Title: "Celebrity" Author: Hugo "Animal" Chikamori E-mail: hchikamori@yahoo.com Rating: R - foul language Classification: Spoilers: Summary: Harriet convinces Animal to take up a celebrity on a VIP flight. Animal does not like this at all and bitches to everyone in ear-shot, including the Battle Group Commander, his wife, Mac and Harm and gives Harriet an ear- full. In the end, Animal has an outstanding revelation. Disclaimer:Harmon Rabb Jr. Sarah Mackenzie, AJ Chegwidden, Bud Roberts, Harriet Sims, et al characters regularly seen on JAG, are creations of Donald Bellisario and are the property of CBS, Paramount and Bellisarius Productions. Animal, Lia, Metalman et al (other than the above) are the creative property of Hugo and Heather Chikamori. Author's Note: "Celebrity" by Brad Paisley --------------------------------------------------------- USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT THE PERSIAN GULF "Goddamnit!!!" roared Animal as he stomped through the ready room. "I got missions to fly. I don't have time to be escorting some dead-weight around!!!" Metalman and Divebomb promptly excused themselves, the other pilots and RIOs wisely stayed out of Animal's way. There was a bulletin from the Navy's Public Relations office indicating that a Very Important Person was to be arriving in a week and they had requested a VIP flight. Rear Admiral Pointer had specifically asked Animal to provide that flight, since the VIP was to be kept safe and sound. Hopefully the Iraqis had received the bulletin to stay away from the VIP flight or there would be some serious problems. "What the hell do we do if we get jumped by some MiGs??" Animal glared at some newbie that wisely kept his mouth shut. This was a full four-striper captain going on a rampage. "Do you know what V.I.P. stands for????" snarled Animal to the pale newbie. "Yes, sir." He said, relieved that he was being asked a question that he had an answer for. "It means Very Important Person..." he clammed his mouth shut when Animal gave him a real nasty glower. "Hell, FUCK NO! CONEHEAD!!!" Animal roared. "It means Vainly Irresponsible PUTZ!!!!" "Someday I'm gonna be famous Do I have talent well no These days you don't really need it Thanks to reality shows." BATTLE GROUP COMMANDER'S OFFICE "Sir, who came up with the idea of using me to fly this VIP around? Respectfully asking, sir." Animal stood in front of the Battle Group Commander's desk. The Battle Group Commander looked at Animal nodding with a sympathetic look. "The orders came down from the Navy's Public Relations office." He passed a copy of the orders to Animal. Animal nearly turned purple. Down on the bottom of the order was signed "Lieutenant Harriet Sims". Harriet made out the order? He was going to have to talk to her about that one. "Can't wait to date a supermodel Can't wait to sue my dad Can't wait to wreck a Ferrari On my way to Rehab" Metalman barely restrained a grin when he saw Animal come storming out of the BatGrpCO's office. "Don't you start!" Animal warned ominously, a dark cloud palpably visible over his head. "And...why?" Metalman snickered just barely audibly. "I think you've got it pretty good. Why don't you get an autograph while you're up there?" "Keep it up and you'll get busted down to Seaman." Snarled Animal as he headed for the mess. "Must be fun being a glorified chauffeur for the Rich and Famous." Divebomb grinned. "Stop laughing your head off, numb-nuts, or I can set you up with the zero-dark thirty for the rest of the cruise!" That silenced them. "Fucking celebrities!" grumbled Animal as he made his way up the corridor. "Cause when you're a celebrity It's adios reality You can act just like a fool And people think you're cool Just cause you're on T.V." "Honey, just go with it." Liandra said through the telephone as Animal complained about the VIP flight assigned to him. "Look, it really isn't that bad, is it?" "Yeah." Was his short reply. He then expounded. "The fact of the matter is, it's a combat zone. We don't have time for stuff like that. We're too busy flying round the clock missions. All this is is a feel good, pat-on-the-back for Navy-fucking-PR to score a coup. I've got two hops of four hours a-piece scheduled cause one of my pilots is down with the flu. I don't have time to even pee 'cause I'm either up there, or I'm planning missions. I'm ahead of the power curve all freakin' day and I don't have time to rest." Metalman standing behind him near the phone started playing air violin complete with sound effects. "Shut the fuck up, fumble-nuts." Animal snarled, hand on the mouthpiece, and his free-hand coming up with the avian peace sign. Metalman and Divebomb started snickering. "I can throw major fits When my latte isn't just how I like it They say I've gone insane I'll blame it on the fame And the pressures that go with.... Being a Celebrity" The COD came on board, and trapped the third wire. Animal was still steaming. And as the ramp in the back of the COD came down, he saw...a baseball player step down from the back. "Aw...shit!!!" Animal snarled to his RIO as he looked at the player. He was Barry Davis of the NY Giants. Animal's mouth turned up in a sneer. "Don't tell me I have to carry that sorry sack of bones in my F-14." "Yep..." Harm's voice startled him from his side as the entourage passed by. The asshole was getting the red carpet treatment. "Hey, he's got a RBI average that's outta this world." "Yeah," sneered Animal, "I got a kill score that's outta this world. Does that make me think the whole world revolves around me?" he snapped. "Not fucking likely." "Oh, you'll like this. The Navy PR department wants you there at the dinner tonight, in full dress whites. It's a dress whites affair. Get your medal." Harm said meaning- fully. "Yeah." Animal growled, "What if I said I left my blue- button with my wife?" "Well, Lia sent it to me to give to you." He handed a Navy blue colored box with gold gilt engraving on the lid, reading 'MEDAL OF HONOR'. "Considering the Navy PR Dept. asked specifically for you, she entrusted its safekeeping to me." Harm grinned covetously at the medal box. "Yeah, at least you didn't have to get shot at." Animal retorted. "I'll get to cry to Barbara Walters When things don't go my way I'll get community service No matter which law I break" Mac sat quietly with Animal as he contemplated the schedules. She wanted some quiet time to talk with her friend. "So, I see they're keeping you busy." "Yep," Animal muttered. "Keep me in the operations room. It keeps me out of trouble." Mac laughed. "Yeah, but you keep saying trouble seems to find you." "You sure Harm can't take him up?" Animal looked at Mac. Mac shook her head. "Nope, liability issues. Any VIP flight has to be done by a currently rated pilot. Which means all their carrier quals have to be up to date." "Aw shit!" Animal, being usually his well-ordered self, had just completed his six month carrier qualifications. Another opportunity to bail just flushed down the toilet. "Did Harriet recommend me?" "Yes." Mac said. "And your being a blue-button recipient actually helped." Animal rolled his eyes in response. "You really don't want to do this, do you." Mac patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Does it look like it?" sarcasm dripped from Animal's lips. I'll make the supermarket tabloids They'll write some awful stuff But the more they run my name down The more my price goes up!" "Mr. Davis." The Admiral said from the head of the table. "I'd like to introduce you to the pilot who will be taking you up on your VIP flight. He is a well-decorated veteran who has shot down 16 enemy fighters and as you can see, he is also the recipient of our nation's top award for valor." Barry Davis' eyes assessed Animal's medal. "He's a Medal of Honor winner?" "We call them recipients." Rear Admiral James Pointer gave Animal a reassuring grin. "He received the Medal of Honor for risking his life to attack a platoon of North Korean soldiers who were trying to prevent an extraction of a downed crew." Barry Davis nodded. Animal's mouth tugged up in a corner, smugly. 'Digest that one, sportsfan.' He thought. 'You're a baseball PLAYer, you hit balls around, they trained me to be a weapon in the air'. 'Be diplomatic' his conscience admonished him. The dinner ended with out much more fanfare. For Animal, the only thing palatable was the food. "Cause when you're a celebrity It's adios reality No matter what you do People think you're cool Just cause your on T.V." JAG HEADQUARTERS "Lieutenant Sims, Can I help you?" Harriet spoke. "Lieutenant?" the voice on the other end was growling. "Captain Chikamori. It's nice to hear from you." Harriet replied brightly "Can I help you?" "Did you recommend that I be the one to take this arrogant ballplayer up?" Animal snarled. "Yes, sir." She replied, getting the picture that Animal was not happy. "Is there a problem, sir?" "Yes, there damn well is a problem. Lieutenant. There is a goddamn war going on out there. I've got enough problems with my crew all trying to get three day passes so they can ogle some belly-dancers in Riyadh for some relief from the monotonous night-patrols we seem to be stuck on. We don't need some ball-player coming out here with some featherweight notion in his one of two operational brain-cells that flying in a piloted aircraft makes him a fighter pilot." "I see..." Harriet raised her eyebrows. "We've got MiGs out here that would happily like to take a bite out of my ass. Every so fucking often, one of Osama's enlightened flunkies gets a hair up his butt-crack and decides to launch off one of his surface to air missiles. I already have an R2D2 that works, I don't need one who is mentally retarded hampering my work and my ability to get home to my wife and kids with my own dear tender ass in one piece." "Yes, sir...but the Navy Public Relations..." "The Navy's Perenially Retarded Department can go jump in a lake!!!" Animal thundered in a stentorian roar that nearly made the phone vibrate. USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT (CVN-71) Harm and Mac looked at each other as they heard Animal throwing his major tantrum on the phone to Harriet. "I sure hope he feels better about this." Mac said to Harm who was trying to refrain from laughing his head off as Animal slammed the phone down with a strident "OH FUCK ME!!!" Mac grinned as she gave him a mock-low-lidded, sensuous look, purring, "Wouldn't your wife object to that?" At that Harm nearly collapsed in laughter. "Ha ha...very funny, Colonel." A sharp look directed at Col. Mackenzie caused Harm to nearly suffer serious injury from his cachinnation. "I can fall in and out of love Have marriages that barely last a month When they go down the drain I'll blame it on the fame And say it's just so tough... Being a Celebrity" The F-14s were getting ready to launch as Animal, Barry Davis and his various flunkies were getting ready to mount up in Animal's F-14. "Don't touch anything in the back." Animal growled. "You need at least six months of training before you can actually do anything constructive in the back cage." Barry nodded. "For your information..." Animal went on. "I don't like celebrities. In actual fact, I'm not really delighted in doing this VIP hop. We got a war going on out here. Anytime we go up we could be jumped. We need an experienced back-seater to be effective in this aircraft. So I'm hanging my ass out here so you can get your thrill ride. Understand?" Barry nodded. "If at any time I say eject, you pull the handles. But remember this, I gotta say eject three times. You touch it anytime before I say so three times, and I'll gladly launch your ass into the Persian Gulf and come home to my carrier. Got that?" Animal snarled. "And you can race the sharks to landfall." "I understand you don't like having to do this." Barry said quietly as he hitched the strap tightly on his loaned flight helmet. "No shit, Einstein." Animal said. "Fast Eagle 100...all interior checks complete." He radioed the cat officer. When they were sitting in the run-up zone, Scooter had gone over the back-seat equipment checks. They were going to be flying with radar equipment off. Hence the reason why they had a wingman. Today Animal's wingman was Metalman. The cat officer said. "Guess you're flying blind today, Cap'n?" "Yep. No R2D2 in the back." The cat officer instantly knew that Animal was dealing with a dead-weight in the back seat. Barry had the sense to keep his mouth shut during the radio transmissions. Animal lifted a thumbs up and saluted the plane captain who crouched down and pointed his hand towards the pointy end of the boat. The catapult fired. "Holy crap!" Barry groaned. "Do you guys do this everyday." "Yes...every day and twice on Sundays." Animal said. "This is a patrol. Everyday we go up and see if there's any Indians up here." "Indians?" "Bad guys." "You mean..." Barry started. "Yes...we get fired at" Animal said. "That's why I don't like this. The Navy PR department shoveled you in my hands 'cause they figured I could keep you safe up here. To tell you the truth, there ain't no safety around here. I've lost three good friends in this war. Two shot down by Surface to Air missiles and another, doing a low-speed photo-reconnaissance mission got shot up by anti-aircraft fire and dug a hole in the ground. So well, we get paid for this...you don't. And the shit will hit the fan if you buy the farm, doing some stupid-ass publicity stunt for Navy Public Relations." Barry was silent for a while. "So let's hitch up the wagons And head out West To the land of fun in the sun We'll be a real world bachelor Jackass Millionaires hey hey Hollywood Here we come!" "Must be tough being a celebrity." Animal remarked at about the three hour mark of their patrol. "Not really." Barry said. "Not like you guys. We just go out 8 months out of the year and hit a ball around. You guys are the real thing. You go out and fly missions and stuff like that. And there's a good chance that you might not come home. We just run the risk of getting beaned by a fly- ball that gets lost in the sun." "So, you ever get tired of being a ball-player?" "Nope." Barry grinned. He had his oxygen mask dangling by one hook, just like regular pilots. "Love it too much. Ya watch much ball?" "Naw, I like hockey better." Animal grunted. Barry laughed. "My daddy was a Marine, in Viet Nam. He had it pretty rough out there." "Yeah. No kidding." Animal said. "My daddy was a fighter pilot for the U.S. Air Force in the Nam, it runs in the family, I guess. I chose the Navy to be different." "How about your grandpa? My granddaddy served in the 101st Airborne." "Yeah. My grandpappy was interned at Manzanar." Animal said "Then they told him. 'you, Jap...we're gonna send you off ta Italy so you can go kill some Nazis.' And signed him up in the 442nd 'Go For Broke'." He got the Army Distinguished Service Cross for assaulting a Nazi machine gun emplacement single-handed. It just got recently upgraded to the blue- button." "Nice." Barry nodded. "Wasn't too nice back then. He got home, he still couldn't go in a restaurant. Full Army uniform, and they still told him 'No Japs Wanted Here...'. Lovely legacy." Animal eyeballed the horizon keeping watch out for bogeys. "Dunno if we've gotten smarter now, or dumber." Barry said as he kept his eyes peeled. "We're still causin' wars, still couchin' hatred." Animal snorted. "Yeah, and when we do stop, our jobs will be obsolete." "Yeah when you're a Celebrity It's adios reality No matter what you do People think you're cool Just cause your on T.V. Being a Celebrity..." "Heads up..." Animal heard Metalman's voice on the radio. "I think I got something." "I can't launch...without my radar on." Animal replied. "If it's a bandit, you're gonna have to tag." "Shit, we're handicapped out here." Divebomb groused. "Home- plate, we got one bird that can fire, the other is no-go. Recommend you send Ready 5." "Roger that, we'll be launching second bird in zero-five." "Step on it, Homeplate, this will be over in zero-two." Unbeknownst to Animal, Barry was surveying the switches, and looked to his left hand side, found and flicked the Radar/ IR/TV switch to on. "Shit, I got radar..." Animal said excitedly. "What the hell just happened?" "Switched her on for ya." Barry said. "Sorry, but I thought in this case ya might like to be able to see what's goin' on." "Thanks. I'll chew ya out for touchin' stuff later." Animal quipped as he pointed his nose towards the incoming aircraft. "OK...Barry, see the center stick that looks like a video game joystick? Use that to keep the radar locked on the incoming aircraft." He grunted as the g-force built up in their turn to meet the bogeys. "Keep the cone of that radar aimed directly at the aircraft." "OK, got ya." "Homeplate, this is Fast Eagle 100, I have nose hot, I have nose hot." Animal radioed. "Engaging..." "So this thing will enable you to shoot that enemy if you need to?" "Yep..." Animal said. Animal looked down at his TCS (TV Camera System) and saw the aircraft that they were engaging...MiG 23s. "We got Floggers," Metalman radioed as he rolled left. Animal followed. "Rolling in." The two Floggers flashed past "PASS!" Metalman grunted as he instantaneously snapped his F-14 into high-G turn into the attack. Animal flicked his weapons select to Sidewinder. "You tag 'em..." Metalman's response was a concerted attack towards the MiG. "Let's see if we can scare 'em off." Animal radioed. The MiGs were persistent. "Homeplate to Fast Eagle. You have a go-ahead. This is a No-Fly zone, you are cleared to shoot them." Animal grinned, flicking his master weapons arm switch to on. "Yep, just another day at the office." Barry grunted against the G-force, "Does that mean we're gonna fight him?" "Yep." Animal responded. "Keep the radar on the targets." "I'll try..." Barry responded...crouching his head down. "Good thing working out with the weights probably increased your resistance to G-forces." Animal remarked. "Uh-huh." Metalman locked one of the MiGs up, "Adios...I-packi! Fox 2" he said as he pulled on the trigger of his control stick. The F-14 jolted slightly as the AIM-9L jumped off his air- craft, tore a white scar through the air and slammed into the MiG turning it into spare parts amid a billowing angry ball of flame. Meanwhile Animal had maneuvered to lock the other MiG up. Escape was futile, since Animal had him in a box, a kill box as it was. The MiG was turning in a nice arc to evade the F-14 when the 'winder Animal fired guided directly up the Flogger's tailpipe and exploded, emitting a gout of flame from the aircraft which began a nice slow roll, while spitting chunks of itself, into the ocean. "Well, Barry, that's a fine end to a VIP flight, huh?" "Yeah, you said it." Barry wheezed, the fight had taken a lot out of him. "Congrats, you're the only civilian to have ever gotten an aircraft kill, something to write home to your momma about." The return to Homeplate was uneventful as was the trap. Animal tagged another three-wire. Barry caught the next COD back out to the world. (3 days later) The ball-game was blaring in the ready-room. The ball-fans were sitting in the seats and kicking up their heels. "Attention, CAG on deck!" yelled an officer as Animal entered the room. "As you were, gentlemen." Animal said. "Whatcha watchin'?" "Giants versus the Blue Jays." Animal turned his attention to the T.V. "Davis is up to the plate. He's had an incredible game so far. 3 runs batted in..." the announcer's voice filled the room. "Bottom of the ninth, Bases loaded, three runners on base. And the Giants trailing by two." A sharp cheer from the Blue Jay fans as the thrown pitch went wide. "Ball one. Davis elected not to swing on that one." The color commentator said. "That was a little on the outside." The pitcher wound up again and fired a fastball low and to the ground. "Ball two" "With the danger that Davis presents to the Jays, Monfriez is going to try to walk him to preserve a one run win." Another pitch and the crack of a bat meeting ball filled the air as Animal's pilots jumped up and cheered. "Yes!!!" the color commentator yelled. "Davis swings and connects. That ball is going out, and downtown... It's over the wall...and into the third row bleachers. Davis has come through again. He's the Giant's hero tonight capping a two-run victory over the Blue Jays here tonight." Animal grinned. "Good game" As he turned his attention to the next day patrol roster. About ten minutes later, he turned his attention to the TV again when he heard that familiar voice. "You know. This is just a game, man." Barry was saying to the TV reporter. "Now, I've gotten my share of bad press sayin' that I was stuck-up...man, and I gotta admit that. Hey, once this is over, this is over, man. I gotta ten year career at best. And I gotta start lookin' ahead at what I wanna do once the Big Show's over. But I know some guys, some guys I met on the Theodore Roosevelt, man, they have a career that means puttin' it (their lives) on the line, man. Gotta chance to go up there with them, doin' what they do for a livin', and man, that really put the ball-game in perspective. We make millions smackin' that little white ball around with a bat. But these guys are puttin' their life on the line for $18,000-$60,000 an year, all 'cause they love their country. Met up with a captain who took me up in an F-14, we got in a dogfight and got a kill outta it. If ya tuned in, Animal and not watchin' hockey, Thank ya, brother. But they do it 7-11...style, always open...always up there, man. So this is the shout-out to my brothers on the TR. We love ya, man!" He gave the ghetto-sign for love and waved it in the air. Animal shook his head, laughing "Celebrity." He grunted. "Yeah Celebrity!" *THE END*