Read Online Joint Task Force #1: Liberia by David E. Meadows - Free Book Online
Authors: David E. Meadows
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Dunning asked.
“You don’t think the aviation community is going to sit by and watch their piloted aircraft be replaced— even a little —by a bunch of amateurs who never leave a ship or a building and who can eat a sandwich while they engage in a dogfight?” Valverde added. “Man, oh, man, Doc. I am glad I’m not going to be at the Pentagon when the results of this reaches the inner ring, top floor, third door, second office.”
“Doc, don’t listen to Alan,” Pauline said, pulling thescientist around by his shoulder to face her. “He’s just trying to upset you. Here’s what I’d do if I was you. I would get the hell off this ship ASAP. I would fly directly to Washington. I would show all the positive sides of what we’ve done today. Even point out the crash as an example of how this UFAV program will save lives.”
“Pauline’s right, Doc. Why, at one point I was pulling over ten Gs. Tell me what pilot can do that and not lose consciousness? I’ll tell you. None,” Shoemaker said, jumping on the bandwagon. “You’ve got a great success story to tell. Of course, we’re all stuck out here and they’ll have first chance at telling that story at second door . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked at Valverde.
“. . . second office, inner ring, top floor, third door,” Valverde finished.
Shoemaker leaned back against the cockpit. A wave of fatigue rushed over him. He had to go to the head before he peed his pants.
“You may be right,” Dr. Dunning said, reaching up and stroking his chin before walking back to the master console. Shoemaker shook his head. To some, it would seem shameful the way they played his vanity. Pauline winked at Shoemaker, her blue eyes sparkling. He had never met a woman quite like this redhead. Beneath her cajoling, humorous, snide comments, and bravado was a temper that could rip your lips off and stuff them up your butt.
Pauline cocked her head at him. He must have been staring.
She took a step forward, briefly wrapped her arms around Shoemaker’s shoulders, and grinned. “I’m not even going to ask what you were thinking.” She stepped back, blew on her fingers, and brushed them against her chest. “Most men have those thoughts every six seconds. With me around, I am sure the time is reduced.”
He would have said something back, but he was just too tired. He grinned and hoped he didn’t stumble when he started away from the cockpit.
“Yes, I agree,” Alan said to Pauline. “But that reduced time is from fear.”
“Someday JAG will make an episode about this,” Kitchner said, chuckling.
“I’ve got to get my data together,” Dunning said as he started to pull himself up the short ladder to the mother console. “You are right. The sooner I get the data read, consolidated, and analyzed, the sooner I can present my findings.”
Pauline shook her head and shouted, “Going to be hard to do, Doc! Right now, I bet those fighter jocks at Oceana are already on the ground, running toward the ready room, knocking each other out of the way to be the first to call the Pentagon.” She put her hands on her hips, leaned her head down, and shook it several more times. “No, I think we may be dead on arrival on this one, Doc. You’ll never get us off in time. We’re stuck out here while they’re with reporters from all the major news agencies. We’re going to be fighting an uphill battle unless you get us off this floating bathtub and back to Washington.”
Dunning stared at her for a moment, and then started nodding. “You’re right. You’re goddamn right! I have to get off here and get back there now. Right now! I can do the data reduction at Pax River Naval Air Station tonight and by tomorrow be at the Pentagon.”
“Right, Doc! Now you’re thinking. This is a good news story. Your face is going to be plastered all over the newspapers. So, how long do you think we have before we can fly off here?” Pauline asked, her smile disappearing
“You don’t think the aviation community is going to sit by and watch their piloted aircraft be replaced— even a little —by a bunch of amateurs who never leave a ship or a building and who can eat a sandwich while they engage in a dogfight?” Valverde added. “Man, oh, man, Doc. I am glad I’m not going to be at the Pentagon when the results of this reaches the inner ring, top floor, third door, second office.”
“Doc, don’t listen to Alan,” Pauline said, pulling thescientist around by his shoulder to face her. “He’s just trying to upset you. Here’s what I’d do if I was you. I would get the hell off this ship ASAP. I would fly directly to Washington. I would show all the positive sides of what we’ve done today. Even point out the crash as an example of how this UFAV program will save lives.”
“Pauline’s right, Doc. Why, at one point I was pulling over ten Gs. Tell me what pilot can do that and not lose consciousness? I’ll tell you. None,” Shoemaker said, jumping on the bandwagon. “You’ve got a great success story to tell. Of course, we’re all stuck out here and they’ll have first chance at telling that story at second door . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked at Valverde.
“. . . second office, inner ring, top floor, third door,” Valverde finished.
Shoemaker leaned back against the cockpit. A wave of fatigue rushed over him. He had to go to the head before he peed his pants.
“You may be right,” Dr. Dunning said, reaching up and stroking his chin before walking back to the master console. Shoemaker shook his head. To some, it would seem shameful the way they played his vanity. Pauline winked at Shoemaker, her blue eyes sparkling. He had never met a woman quite like this redhead. Beneath her cajoling, humorous, snide comments, and bravado was a temper that could rip your lips off and stuff them up your butt.
Pauline cocked her head at him. He must have been staring.
She took a step forward, briefly wrapped her arms around Shoemaker’s shoulders, and grinned. “I’m not even going to ask what you were thinking.” She stepped back, blew on her fingers, and brushed them against her chest. “Most men have those thoughts every six seconds. With me around, I am sure the time is reduced.”
He would have said something back, but he was just too tired. He grinned and hoped he didn’t stumble when he started away from the cockpit.
“Yes, I agree,” Alan said to Pauline. “But that reduced time is from fear.”
“Someday JAG will make an episode about this,” Kitchner said, chuckling.
“I’ve got to get my data together,” Dunning said as he started to pull himself up the short ladder to the mother console. “You are right. The sooner I get the data read, consolidated, and analyzed, the sooner I can present my findings.”
Pauline shook her head and shouted, “Going to be hard to do, Doc! Right now, I bet those fighter jocks at Oceana are already on the ground, running toward the ready room, knocking each other out of the way to be the first to call the Pentagon.” She put her hands on her hips, leaned her head down, and shook it several more times. “No, I think we may be dead on arrival on this one, Doc. You’ll never get us off in time. We’re stuck out here while they’re with reporters from all the major news agencies. We’re going to be fighting an uphill battle unless you get us off this floating bathtub and back to Washington.”
Dunning stared at her for a moment, and then started nodding. “You’re right. You’re goddamn right! I have to get off here and get back there now. Right now! I can do the data reduction at Pax River Naval Air Station tonight and by tomorrow be at the Pentagon.”
“Right, Doc! Now you’re thinking. This is a good news story. Your face is going to be plastered all over the newspapers. So, how long do you think we have before we can fly off here?” Pauline asked, her smile disappearing
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