical training patterns, but there’s no direct evidence of anything more concerning. We’re keeping a close eye on it, but for now, I recommend maintaining our current status and readiness level.”

Gazer, who was seated closer to the front, spoke up. “What’s the likelihood that they’re just trying to test us?”

“It’s possible,” Spooky conceded. “But it’s also possible they’re just observing our movements. We need to stay vigilant, but not overreact, and stick to the current rules of engagement. Right now, it’s a waiting game.”

The briefing continued with a discussion of various scenarios and contingencies. John remained quietly attentive, absorbing the information. While the overall tone was cautious, there was an underlying tension—an acknowledgment that the situation could escalate quickly.

As the briefing wrapped up, Commander Wallace addressed the group. “Let’s stay sharp, everyone. We’ll continue to monitor the situation and adjust our plans as necessary.”

With the briefing concluded, the officers began to file out, returning to their duties. John lingered for a moment, catching Spooky’s eye as she gathered her notes. John could tell that she knew more, or at least suspected more then she was sharing.

As the evening deepened into night, the temperature on the flight deck dropped, and the darkness brought with it a different kind of intensity. The lights on the deck illuminated the aircraft in a harsh, dim yellow glow, casting long shadows that flickered as the crew moved about their tasks. Night flight operations were always more challenging, requiring even more precision and coordination.

John was back on the deck, overseeing the final preparations for a series of night training sorties. The deck was a controlled chaos of activity, with crew members moving quickly but carefully to ensure everything was in place. The roar of engines, the sharp click of metal on metal as tools were passed, and the crackle of radios created a cacophony that was both familiar and reassuring.

“Chief, we’re good to go,” called out Petty Officer 2nd Class Ryan Donovan, one of the more experienced members of John’s team. Donovan had a reputation for being meticulous, sometimes to the point of being overly cautious, but John appreciated his attention to detail.

John gave him a thumbs-up and a quick nod, acknowledging the readiness of the aircraft. “All right, let’s get this show on the road. Keep it tight out there, Donovan.”

As the first aircraft was brought up to the catapult, John took a moment to scan the horizon. The sea was calm, the stars barely visible through the haze of the ship’s lights. It was one of those nights where the world seemed to shrink down to the size of the deck, the rest of the ocean fading into the darkness.

Nearby, Gazer was making his final checks on avionics systems in the back end of the Hawkeye, his focus entirely on the task at hand. The earlier lightheartedness was gone, replaced by the seriousness that came with preparing for night ops. John poked his head into the back of the plane, the aircraft shaking as jet blast from catapult 3 rushed across the deck as another F-35 launched into the darkness.

“How’s she looking, Cam?” John asked as he plugged his headset into the Hawkeyes Internal Communications System (ICS).

“Everything’s in order,” Gazer replied, his attention still on the display in front of him. “Should be a dull 2^nd flight of the day.  Want me to see how this radar of yours is really working?”

“Absolutely sir, my guys replaced a couple cards and you should be all set. Just be careful out there,” John said, more out of habit than concern. “And try not to do anything stupid.”

Gazer flashed a grin, his earlier demeanor returning for a brief moment. “No promises, Chief. You know how I like to keep things interesting.”

With that, John climbed out of the Hawkeye, closing the main hatch as he left. John stepped back as his plane captains started their show, watching as the aircraft was started, and taxied into position on the catapult. The deck crew signaled their readiness, and with a final salute from the Hawkeyes cockpit, the Shooter on cat 2 gave the go-ahead.

The catapult fired with a thunderous roar, launching the Hawkeye off the deck and into the night sky. John held the boom of his headset microphone close to his mouth as he keyed the radio. “Banger, 604 airborne” John said as he watched as it disappeared into the darkness, the lights of the ship reflected on the water below. For a moment, he simply stood there, listening to the fading sound of the engines, before turning back to the task at hand.