Test Pilot's Daughter: Revenge (9 page)

Trying to sound calm, Christina quipped, “Will we actually be flying these airplanes, or are we just along for the ballast?”

Lazer chortled aloud, “Ho ho, you are a pistol. . .ain’t bad looking neither.”

Frog seemed the more collegiate type. He explained articulately, “Our insurance requires that we safety pilots take off and land the T-34s, but in between, it’s all up to you. We’re in the backseat for safety only. Of course, we’re only happy to offer some basic instruction and helpful hints. But unless you do something really stupid like trying to ram each other or pass out cold, you’ll be flying the entire mission. Trust me, you’ll find these planes very powerful and easy to maneuver.”

“
So, what’s the worst thing we could do then?” asked Christina with a serious face. “What do customers do that pisses you guys off?”

“
Negative Geee’s,” Lazer replied with a twang. “We hate them negative Geee’s. They the ones that makes yore guts try to come outta yore mouth. Don’t be trying no outside loops or nothin’. Always try to roll the wings around so you can pull through positive Geee’s. Just keep our asses planted hard in that seat, and we’ll be happy as a couple a slugs.”

Furgeson looked at Christina and grinned.

Strolling out to the two airplanes, she tried not to look like the worried female daring to venture into a man’s world. Here she was, a flying novice with ten hours in her logbook, sauntering into combat with three professional fighter pilots. She knew that women, with their smaller frames and ability to stand high G stress had done quite well in air combat. She just hoped she’d be able to represent her gender with some sense of pride.

While the two safety pilots were busy with the airplanes, Christina pulled Furgeson to one side and said, “Make sure I get paired with Lazer,” she whispered.

“
Now, why would you want that
jackass?
He’s obviously what you women call a Chauvinist. Besides, he’s got the fat head.”

Christina was surprised. Furgeson actually sounded jealous. “Look at his left hand.”

“
What’s wrong with it?”

“
No, silly, he’s single,” she whispered aloud.

“
So, that just means he’s got nothin’ to lose.”

“
Come on, John, how about a little cooperation?”

Their hosts walked up, and Frog asked, “So, who’s flying with whom?”

“
It really doesn’t matter to me,” answered Furgeson, “but whoever flies with this girl had better have the
Right Stuff.
She’s not what I’d call your timid flyer.”

They chuckled.

“
Well, how ‘bout I volunteer to fly with this young gal?” Lazer jumped in putting one arm around her shoulders. Giving Frog a threatening look he said, “We’ll kick yore hard asses right out of the sky?” It was obviously part of the act, but she thought he sounded quite convincing.

The green, camouflage-painted aircraft were spectacular, parked side by side on the tarmac, luminous in the midday sun. Those planes, which looked like something out of WWII, were immaculately maintained and absolutely gorgeous. She walked around with Lazer on the preflight.

“
That roll-back canopy is just too cool,”
she said,
“feels like climbing up on the wings of a fighter jet.”

She stepped into the front seat and clumsily plopped down, struggling with the complicated safety harnesses. Lazer kneeled down to help. She felt a definite rush as he reached around her waist to pull out the latches. She gasped as he snugged the straps across her breasts. He gave her a big smile, “Just wanna make sure yore secure, that’s all.” His hands lingered on her harness.

“
Why, thank you, Lazer, but I do think I can take it from here,” she smiled back. She thought,
He might be a Chauvinist pig, but right now he’s my Chauvinist pig, and I’m gonna need him when the shit hits the fan.

Finally, Lazer and Frog fired up the powerful engines with a roar. With the canopy pulled back, Christina felt the rush full force as propwash blew her hair.
What a feeling!
Finishing all the preflight checks, they taxied onto the runway. She couldn’t believe the civilian tower cleared them to take off in formation only a few feet apart. Frog, in the lead, nodded to give the signal, and they both hit full throttle. Just as his gear left the runway, Lazer pulled up and called, “Gears up.” They were climbing in perfect formation. When she saw how close they were, her sphincter knotted.
Holy crap!
Lazer tucked his left wing no more than two feet under the end of Frog’s. Even though they were bouncing around in light chop, it appeared the two planes were connected with invisible glue.

Pulling out of formation, Lazer spoke to her over the intercom, “Okay sweetheart, yore airplane.”

Grasping the stick firmly, Christina moved it around to get used to the controls. She loved the feel of the stick protruding up between her legs. The controls were so much more sensitive than the yoke of the 150. She looked through the gun sight, put her finger on the trigger and waved the wings back and forth. The plane handled just like a video flight simulator with a joystick.

“
Too good to be true!” she yelled.

“
Don’t worry none, sweetheart; yore gonna get plenty a yankin’ and bankin’.”

“
Can we do some aerobatics to warm up?” she asked boldly.

“
Damn good idie.” Lazer got on the radio, “Frog give us a minute. We’re gonna rock and roll over here a bit, so
Christina the Sky Warrior
can get the feel of ‘er plane.”

“
Roger that, Lazer. We’ll do the same. Have fun.”

Over the practice area, maneuvering in a safety zone between 5,000 and 10,000 feet, Lazer coached her through some loops and aileron rolls. She was thrilled with the maneuverability of the T-34. Lifting the nose just above the horizon and banging the stick hard left rolled the aircraft all the way around its longitudinal axis in just a couple of seconds. It was a thrill to watch the far horizon spin 360 degrees, then level the wings for a perfect aileron roll. A loop in the Mentor was even more impressive.

“
You’ll wanna ease that nose down and git yore airspeed up ta 175. Then give the stick just enough back pressure fer a constant force holding your ass in the seat all the way over the top,” Lazer advised.

Christina eased the stick forward, accelerating and then pulled back smoothly, holding the wings level. The nose came up and the far horizon disappeared as the cockpit filled with blue sky. The airplane pointed straight up like a rocket. Up and over the top, the back horizon rolled into view, inverted. She continued the pull as the nose pointed straight down then leveled, bumping through her own wake. With positive G’s all the way, the maneuver was quite comfy.

“
Not bad, girl. How many hours did you say you had?”

“
Only ten hours in my log, but I’ve done some aerobatics in a Citaborea. This is a lot easier.”

Next, the combatants took turns chasing each other just to make sure the equipment was working.

“
Hey Frog, we’re rolling in behind ya,” Lazer reported in. “Y’all do some maneuvering, and we’ll see if this gal can stay on yore tail.”

Furgeson hauled his plane around like a roller-coaster, and Christina stuck to him like a bad reputation. “Can I give him a shot and see if our laser gun works?” she asked.

“
Sho ‘nough, sweetie. Give ‘er a try.” Lazer rolled the gun sight camera.

She swept in no more than fifty yards behind and pointed her nose to center the crosshairs on Furgeson’s cockpit. Squeezing the trigger, white smoke puffed out of his plane.

“
Wow, that’s cool. Works great!” she said.

“’
At’sa ’nough foolin’ around,” Lazer said over the radio. “Let’s get to work on some Yo Yo training. You guys get down on the perch, and we’ll be first to attack.”

“
Roger,” Frog replied.

Just as Lazer had described, the YoYo maneuvers were quite effective at getting behind the enemy for a shot. The only surprise was the intensity of the Gs at the bottom of the pull, where Christina had to strain to maintain consciousness. At four to five G’s she was shoved hard into the seat and noticed her entire peripheral vision went black until the pressure was released. On her third attempt, she was seized by nausea and came very close to throwing up. She shuddered at the thought of getting sick before the greatest adventure of her life.

“
I think I got it,” she told Lazer as her stomach tried to settle. “Let’s get on with the combat.”

Lazer got back on the radio, “This little gal’s tired of practicing this crap. She’d like to move right on to the real thing. Y’all ready?”

“
Right on,” Frog replied. “Let’s go!”

The gladiators were coached to maneuver their T-34s for a separation of about five miles. They would charge head-on and begin the fight as the wings passed on the left side, the standard set up for air combat practice. The two T-34s approached at a relative airspeed of 330 knots. Christina saw her opponent first as a small dot, then the image grew like an approaching missile. The planes passed in a flash of green, and the instructors both yelled over the radio, “Fight’s
on!”

Pumped with adrenaline, she rolled ninety degrees into a climbing left turn, pulling hard on the stick seeking advantage. Furgeson did the same. Up, up and up in a spiraling corkscrew, neither gained ground. Furgeson was first to run out of energy, and he stalled into a spin. With the skill of an old combat pilot, he quickly arrested the spin and went straight down as she trailed after him. Pulling out at 6,000 feet, she saw a chance for a shot and was just lining up her crosshairs when Furgeson’s plane disappeared. Looking back over her right shoulder she saw he had pulled up in a sweeping barrel roll that slowed his forward motion just enough to fall in behind. Before she could mount a defense, she heard the “pickle.” Smoke went barreling out of her plane, and both Furgeson and Frog screamed with delight, “Knock it off suckers.
You’re dead!”

Kicking herself for not getting her shot off faster, Christina could’ve thrown in the towel. She felt like hell. Her head was throbbing, and her stomach felt like she had just eaten eight or ten donuts. But quitting wasn’t in her character. Instead, she got on the radio in defiance, “Oh, that’s
bullshit!
I had you right in my sights. Thought you were going to turn, so I could do a High YoYo. You gotta give me another go.”

“
No prob,” Frog agreed. “Got time for one more. That is, if you don’t mind getting your ass busted again.”

She was bound and determined not to be out-maneuvered by the old coot twice.
He’s seventy-four
for Christ’s sake!
Surely her athletic body could handle more stress. While flying out to separate the two planes, she asked for some advice, “Lazer, I got to admit, I’m getting a little green at the gills. I need a quick kill. Any suggestions?”

“
Be creative. Try something he won’t expect. This thing’ll do ‘bout anything ya want,” Lazer drawled on. “When I say, ‘fight’s on,’ try pulling straight up in a loop. He’ll be looking for ya ‘round to his side, and you’ll be comin’ over the top. With the sun just overhead, he won’t be able to see. There’s and old saying in air combat, ‘Lose Sight, Lose Fight!’
”

The second charge was on, and Furgeson once again rolled into a steep left turn. Christina went straight up in a big loop. As the back horizon rolled into view, she could see the little plane down below as he dived in a defensive maneuver. Sweeping her cross hairs in front of his plane, she pulled the trigger, just missing a quick “snap shot.” Pulling out at the bottom of the loop, she could see he was turning in defense, so she yanked the stick up into a Hi YoYo. Unable to move in behind, she commenced another cycle and started feeling dizzy. At the bottom of the third looping maneuver, the centrifugal force tried to rip the skin off her face. At six G’s, she was smashed into her seat so hard, she could barely hold her hands on the stick. Just as her vision was going black, she saw the T-34 square in her sights. Squeezing the trigger, a thick stream of white smoke poured out of Furgeson’s plane. She finally released back-pressure and claimed her victory.