Under Fire. Lindsay McKenna

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      “Good.” He leaned forward. “Hall is refusing to fly with you again, Maggie, even if it means a court-martial. Those are pretty strong words for a career officer. He’s serious.”

      “Yes, sir, I know he is.”

      Tapping his fingers on the files beneath his hand, Howard rolled his eyes. “I’ve got a dilemma, Maggie. Hall was chosen because he’s the very best RIO the Navy has. In my opinion, you’re our best combat pilot. I wanted the best paired with the best. We’ve only got three more months to prepare for Red Flag. You know how important teamwork and timing between the pilot and RIO is. It takes time to develop.”

      “No one realizes that more than I do, sir.”

      Getting up, he went to his coffee maker and poured himself a cup. “Want some?”

      What Maggie wanted right now was a good, stiff belt of Irish whiskey. “No, thank you, sir.”

      “Cut the ‘sir’ stuff, Maggie. Relax. I’m not hauling your ass off this assignment, so stop looking like I’m going to end your career at any moment. Do you want some coffee?”

      Relief cascaded through Maggie. She managed a slight smile. “Yes, sir… I mean, oh, hell. Yeah, give me a cup. My nerves are shot from squaring off with Hall.”

      Howard handed her a mug. He sat on the edge of the desk and thoughtfully sipped his coffee for several minutes before speaking.

      “Why didn’t you come to me sooner about him?” he asked finally.

      Maggie got up, unable to sit still any longer. She’d always had an overload of nervous energy. “I thought it was me, at first.”

      “Oh?”

      “You know how bullheaded and opinionated I can get.”

      “Yes. Like an overfocused laser on occasion.”

      Maggie nodded and sipped her steaming-hot coffee. “It’s a weakness. But I also know my strengths, Commander. The first month with Hall was awful, but I assumed it was my fault. The second month, after changing tactics and trying my best to be diplomatic, nothing changed.” She shrugged. “This last month I just said to hell with it and went back to being myself, hoping Hall would adjust.”

      “He didn’t.”

      She sighed unhappily. “No.”

      “You’re still buying into the double standard, Maggie.”

      She stared at Parkinson in disbelief.

      “Close your mouth, Maggie. I didn’t hit you, for heaven’s sakes.”

      Snapping her mouth shut, she said, “Okay, what gives?”

      “You followed the classic conditioned reflex of assuming it was your fault that Hall was reacting to you the way he did.” The commander drilled her with a dark look. “Now, I know pilots and RIOs all have big egos, Maggie. They have to. Ego clashes are common in this little world of combat aviation. It takes a healthy ego to fly a thirty-five-million-dollar jet fighter on and off the heaving deck of a carrier. That RIO sitting behind you is helpless, dependent on your flight skills. He’s not only got to think you’re the best damn pilot in the world, but that he’s the best damned RIO. Sometimes, seasoned RIOs get pretty plucky—even more egotistical than a pilot, if you can believe that. And when they do, they start encroaching on the pilot’s territory. The problem usually only rears its head in combat circumstances.”

      Maggie stood very still, assimilating Parkinson’s statement. “That’s exactly what happened. Hall started second-guessing me when we were closing in for a kill on radar or the heads-up display. I wouldn’t stand still for his badgering me to fire before I felt it was appropriate. We got into a lot of squabbles on the intercom.”

      “I was hoping it wouldn’t happen,” Howard murmured, sitting down at his desk. “But I knew there was a possibility it could.”

      Her eyes rounded. “Well, why didn’t you warn me?”

      “Maggie, if I told you everything I’ve learned, would you remember it, much less use it?”

      “I’d give it one hell of a try.”

      He shook his head. “Making a good fighter pilot is part teaching and part letting them learn from their own experience. You’ve had three RIOs here at Miramar over the years. Hall was your fourth. You got along well with the first three. That’s why I didn’t swallow all of Hall’s accusations. Unfortunately this assignment went to his head. Being touted as the best RIO in the Navy is no small boast, Maggie. He swallowed his own press—hook, line and sinker.”

      She snorted. “And I see my responsibility as the first woman fighter-pilot in the Navy to be just the opposite. It’s a load to carry. If I screw up, every other woman will be pointed at and told she’s just like me. And that’s not true. Why didn’t Hall see his assignment the way I do?”

      “Because the double standard’s still alive and kicking, Maggie. Hall’s a man, and moving higher up on the ladder of success breeds ego, confidence and, in some, a swelled head. Because you’re a woman, you took exactly the opposite tack: your elevated status equaled responsibility and nothing more. Women have had it drilled into them for five thousand years that they’re to be meek and subservient.”

      Maggie sat back down, deep in thought. “Okay, so I’ve learned a valuable lesson, Commander. But this sure isn’t going to help us at Red Flag. How can I train a new RIO to work with me when it’s only three months away?”

      Howard raised his brows. “Good tactical assessment of our problem.”

      Maggie felt a tiny bit better when Parkinson framed it as “our” problem and not just hers. She liked his ability to work as a team, guiding everyone toward working for a common goal.

      “However,” Parkinson went on, “I also want you to realize, Maggie, that Hall may have had some valid criticism of your performance. I’m not talking about his name-calling.”

      Her conscience pricked her. “Yes, sir, I do tend to come down on the RIO when things get tense. I just don’t want to get nailed by the enemy, that’s all. I have to perform outstandingly every time.”

      “I know that, Maggie, and that’s why I’m not hauling you on the carpet over Hall’s transfer. The work between a pilot and an RIO is like a marriage. It can be made in heaven or hell.”

      Quirking her mouth, Maggie nodded. “Well, ours went straight to hell,” she conceded softly. “I know I didn’t help things, sometimes. But, dammit, Hall just got my goat!”

      “No, he pushed the buttons on that temper of yours.”

      “I’ve been working on corralling it. Honest to God, I have.”

      “Hmm.” Parkinson eyed several folders on his desk. “I’ve got three new RIO candidates flying in today for Top Gun classes. I’m going to look over their records and see what we’ve got to choose from. Then, I’ll pick one for you—”

      “Sir, may I interview the potential candidate?” Maggie knew she shouldn’t even ask such a question. СКАЧАТЬ