Chapter 2

Chapter Two

" W hat are you chuckling about over there, Jacobs?"

Corey shook his head and laid down his cell on the table in the galley of the aircraft carrier that had been his home-away-from-home for almost five months. "Nothing. Just my neighbor from where I grew up?—"

"In Bumfuck, New York," Jones supplied for clarification.

"We can't all be from Chicago, Jonesy, but yes, in upstate New York." Corey rolled his eyes. "Anyway, my old neighbor retired and he and his wife bought this retro RV. From their Instagram it looks like they're having a ball fixing it up."

Jones's eyes widened. "That's what you're using what little WiFi we have for? To check out your old-as-fuck Boomer neighbors' Insta?"

Corey snorted. "Jonesy, we're on the mess deck. What would you rather have me do with the WiFi? Watch porn?"

"I check in with my girl," Jones answered.

Hawkeye let out a guffaw. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"Fuck you." Jones accompanied that with a hearty shove of his shoulder against Hawkeye seated on the bench next to him.

"Right backatcha." The recipient of the assault didn't seem phased as he grinned.

"Hey, how about we all just be grateful that our captain is letting us have WiFi access at all? I heard the poor bastards on the destroyers don't have internet. The vessel doesn't have the bandwidth or some shit like that," Rabbit pointed out.

"Or maybe it's just ours is the superior vessel," Jones countered.

"Of course it is. Give me an aircraft carrier over a destroyer any day. Those things are cramped as fuck." Hawkeye shook his head.

"But smaller vessel, smaller crew. It's more like a family." Rabbit's sunshiny comment earned him a raised brow from Corey, who had to agree with Hawkeye about his preference for an aircraft carrier over a destroyer.

"I've already got too big of a family. Don't need any more," someone down the table joked amid chuckles of agreement.

"But a destroyer can pull pier side in the smaller ports. We have to anchor way out," Rabbit piped in with that fact, lest they forget.

Hawkeye let out a snort. "Fuck this carrier-versus-destroyer debate. After no days off and no port calls for more than four months, shore side sounds pretty damn good to me. I don't care how we get there."

Jones nodded. "Yeah, I have to agree. I wouldn't even mind a cross-country road trip in Jacobs' neighbors' Boomer RV. Just me and my girl on the open road. Pull over for some lovin' wherever whenever we want. Stop for the night, maybe by the ocean. Fall asleep to the sound of the waves. Wake up to the seagulls and some sweet, sweet morning sex. Have coffee outside sitting in the sand."

Hawkeye shook his head. "You're nuts. Give me a first-class plane ticket and a luxury hotel where I can wake up to room service."

Apparently his mess mates could—and happily would—argue about anything and everything.

Corey listened to the debate going on but didn't weigh in. Let them fight it out. It wasn't like any of them were getting out of there anytime soon. Their next five months were clearly planned out by the US Navy and those plans didn't include any sort of road trip. No RVs. No luxury hotels. No beach vacation, even if there was plenty of water surrounding the US sailors and their British allies who were part of the Carrier Strike Group.

They were needed right where they were. At sea.

Corey, as an aerial vehicle operator, was tasked with locating the Houthis who were targeting commercial ships in the region.

By studying the surveillance images being sent back from the drone he operated, he could achieve his goal of detecting and intercepting whatever the Houthis decided to throw at the vessels before they could do any damage.

Life on board for him as a drone operator consisted of trying to sleep during the day and conversely be sharp and focused while staring at monitors for eight hours while on duty each night. Both tasks were counter to what his body wanted to do.

They'd operated at a constant combat pace for months. All without days off or ports of call. But the attacking Houthis didn't seem to care about the challenges levied on the personnel of the fleet and vessels who were tasked with defending commercial ships using the busy trade route.

Corey had lost track of how many Houthi drones they'd destroyed before they hit the vessels traveling through the Strait of Hormuz chokepoint between the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist to check the time. Habit since he didn't have his cell phone with him except during his off hours when he could log into WiFi to check for news from home.

He had just enough time before he had to report for his shift to stow the cell in his bunk and down an energy drink. He'd finished his meal and he was more than done with the petty bickering between his shipmates so it was definitely time to head out.

Standing, Corey was about to take his leave when the air of the mess deck reverberated with the sound of an alarm.

"Incoming unmanned surface vessel!"

Adrenaline and training kicked in as the message repeated.

They'd prepared for this but that made it no less of a threat to the vessel. USVs could carry larger explosive payloads than an aerial weapon, striking at the waterline with great potential for damage.

And wouldn't you know it, the mess deck was located on the second deck which was, coincidentally, just at the water line.

Fuck.

Boots pounded on metal as alarms continued and the crew responded, racing to battle stations.

But before Corey could reach his assigned position, before he could even brace for the impact, the world around him exploded with a sudden, deafening, violently intense blast that sent his body air born in the tight space.

Then it all went completely dark.