Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

She stepped closer. Red fluorescent lights lined the ceiling of the aircraft, haloing her in sinful enticement. "It's amazing the force doesn't wake her up."

An air pocket bucked the plane, jostling Darcy closer still. Max yearned for a bigger plane. "Actually, dolphins only sleep with one side of the brain at a time."

"Is it some kind of protection thing? To keep watch for predators? Sharks maybe."

Renshaw wasn't easily daunted. Okay, he needed to dig deeper into class lectures. "Dolphins breathe with voluntary muscles. Not like us where it's involuntary. One side of a dolphin's brain always stays awake to regulate breathing."

"Oh. Kind of like Crusty, huh? Half there sometimes."

He forced himself to grin back at her mistaken perception about the OSI contact currently sitting in the cockpit. Max had never worried overmuch about the lies inherent in his job before. A means to a better end. Why did it bother him now?

Shake it off and get to work. "Did you need something?"

"Not really." Her whiskey-rich voice mingled with the roar of engines. "Just taking a break to stretch my legs."

Legs.

Max kept his famished eyes off those mile-long legs and searched for something safe to study, like her flight suit patches. She shifted from boot to boot, relaying restless nerves at odds with all that gutsy confidence.>All in all, a great night for flying.

She glanced at the HUD, Heads-Up Display. The plexiglass screen at eye level mirrored the instrument panel so she never had to take her eyes off the sky. Not that there was much to see in the inky darkness, but a night flight had been crucial for temperature control for the dolphins.

Dolphins. Max Keagan.

Double damn and dirt.

One simple thought about the unusual freight blew her concentration. Her attention winged straight back to the cargo hold of dolphins and their spiky-haired trainer.

"Think about flying," she whispered, chanting, "charts, airspeed, whiz wheels, flight times."

The 4:00 a.m. takeoff from coastal San Diego would keep them in the dark as they chased time zones west. Even with their twelve hours in the air, the sun would only just be rising in Guam once they landed.

Then she wouldn't have the distractions of instrumentation checks and flight schedules to keep her thoughts from lofting along tempting routes. Sure the dolphin doctor's eyes had blazed interest initially. Until his brief. Then she might as well have been stuck behind a Vulcan cloaking device for all the notice he took of her.

Darcy sighed and wondered why the usual spice of flying seemed flat tonight, like unsalted sunflower seeds. She lived for these moments in the air. She'd fought a major battle with her father over entering pilot training.

Of course Pops had won big-time this week by keeping her out of any real war. Irritation tightened her grip on the stick.

Bronco shut his book. "Have I showed you the latest pictures of Kathleen and the baby at the beach?''

"Yes!" Darcy and Crusty said. The headset echoed with the loadmaster's affirmative from the back.

"Oh." Bronco deflated like a parachute deprived of wind.

Darcy flipped the autopilot switch and wriggled her fingers for the pictures. "But I'd love to see them again."

A smile wreathed Bronco's big mug as he passed the pack. "Just for that, my now favorite copilot, you get the takeoff when we leave Guam, while ol' Crusty there warms that jump seat again."

Anticipation fired through her. A takeoff was a rare thrill for any copilot. Training requirements called for copilots to log more landings than takeoffs. Which logistically made sense because the aircraft commander would always be on hand for takeoff, but a copilot needed to be prepared to land if the senior pilot became incapacitated. Or was shot in combat.

The possibility of an imminent war-zone assignment clenched inside her as tightly as her white-knuckled fist on the beach pictures. Not that she was afraid, she told herself. No way. A Renshaw showed no fear. She wanted a chance to make a difference in Cantou like her bomber navigator brother and fighter pilot sister. They didn't have to battle their dad for every walk on the edge the way Darcy did.

She needed this chance to reconcile her past.

All the more reason to look forward to that takeoff from Guam. Except, when she left, she would say goodbye to the aloof professor.

Her sweaty palms stuck to the pictures.

Bronco jabbed a beefy finger toward an image of an infant wearing a sunbonnet by the ocean. "That's Tara taking her first swim."