Chapter 31
Trisha was right, they were an hour behind before they even started; even with the improvements since the Chinook F variant, it still took a great deal of work to prep one for transport.
Abby shadowed her crew chief Sam as they worked on Charlene One, handing him tools or lending a hand as needed to speed him along.
Pulling the Chinook’s six thirty-foot-long rotor blades required care and a skilled forklift operator as each weighed three hundred and fifty pounds.
Removing the two rotor heads that raised the blades well above the fuselage was a much bigger task.
Even the monster FRED couldn’t swallow a Chinook with the rotor heads still mounted—seventeen feet of helicopter height didn’t come close to slipping into a thirteen-and-a-half-foot-high cargo bay.
Helping out kept her mechanical skills at least somewhat current.
Most crew chiefs wouldn’t trust a pilot to hold a flashlight on their birds, but Abby had fixed plenty of lobster pot hoists, bilge pumps, and boat engines over the years.
Under Sam’s watchful eye, she at least felt useful.
Charlie Two and Four were going through the same dance, but without their pilots pitching in beyond the simplest steps.
It also gave her a good excuse for avoiding Derek.
Once he and his teams showed up at the loading site, he’d tried to approach her several times.
Sam, reading the situation easily, brushed him away twice, then almost dropped a rotor blade on his head (purely accidentally, of course). Derek finally got the message.
The dodge and avoidance routine wasn’t going to work if they were flying on a mission together, but it sufficed for the moment.
Trisha strolled through the orchestrated mayhem just like the old hand she was. Abby would bet good money on Trisha’s unpleasant reaction to an old tag in any form, so she swore to keep that to herself.
“So, Mr. D-boy put himself in the doghouse.”
She left Abby time for half a nod.
“You have the duration of this teardown and loading cycle to fix it.”
Abby could only gawk at her.
“The C-5 will be here in an hour. Emily’s plane lands about two hours after that, just as we finish loading these birds. I don’t want your shit in her lap. She’s got enough of her own going on. Clear?”
“Uh, clear, ma’am.” Abby saluted because she figured it was better than punching a superior officer in the nose for pushing it into the wreckage that so often defined Abby’s personal life.
Then Trisha offered a rare, non-evil smile.
“It probably doesn’t sound like it, but trust me, I’m doing you a favor.
Billy and me? Holy fuck we were such a mess.
We wasted weeks, months—I’ve blocked it out of all memory.
” She waved her hand like a windshield wiper in front of her face.
“Nearly got my fine ass thrown out of the regiment as part of it—as if that wouldn’t have been a Shakespearean tragedy of sufficiently grand proportions.
And ixnay on comments about any grandness of my ass, I already know it’s awesome. Go fix this—now!” Then she walked away.
Abby looked at Sam, who remained very focused on the driveshaft he was disconnecting. She looked at Trisha’s retreating ass and considered tossing out a few uncouth observations anyway—ones that would be sure to put her on disciplinary action.
“Could you hand me the thirty?” Sam asked as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
She picked up the arm-long thirty-millimeter wrench and contemplated how best to apply its hefty weight to Derek. Instead, she handed it off to Sam. “I’ve gotta go deal with a rabid piece of shit.”
Sam nodded, then whispered. “I liked the guy, but give him hell, sister.”
“Yeah, I liked him too—and I will.”