Lindsay McKenna - No Quarter Given

Looking around, she studied the other waiting student pilots. They all looked frightened. Some moved around nervously, crossing and uncrossing their legs. Others wiped sweat from their faces. Others sat stoically, their eyes dark with fear. Fear, Dana wondered, of what? Flying? Possibly failing? Maggie had told her last night that the big illness going around Whiting Field was gastroenteritis— a stomachache. She’d heard from a tenth-week student that the dispensary was always filled to capacity early in the morning with students who were afraid to face their instructors or a grueling flight test.

Well, it wasn’t going to happen to her, Dana decided. As soon as she saw Dr. Collins, she’d be sitting on the Turk’s doorstep, letting him know she wasn’t afraid of him, of that trainer or of flying with him. This was only the first skirmish in a long six-week war, as far as Dana was concerned. And she wasn’t going to let him win round one.

* * *

Griff heard a firm knock at his office door. He’d just gotten off the phone with Dr. Collins, who had put Dana on flight waivers for an entire week. Part of him was relieved. He had to admit that another part of him wanted to see her; but that was a stupid and immature reaction.

“Enter,” he growled. His next student, Ted Dunlop, wasn’t scheduled until 1030. He had the whole morning to catch up on the unending paper chase that crossed his desk daily.

Dana stepped into Griff’s office and came to attention in front of his desk. She didn’t dare look at him. “Ensign Coulter reporting for duty, sir.”

Griff sat back, stunned. This morning her flight uniform fit her a little better. It was obvious she’d trimmed the sleeves and pant legs and done quite a bit of sewing last night, but she still looked small and vulnerable in the olive-green uniform. He shoved back his response.

“What the hell are you doing here? Dr. Collins put you on flight waivers, Coulter.”

“I may be on flight waivers, sir, but that doesn’t stop me from learning what I can on the ground. I don’t like missing a week of flying.”

“This just goes to prove my previous point. Women can’t take it. You’re weak, Coulter, and that’s why you were placed on waivers.”

Dana glared down at him. Ordinarily, Griff should have told her to move to parade rest, but he hadn’t. Standing at attention for a long time was tiring, but she wasn’t going to say anything. “Women aren’t weak, sir. ”

Griff reared back in his chair and held her blazing blue gaze. “The hell they aren’t.”

“The injury to my eye prevents me from flying only,” Dana hurled back at him.

“I wonder what it will be next, Coulter?”

“There won’t be anything else.”

Griff managed a twisted smile. “Bet me.”

“Any amount you want, sir. ”

He measured her for a long moment, the silence growing brittle. “Women, by nature are weak, Ensign.”

“Where I come from, they’re strong and capable, sir. I guess you just haven’t run into any of my kind.”

With a snort, Griff got to his feet. How he wanted to throw down the red flag of war and surrender to those defiant blue eyes. Dana’s mouth… Sweet heaven, Griff thought. What would it be like to mold those lips to his and taste her fiery response? And then he remembered Carol, who had appeared so capable and independent, too—at first.

“Ensign, you’ve got nothing to do but get well. Now get out of here.”

Dana stubbornly remained. “It’s 0800, Lieutenant. Can’t you at least walk me around and introduce me to the trainer? I can read up on the manuals while I’m recuperating. I’m not an invalid, you know.”

Pleased with her response, Griff shrugged. “A walk-around? You’re picking up the lingo fast, Coulter.”

Moving into a parade-rest position, hands behind her back, Dana continued to meet his stormy gray gaze. “Give me half a chance to prove myself, Mr. Turcotte, and I’ll earn my wings.”

For a moment Griff almost believed her. “Come with me, Dana—er, Coulter. If you want to play at learning how to fly, I’ll go along with your game.”

Throttling her anger, Dana followed him out of the office. As they left admin, she noticed the pink dawn on the horizon for the first time. Whiting Field was small, she had heard, in comparison to the Pensacola air station where most of the student flying was conducted. Both sat on the Gulf of Mexico, in Florida’s panhandle. Still, the airport had six runways, a large, glass-enclosed control tower and a number of barracks that housed students and personnel alike. She was glad that she and Maggie and Molly had an apartment off station.

“Why do you use the word play, Lieutenant?” Dana lengthened her short stride to keep up with Griff. He towered over her, his shoulders thrown back with pride. Despite his arrogance, she would never forget his actions at the airport.

“Women play at everything. Life’s a game with them, Coulter. I’m sure you know that.”

“No, sir, I don’t know that. I take my commitment to the Navy seriously.”

“Yeah, a six-year commitment. You’ll probably snag a higher-grade officer, get married and end up with a brood of kids and quit.”

“Barefoot and pregnant?”

Griff heard the steel in her lowered tone. “Isn’t that the goal of every woman, Coulter? A husband with a big fat paycheck? Security?” That had been Carol’s aim, she had confided timidly the day she’d asked for a divorce.

“I wouldn’t be here if that were my goal, Lieutenant.”

With a harsh laugh, Griff headed onto the tarmac after flashing his security badge at the gate guard. In front of them were five neat lines of parked aircraft, six to each row. The trainers had been serviced and checked the night before by teams of hardworking enlisted mechanics, and now were ready for their demanding flight schedule for the coming day.

Griff looked for tail number 13115, his trainer. It sat at the end of row three. Glancing down, he noticed Dana’s alertness. Her eyes roved restlessly, and she didn’t seem to miss much. It was one thing he looked for in a prospective student. Alertness could save a student’s life—and his, too.

Halting, Griff stood in front of the trainer. “This is 13115, Coulter. My plane. A walk-around consists of checking out the external surfaces of the aircraft. You’re to look for possible hydraulic leaks under the wings, check the ailerons, rudders and elevators to make sure they work properly.” Griff moved in a counterclockwise circle around the trainer, pointing here and there. “The student is responsible for the walk-around. The crew chief on this plane is AVM Parker, and he’ll present you with the discrepancy book on it. You’re to look at it, see if everything’s been repaired and sign it off after the visual inspection.” Griff pinned her with a dark look. “Failure to do so leads to an automatic Board.”

“You don’t have to look so happy about it, Mr. Turcotte. I’m not going to fail to sign off the discrepancy log.”

With a grimace, he muttered, “I’ll believe that when I see it. But then, you won’t be making it past six weeks with me, anyway. I’ll bet you fall apart on me within the first week, Coulter.”

Dana held his glare. “You really believe that, don’t you?” What made Griff feel so strongly about women? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but she decided not to—at least, not right now. Some of Griff’s surliness had disappeared as he’d gotten out on the flight line. Even now, a new eagerness and excitement in his eyes had replaced the brooding glare he normally had around her.

“In my experience, Coulter, women pretend they’re strong until the chips are down. Then they fall apart, expecting a man to pick up the pieces.” He halted at the tail of the plane, placing his hands on his hips. “Well, I’m going to let you prove it to me all over again.”