Seahawk Blues

Posted on Mon Jul 25th, 2022 @ 10:04am by Lieutenant Ralph Brennan

Mission: Jumping Right In
Location: C-130 Bound for McMurdo Station Antarctica
Timeline: A Tuesday
4903 words - 9.8 OF Standard Post Measure

ON

|C-130 Bound for McMurdo Station Antarctica
|A Tuesday

From the depths of an uncertain and interrupted slumber, Ralph Brennan was awoken by another jostling of turbulence as the C-130 blasted its way through a pocket of air. The crimson lighting that washed over the fuselage’s interior blinked rapidly as the military maxi-taxi’s pilot chuckled over the aircraft’s intercom.

Ralph rolled his eyes and felt his body preparing to reject a very bland rehydrated chicken curry that had been dumped in his lap and washed down with a weak lemon Gatorade an hour earlier. It churned around in his stomach as he clutched a plastic sick bag like a man possessed as he Tech Sergeant across from him casually unstrapped himself from his seat and stride to the rear of the plane’s cargo area. Ralph reached inside his navy-issued winter coat to grab his phone, punching in his passcode in a search for distraction. He began to breathe through his mouth and scroll through his screen as he tried his level best to avert his eyes from the straining and groaning Airman who relieved himself into a bucket.

Ralph scrolled through his phone, eventually finding his emails and settling on reading one from his father that he’d left unread from a week ago. As always, Ralph was lambasted by his old man for not calling- it was really pissing off mum. On top of that, his sister was irritated that Ralph hadn’t attended her graduation from nursing school. His second cousin had enlisted in the Navy to carry on the family tradition. Oh, and the parental units had finally decided to sell their business and retire.

The plane shook again. The pilot let out another joyful guffaw.

“Asshole,” Ralph muttered.

“I heard that, Brennan!” The plane’s skipper chuckled.

Ralph scrambled like man struggling for breath, “H-how the hell—"

“Your mic is still on, sir,” The plane’s attendant advised him.

“Oh,” Ralph nodded. “So it is.”

The aircraft jumped again. With it, the Airman across the way fell to the ground and the bucket tipped, spilling its contents across the floor. Ralph ogled the grotesque seen. That bucket had far more in it than it had any right to have.

With an attendant scrambling for a mop, and a can of air freshener, Ralph went back to his screen. He began writing a message to his father—one he knew he’d be deleting—but one that he hoped would help him get his head straight.

Dear Dad, sorry for not being in touch. Great to hear about everything back home, pass on my regards to Angelique on her graduation. And Billie going into the Navy? Who’d have thought! It sounds like a lot of good stuff is going on, sorry I’ve missed it. It’s been on hell of a month. Life changing. It all started three weeks ago, a Wednesday…

|Carrier Deck, USS Seahawk
|3 Weeks Prior, a Wednesday

The howl and roar of fighter jet engines pierced the air as Ralph disembarked the helo that he delivered him to the carrier deck of the USS Seahawk. Two officers rushed to the door of the helo as one, a seaman, took his bags and the other, a Captain and the vessel’s XO, returned a salute once Ralph’s boots hit the deck.
“Mister Brennan, the CO has requested to see you immediately. Seaman Franks will have your bag placed in your berthing. Follow me.” The XO didn’t waste any time. She had already snapped around on her heel and dodged a raft activity from the flight deck officers. Ralph did his best to follow the XO, ducking around towing vehicles, jumping over fuels hoses and dodging ordinance trolleys.
A hatch into the ship’s interior left the relentless hustle and bustle of the carrier deck’s behind for the catacomb-like corridors. Ralph was led through the maze of stairs, ladders and gangways until he was standing in the stateroom of the carrier’s commander.

Brennan and the Seahawk’s XO snapped attention.

“At ease,” Captain Matt McIntyre nodded. “Thank you for brining Mister Brennan to me, XO. That’ll be all.”
With that, the XO disappeared, and the CO offered Ralph a seat at the desk. “Have a seat. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Coffee, thanks, sir,” Ralph replied.

“Sure thing,” McIntyre nodded. He went to the refreshment station and fixed the fellow naval officer his drink. As he did, he looked over his shoulder briefly. “Thanks for grabbing the COD out on such short notice. You’re probably wondering why I called you out here.”

“The question had crossed my mind,” Ralph admitted.

Coffee in hand, the captain placed the beverage in front of the junior officer and had a seat opposite him. “I know that your work over on the USS Sterret assessing their small arms rapid fire recertification course is important, but I have something I’d like you to check into. Something… urgent.”

This caught Ralph’s attention. “Urgent?”

“Brennan, I believe I’ve got an officer trading this ship’s resources for profit,” McIntyre said. “Our quartermasters are reporting stock losses they just can’t account for. I’ve seen the numbers, they don’t seem to add up.”

“I see.” Ralph nodded slowly. He was willing to hear the senior officer out but couldn’t resist the urge to speak his mind. “Captain, look, this is a matter that could come under the purview of the Inspector General, but surely this is a matter of internal review, or something you could take to the JAG, or the NCIS.”

“I’m aware, Brennan-- Ralph,” McIntyre sighed. “Listen, I don’t want to throw a good sailor under the bus if I don’t have to.”

“A lack of integrity is by no means a small issue--” Ralph stopped himself. The other man didn’t need the lecture, “Captain, there are other officers from the Inspector General who aren’t on assignment. Hell, there’s an office full of people in San Diego, mere miles away once you reach shore this afternoon. Why me?”

“I just need someone I can trust, Ralph. And I know I can trust you. I knew your father, you know, way back.”

“Sailed with him back in the day, sir?”

“No, he used to fix my Buick. Nice guy, I figured you would be too. Is he still running his garage?”

“Actually, he’s selling up.” Ralph smiled. He couldn’t be happier about that; the business had been a weight on his family in recent years. Brennan took a sip of what was a very average cup of coffee and pivoted back to the business at hand. “I’ll investigate this for you, Captain. However, if we do find a case of wrongdoing, I expect to negotiate a mutually beneficial outcome to this situation. It may involve referral to the JAG for the sailor responsible.”

“I understand,” McIntyre nodded. “Well, mi casa su casa. Good hunting.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Ralph stood and was dismissed by the ship’s CO. He was then let loose upon the vessel, where he began to upturn stones, trying not to upset the applecart of the Seahawk while gather as much information as he could. He poured over stock lists, clandestinely conducted calculated surveillance and gently probed whole departments in his search for the truth. All of this had led him to one conclusion, and it wasn’t terribly exciting, but was perhaps a relief.

|CIC, USS Seahawk
|3 Days Later

Stepping into the combat information centre of the Seahawk, Ralph spied the many goings-on splashed across the computer screens, each displaying information on weapons readiness and radar contacts. Sensor screens blipped and streamed incomprehensible reems of data at their operators as others worked with the airboss and CAG to situate the ship’s birds where they needed to be for a training exercise. Nearby, two sailors discussed a proposed test of a new directed energy weapon that had been fitted aboard.

Meanwhile, Brennan was shoved aside as a CIC officer went to a transparent display board to change the data displayed to fit the vessel’s current training situation. Amongst it all, Captain McIntyre stood pensive, observing all as if surveying his domain. The superior officer wouldn’t have noticed Ralph standing alongside him if it wasn’t for the crisp snap of his boot on the deck as he stood at attention, prepared with report underarm.

“Captain, sir,” Ralph nodded.

“At ease, Mister Brennan.” A sly smile came over the Captain’s face, “Or should I call you Fonz?”

“Sir?”

“Scuttlebutt says they call you Fonz. Why the hell is that?”

“Oh, uh, my parents decided to call me Ralphonze.”

The Captain returned a look as if the fellow officer had just reported a homicide. “I thought highly of your father, until—”

“Until now, yessir, I’m quite used to that.” Ralph- or ‘Fonz’ as he’d been outed as- put the hardcopy of his investigative report under the Captain’s nose. He was eager to change the subject. “My investigation is complete. My findings are outlined here.”

The Captain took the report and studied it carefully for about a minute, skimming over some information, labouring over other parts. Eventually, he cast an eye upwards to Brennan. “You’re sure?”

“Certain.”

“Okay then,” McIntyre folded the paper report in half and tucked it under his arm. “Have you confronted them about this?”

“Not yet, sir. I wanted to run the report by you first.”

“A wise precaution. Listen, approach this how you feel it best. However, I would appreciate it if you approached the officer privately regarding this matter to avoid undue embarrassment.”

“Of course, Captain. If there’s nothing else.”

“Dismissed.” With that, the Captain returned his eyes to the goings-on of the CIC, his hands behind his back like he was posting for a sculpture.

As Ralph went to leave, a radar operator looked to scramble to comprehend what they were seeing on their screen. The Inspector General’s officer thought it best to get the hell out of dodge but not earshot, as a crisis seemed to quickly unfold.

“Captain, Lieutenant,” The sailor monitoring the high-altitude radar called, bringing her CIC supervisor and the vessel’s CO to her station. “Sirs, I’ve got a contact coming in hot. Unknown origin. No tags or information available.”

Assuming this was part of some training exercise that hastily prepared the vessel’s company for another off-world attack or retro Eastern-bloc stoush, Ralph took his leave and headed ashore. The quartermaster at the docking facility in San Diego where the Seahawk was docked had allowed Ralph use of a vehicle to carry out his duties—truth be told now was the first time he’d got into the driver’s seat of the rumbly old whale of a Crown Vic.

|Navy Residential Zone, San Diego, California
|Subsequently

Ralph took the vehicle out to the nearby suburb, a part of town that had been bought up and dominated by Navy personnel. In these sleepy residential streets, kids played football, people gardened, and mums and dads came home from deployment to the cheerful, though somewhat restrained, reactions of family and friends.
It was all as thought this entire place contained a secret. White houses and picket fences seemed to do it.
The old Crown Vic groaned to a halt as Ralph ground the tyres of the scrap-ready government vehicle up the gutter. He’d obviously been shipboard for long enough that driving was starting to become a lost art. He winced as he turned the engine off and stepped into the idyllic neighbourhood, walking up a path to a front door that was lined with roses. A rap of the knuckles on the door later and he was standing before the Seahawk’s XO.

She looked Ralph up and down. “Mister Brennan.”

“Captain Walters, I’ve come to discuss some discrepancies in the Seahawk’s supply log. Would you mind if I stepped inside?”

The woman allowed him in. Inside, along with the photos of her family- nuclear as all get-out- there were a range of family artefacts, including a set of instruments from an old-World War 2 plane that an inspirational ancestor obviously flew. The house was as much a shrine to aviation as it was a family home.

The Captain led Ralph into the kitchen of her house. She spun on her heal with her usual military efficiency. Shoulders back, chin up, she laid it down on the junior officer. “I’ve read up on you, Mister Brennan. Let’s cut to the chase. You’re here to discuss the stock-loss of the Seahawk. No doubt the skipper pulled you from your assignment for the purpose of you investigating these losses. And no doubt you’re here to lay out the evidence you’ve got against me.”

“Got it in one.” Brennan replied apprehensively. He shuffled uncomfortably for a moment, waiting for a knife to the throat. “Captain, the skipper isn’t interested in pressing charges, it just seems as though he wants to know what’s going on. Perhaps he already knows what I’ve discovered. Perhaps not. Either way, it needs to stop.”

“You got a family, Mister Brennan?” She paused as she filled a glass of water. “Parents?”

“Yeah.”

“You’d do anything for them?”

“Of course.”

“My mother, she was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force. She was killed thirteen years ago in the off-worlder attack.” Walters took a sip of her water. Even she knew this speech was a little rehearsed. “You ever lost a parent?”

“No.”

“My father, he couldn’t cope. Couldn’t make ends meet after he was discharged. He’s an old navy man, spent his career as a chief making money on the side by selling off odds and ends; a VCR here, an old TV there.” Walters sighed, “I guess I continued the family business. Hardly a compelling criminal enterprise.”

“Hardly.” Ralph smiled. “Regardless, Captain, this is still Navy property being taken here.”

“Flipping a surplus laptop or an old phone is hardly a federal crime.”

“Nor is it conduct becoming an officer,” Ralph reminded her, “Or a retired Chief.”

“True enough. It’s just that he wasn’t… he wasn’t getting a pension after he was discharged; he had a hard time dealing with civilian life. He served for nineteen years and three months. Couldn’t qualify for anything that would help him. I was just trying to help him.”

“Don’t think I don’t understand, Captain.” Brennan replied. “Listen, I think the Captain might want to have a word. Aside from this you’re squeaky clean. If all this stops, we can dodge the JAG, and anyone else who would put a stain on an otherwise good record of a fine officer. Perhaps, even, we could approach the VA about getting some additional support for your dad.”

Walters nodded.

“If there’s nothing else, ma’am, I’ll leave you to arrange a meeting with the skipper.”

“Thanks.”

Ralph was left to show himself back out into the leafy green suburbs. A tour around the streets reminded him of the bases across the world where he’d grown up, around each corner he expected to see himself and his mates running around, kicking a soccer ball or setting off a firecracker to irritate the base CO. Then, as he turned a corner he was forced to slam on the breaks as red and blue lights blinded him. He was back in Captain Walters street. Out the front of her place were military police. Swarming the residence like a pack of bees.

An MP, cradling an M16 rushed to the door of Ralph’s car as the Inspector General’s officer began to survey the area. The more he spied the more he worried. The place was awash with military first responders. Amongst it, it seemed that some househusbands had abandoned their barbecues to head out street-side with their 12-gauges.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You wanna tell me what’s going on here, Corporal?”

“We got ourselves a siege. Got a navy Captain inside with her daughter. She reported an intruder about fifteen minutes ago after hitting her silent panic alarm.”

“Mind if I get out instead?” Ralph flashed his badge. “Office of the Inspector General. I was just with the captain discussing an important matter.”

“I’m not going to stop you, sir.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, Corporal,” Ralph said, hopping out of the car. “Who’s in charge here.”

“We’re not sure, sir.”

“Not sure?”

“The Sherriff insisted on taking over,” The Corporal reported. “We’ve, uh, been having some issues with jurisdiction lately.”

“No shit.” Brennan laughed. The naval officer began to wade into the scene.

“Wait,” The Corporal called. “You got something to defend yourself?”

Brennan sighed. He grabbed his sidearm from his briefcase in the back. He didn’t anticipate needing it, but he did wonder what strife Walters may have come across after he little resale escapade. Piece on his belt, he passed folks of all organisational stripes waiting around until he found the MP who looked like he was in command. Through the front window the Captain stood quite defensively as a shadowy figure stumbled around inside the house.

“Sergeant.” Brennan called.

“You are?”

“Ralph Brennan, I’m with the—”

“Inspector General. Yeah. You just got mentioned.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Captain inside, she just mentioned she was at your house when she was talking to dispatch on the phone. Personally, I’d assumed you’d taken her hostage.”

“You got an update on the situation?”

“One assailant. Disoriented. Probably on drugs.”

“Armed?”

“We’re unsure,” The Sergeant reported. He gestured to a marksman he had positioned on the front yard of a house across the street. The marine clutched his SR-25 rifle, fitted out with thermal optic, like it was his meal ticket to Shangri-La. “Overwatch hasn’t reported any hostile action.”

“Mind if I go in?” Ralph asked.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’ve got the background on the Captain,” Ralph told the Sergeant.

“And I’ve got a responsibility to protect everyone on this scene, including you.”

“I’ve got a suggestion.”

The Sergeant rolled his eyes, “Here we go.”

“I’ll take command of the crime scene,” Ralph suggested. “Let me go in there and see what’s going on. You can retain overall control, if you want to make the call to take that dude out, go ahead.”

“I can’t find a reason to say no, Brennan, but if you screw this up, God help me.”

“Good.” Ralph nodded. “I’ll see you on the flipside.”

With that, Brennan went up that familiar path and found himself inside Captain Walters’ living room within moments. When Ralph stepped into the room, the Seahawk’s XO was in the corner with her terrified daughter who sobbed quietly. Across the way, an olive-skinned man, dressed in terracotta-coloured rags, sat on Walters’ cough inspecting a guitar that the senior navy officer had used to fend off the intruder. As Ralph took all this in, he could feel the marksman’s rifle crosshairs on his back.

The intruder’s eyes met Ralphs as the navy officer entered the room. The intruder shuffled uncomfortably back in his seat with the military officer making a slow advance. He looked to Walters and her daughter, then back to the intruder. He stepped forward again.

The intruder shot up like a startled cat.

“Woah, dude, woah,” Ralph cooed as he raised his hands, showing that they were empty. He lowered his tone, trying to remember all those negotiation tactics he’d been taught at some diplomatic masterclass years ago. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanna talk.”

“D-don’t c-come any… closer!” The intruder mumbled.

Walters’ daughter continued to sob in the corner. The cries seemed to distress the home intruder as the child’s mother gave the man daggers.

“It’s okay. Hey, why don’t we start with names. I’m Ralph. You can call me that. What about you?”

There was a moment of hesitation, this man, whoever he was, was far from home. “L-l… Lu’car.”

“Lu’car. That’s an interesting name,” Ralph offered a reassuring smile. “Where’s it from?”

“Dakara.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it,” Ralph smiled. “Sounds like an interesting place.”

Lu’car sighed. “Not a pleasant place.”

“Doesn’t sound like it, Lu’car,” Ralph acknowledged. “I want to talk about that. But right now, Lu’car, how would you feel about Captain Walters and her daughter heading outside so we can talk?”

Lu’car looked between his ‘hostages’ and the guitar in his hands, which seemed like a foreign item to the man. He thought on this for a moment then offered Ralph a reluctant nod.

“Okay, Lu’car, I’m just going to have them come to me,” Ralph said, his voice cautious and calm as he gestured to Walters and her daughter. “Nice and slow, guys, easy.”

Lu’car watched them intently for a moment before pushing the guitar away from himself as if to offered it back.
He looked to the mother and daughter, “Would… would you like this?”

“How about you keep it for now, Lu’car,” Walters nodded as she crossed the room with her little girl. She shuffled past Ralph and headed outside, where a team of MPs rushed to the two with blankets and escorted them to an ambulance that had just arrived.

“So, Lu’car,” Brennan stepped forward slowly. He watched as the home intruder uneasily clutched the instrument tightly, though he couldn’t ignore the oddly neat and symmetrical wound on the man’s belly that was momentarily revealed to him. There was obviously a grizzly story behind that. “How did we end up here?”

“I ran…”

“From?”

“My master.”

“Your… your master?” Ralph stopped short of making some sort of joke about a cult.

“Yes. A slave trader. His name is Chek’nac, a ruthless and violent brute. He was once the chief henchman for a system lord.”

“Is this Chek’nac some sort of human trafficker?” Ralph asked. The question elicited a strange look from the slave. Ralph reoriented, “How did you escape, Lu’car?”

“I was being transported to a new work location, in another system, to serve a new system master. I was aboard a Tel’tak—”

“A Tel’tak?”

“A Tel’tak, a… transport vessel. It experienced engine troubles, so the Goa’uld guards stopped to refuel and seek repairs. When they left to find some comfort women, I overpowered the technicians working on the craft and escaped. The last thing I remember before the ship crashing and stumbling to this… domicile… was setting the hyperdrive in a random direction.”

Ralph took all this information in. A lot of it had seemed like total gibberish. This man sounded deluded, talking the stuff of science fiction. He knew there was a kernel of truth to it all, but felt that the poor man must’ve been delirious. A quick glimpse outside revealed the number of cars and people had escalated dramatically. “Lu’car, it sounds like you have a clear-cut case for seeking refuge under the UEO’s displaced person’s act. Perhaps we can get you to the base hospital, have you patched up, then we can see about getting you housed and safe. But to do that, I want to get you outside so we can have you assessed by a paramedic. You don’t need to worry; they only want to help you.”

“Very well.” Lu’car nodded as she stood. The man limped towards Ralph, who caught him and assisted him to the door. The pair then walked out into the front yard with barrels of guns pointed at them as they made their way out onto the street.

“Stand down!” Ralph called. “Let’s get this guy a corpsman!”

The many MPs, first responders and armed residents rumbled and discussed the situation, but there called to stand down after the Sergeant decided it was safe to do so. As the MPs swarmed the pair, a corpsman approached cautiously, though everyone seemed to scatter when a black van appeared.

“Stand back, everyone, stand back.” A man in a fully black military uniform called as the crowd seemed to scatter like a cat was put amongst pigeons. A team with P90 sub-machine guns and protective helmets rolled out behind the imposing man who quickly introduced himself as his men grabbed Lu’car. A black-clad soldier shoved Ralph back as the man in charge, a Colonel by the name of Kawalsky, gestured for the refugee to be placed in the van.

“What the hell is going on here?” Ralph demanded.

Hands on hips, Kawalsky looked down his nose at the junior officer, “This man is in the custody of the UEO security forces, Mister Brennan. We’ll take it from here. Catch you around.”

Before Ralph could as much as protest, Lu’car was bailed into the van and the Colonel and his men followed. The van taking off up the street as the cacophony not seen or imagined on this street, began to subside. MPs began to pack up their equipment and the emergency lights and sirens were turned off. This active scene was now less-so.

|Office of the Inspector General, Administrative Building, Washington DC
|5 Days Later

After the siege and his work on the Seahawk, Ralph returned to the Sterret to complete his check of the rapid-fire qualification. All seemed to go well, all was back to normal, though Ralph’s mind frequently wondered back to Lu’car. He worried for the man, who was clearly an illegal alien, and wondered what the hell the UEO planned to do with him. The question went unanswered and unaccounted for until Ralph found himself back at his home base in DC. He’d been called to a meeting with his CO, Captain Bailey, the moment his transport landed at Pax River.
Stepping into the boss’ office, he was taken aback when his commander was flanked by imposing officials. Kawalsky stood in his black uniform with a woman in a pin-stripe suit.

The group dispensed the regular pleasantries and then took a seat around the Captain’s desk.

“Mister Brennan, it seems like you’ve hit a few home runs lately,” Captain Bailey said, looking over a litany of reports that had been passed his way over the previous twenty-four hours. “I can’t say I’m overly impressed to see a member of this office stepping outside their usual bounds, but it looks like you’ve caught someone’s attention. This is Sarah Clancy of the UEO, and I believe you’ve already met Colonel Kawalsky.”

“Yessir.” Ralph nodded. “Ms Clancy. Colonel, it’s good to see you again.”

“I guess I can say the same, Mister Brennan. You kept us out of trouble there last week,” Kawalsky said. “In fact, that’s why Ms Clancy and I are here. The man you assisted in recovering, Lu’car, was an off-worlder.”

“From the same group linked to the attack in 2008?” Brennan asked.

“Somewhat,” Clancy answered. “Same race, different group. It’s complicated.”

“Lu’car is a Jaffa. He travelled here in an alien space vessel, which he crashed just off the coast of San Diego. From there, he wandered the city streets until he came across Captain Walters’ residence. Seems the stars aligned for you to come across him.”

“Seems that way, sir,” Brennan nodded. The news of off-worlders was hardly a surprise, but what Lu’car had said seemed to make a lot more sense when it was put in the context of being from outer space.

“At this point in time, Lu’car’s vessel is being recovered from the ocean floor by a naval taskforce to be moved to Area 51 for inspection,” Clancy reported. “While we’re prepared to inspect the craft, dealing with the off-worlder has proven more difficult. The UEO made a motion to have him moved to an isolated location for quarantine purposes. But he’s proven hesitant to engage with us.”

The comment hung in the air for a moment as Kawalsky flashed Brennan a grin, “It seems that he wants to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“Correct,” Clancy nodded. “We’ve suggested to Captain Bailey that you be seconded to the UEO’s command to assist us with our inquiries into Lu’car’s presence on Earth. We may also have some other… duties we need to you perform in the meanwhile.”

The Captain, who’d remained silent for most of the discussion watched as Ralph considered this proposition. “Ralph, you did have your sights set on space service. Maybe this is the foot in the door you need?”

Ralph simply nodded at the idea as he chewed it over in his head like a steak as tough as boot leather.

Kowalsky who flashed another grin. He could sense the Lieutenant was about to break. “Tell me, Brennan, what do you know about McMurdo Station?”

OFF