AVGAS and water for your boondoggle–now you want to cadge a RIO out of my Air
Wing as well? Besides, I thought this hotshot stuff was too complicated for a
mere Fleet Tomcat aviator.”
“The backseat’s not so bad,” Batman argued. “A few improvements, but
nothing a sharp RIO can’t catch on to in a few lessons. Bouncer can talk her
through it in a few hours.”
“Her?”
Batman had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. “Yeah, well you see,
it’s like this, Admiral. I’ve gotten used to flying with a female backseater.
Bulldog–that’s my regular RIO–broke me of a number of bad habits in the last
six months. I was just thinking that there’s enough going on for a pilot that
it’d be counter-productive to have to get used to a male voice in my ear,
seeing’s how I’m all trained up to expect some sweet young thing cooing about
missile ranges.”
“You said your RIO was called Bulldog?”
“Well, she doesn’t exactly coo. Don’t tell her I said that if you ever
meet her, okay? But this is going to take a smart RIO to catch on quick. I
was hoping you might let me borrow Tomboy.”
“You want AVGAS and my own RIO?” Tomboy still flew every qualification
flight Tombstone managed to squeeze into his schedule. Since she’d been his
RIO in combat, it seemed only natural. Unwillingly, though, Tombstone found
that he understood what Batman meant about having to get used to new voices
from the backseat. And Tomboy was one of the smartest RIOs he’d ever come
across. She’d had as much, if not more, combat experience than any man in her
squadron.
“You can ask her,” Tombstone said finally. “If she says yes, and on the
condition that she still flies with me when I go up, you can borrow her.
Understood?”
“Roger that, Admiral!” A strange expression played across Batman’s face.
“Um, I’ll look out for her, Tombstone. You know? I mean–well–if she’s your
RIO.”
“She’s just an aviator, Batman,” Tombstone said, answering the question
that Batman would not dare ask directly. “Now how about these queer Tomcats?”
he continued, intentionally changing the subject.
Batman nodded and looked relieved. Message received and rogered for,
Tombstone thought.
“What do you think?” Batman said, gesturing to the aircraft.
“Nice paint job. If it works as good as it looks, we can keep you busy.”
“Let me show you the radome. We’ll put some power on her, and I’ll show
you what the new avionics look like.” Batman led Tombstone around to the nose
of the aircraft with a proprietorial air.
“Hold it! Great shot!” Tombstone heard someone say. Irritated, he
glanced back toward the voice. He’d be damned if one of his Public Affairs
Officers, or PAOs, was going to turn one of his few moments of freedom into a
photo opportunity. The cruise book would have to go without recording this
historic event.
He caught sight of the photographer and groaned. Somewhere on his desk,
he was sure, was a message detailing the composition of the small civilian
press pool that had arrived with the two JAST birds on the COD. It was one
thing to tell his own PAO staff to get stuffed–another thing entirely to
offend the civilian media.
As the photographer knelt on the flight deck to steady his camera,
another figure came into view. Tombstone felt a red flush creep up his neck
and caught the trace of amusement on Batman’s face.
“You could have told me, asshole,” he hissed at his former wingman.
“And miss this look on your face, Admiral? Oh, no, Stoney, I don’t think
so. Besides, I thought you told me you had a hotshot staff? Didn’t they
brief you on the press?”
“Damn it, Batman, I want to see your ass in my cabin as soon as you get
these birds tucked in and tied down!”
A woman stepped forward and held out her hand. “Hello, Tombstone–or
should I say, Admiral Magruder?” she said warmly, pitching her voice low so
that no one else could catch the words. “It’s been a very long time.”
He said the only words that came to mind. “Welcome aboard, Miss Drake.”