In the Blink of an Eye

by Mark Dutkiewicz

  “Johnson,” she said curtly as they danced around one another, “what’s the meaning of this?”

  “No time to explain Commander.”

  Emily giggled as Kami yelled, “Johnson!” at the closing doors. “Johnson you get your ass back here or so help me I’ll shove my foot so far up it you’ll think you’re a first year cadet!”

  Slowly approaching her friend Emily tried to straighten her face. Kami was directing a heated glare at the elevator door now. White knuckled fists trembling at her sides, she shot a look right towards Emily as she approached.

  “What the hell was that all about?” she grated.

  “Beats me, said he was looking for Jeff.”

  “Captain Williams must have delivered the bad news,” she almost cackled the words.

  “Bad news?” Emily asked a touch worried.

  “Nothing important,” Kami deflected. “I’ll just be happy to have them out of my hair for a while.”

  Kami turned and began stalking down the hall so quickly Emily had to jog a moment to catch up. “Out of your hair? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m sending Lieutenant Commander Grant on a recon mission to Gliese Eight Seven Six C.”

  “That’s in the middle of nowhere,” Emily said confused, “What could possibly be happening out there?”

  “Nothing,” Kami purred, “and that’s the beauty of it. It’ll give me a week of peace and quiet here without Grant getting up to something. Based on that little dance we just had Johnson’s blessedly involved as well. When one of those two is acting strange, the other is invariably involved.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on those two. I mean. They’re really no different than any of the other pilots.”

  “They’re exceptionally different,” Kami bit.

  “How so?” Emily pushed, “They’re all kind of crude. Have you ever spent time in the pilots lounge with them?”

  “I have more pressing issues that require my attention than babysitting Lieutenant Commander Grant and his posse of juvenile trouble makers.”

  “They’re really not so bad Kami. Sure they’re rough, but they also risk a lot going out there.”

  “We all risk a lot in this business,” Kami countered. “It’s not an excuse for lax discipline.”

  “You and your discipline. Every last one of them is perfectly professional when the situation demands it. Jeff and Curtis included.”

  “Well,” Kami sighed, “I guess Johnson’s not so bad. But Grant,” a sound of vexation massaged her throat. “I know pilots tend to be brash or incorrigible, his father was a little rough around the edges too. But that man takes things too far.”

  “You got to admit he’s cute though,” Emily quipped trying to sooth her. It didn’t work.

  “Faugh!” Kami snorted, “His looks are no reason for him to be insubordinate. And the legacy of his father doesn’t give him free reign to act like a child.”

  With a slight laugh, Emily joked with a smile, “I think you like him.”

  “The only thing to like about Lieutenant Commander Grant is his ability to get the job done.”

  “Come on Kami, you’re nowhere near this hard on anybody else. He pushes your buttons at every turn trying to goad you one way or another. I think you like the fact he challenges you. You just haven’t figured out how to deal with it.”

  “I know exactly how to deal with it. His prowess as a pilot is exceptional to say the least so I don’t want to lose that part. But Styles has a soft spot for him due to his old man. If I had my way, he’d only be let out of the brig when we needed him out there.”

  “Okay, I was wrong,” Emily couldn’t help herself, and maybe pushed too far when she added, “You’re in love with that brash fighter jock.”

  Kami stopped so suddenly Emily had to turn around. “That’s not funny Emily.” Her tone carried a threatening sound, along with what Emily could only describe as a measure of pain. “And I don’t appreciate you saying things like that.”

  She stormed off down the hall leaving Emily to quietly say, “I’m sorry.”

  ***

  “Jeff, I’m you’re wing man,” the tone of Curtis’ voice spoke volumes of his irritation.

  “You’ve never been my wing man Curtis. As I recall you were Beta Flight leader when I came onboard.”

  “You know what I mean. I’ve always been there for you. Watching your back in the academy and especially when we’re thrown into that meat grinder out there. You owe me the right to stay by your side. Bringing Teak on this mission is a slap in the face.”

  “It’s done Curtis, let it go. I already cleared it by Jazz. In fact, he said, ‘Take whomever you damn well please. I just assumed you’d bring Spanky as you seem near inseparable.’ ”

  “See there? Even Jazz thinks I should go!”

  “That’s not what he meant and you know it. Let it go for Christ sake. Teak’s a very capable pilot and you’re next senior so I’d rather leave you in charge.”

  “That’s not the point!” Curtis protested. “We’re a team, and as a team we’re supposed to stick together. Why don’t you leave Gunsmoke in charge?”

  “Seriously Curtis? Gunsmoke? He’s likely to lead the squad the same way he leads his flight.”

  “That’s right, he has command experience.”

  “Please. His method of command is to get on the radio and say, ‘Go get ’em!’ ”

  “It’ll be good for him. Besides, it’s been so quiet even Mako could take command for a week or two.”

  “So that’s it? You’re bored?” Jeff replied stopping in front of the landing bay hatch.

  “I didn’t say I was bored.”

  “Then what do you mean?” Jeff pressed. “Look, you’re my best friend. But you’re also second in command of the Jackets. Your place is here, I’m taking Teak.”

  “But Jeff—”

  “Spanky,” Jeff cut him off, “this is not open to debate.” Curtis opened his mouth to protest once more when Jeff announced firmly, “That’s an order.”

  “Fine,” Curtis snapped. Turning, he all but punched the activation switch by the hatch.

  “Curtis,” Jeff said as the hatch whirred open allowing the sound of raucous laughter to waft from the bay. “Take care of yourself. I know it’s been quiet. Too quiet for my tastes. Those toads were up to something yesterday; I can feel it. I’d just be more comfortable with you back here making sure shit doesn’t fall apart.”

  “Right,” the large man said sullenly.

  Jeff grabbed his arm warmly above the elbow. “Think of it this way. I’m going to be stuck with a boatload of jarheads strutting around like they own the place. I can almost guarantee you’ll see more excitement.”

  “Ha!” Curtis blurted out. His humor seemed to be returning. “You’ll be mouthing off to them inside ten minutes. And who’s going to watch your back when the bullet sponges take offense?” the laughter wafting from the bay seemed to respond to that question.

  “Teak will step up,” Jeff reassured, “Little man syndrome remember?”

  “He is feisty that one,” Curtis conceded. “And I’ve still got TAT to keep me company.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Jeff slapped the big guys arm. “Now get in there. Sounds like the guys are giving Sparkplug a good razing.”

  Cracking his knuckles with a grin Curtis announced, “Can’t let them have all the fun.”

  “Give them hell buddy,” Jeff encouraged.

  Curtis then pulled Jeff into one of his vice like bear hugs telling him to take care of himself before trotting into the landing bay. Jeff loitered a moment watching his friend and smiled when his voice bellowed across the hold joining the spirited discussion before the hatch cut off the scene.

  ***

  “You piece of shit, work damn you!” Sparkplug griped at his diagnostic terminal. Grumbling under his breath about the tight fit of the razor’s cockpit, he kicked the bottom of the ships control panel. When the screen flickered to life
he grated, “About Goddamned time.” Climbing up on the seat he pulled the control panel forward to examine the wiring. Grabbing the probe attached to his terminal he began poking around the maze of wires before him muttering under his breath about the piss poor shape the craft was in. The consoles power winked out once more prompting the mechanic the curse under his breath. Dropping the probe, he produced a pair of tweezers from his tool belt. It didn’t take long for him to find the problem, and the sharp jolt he received for his efforts not only brought with it a yelp of pain but also a good sized knot on his head after cracking it against the canopy. To add insult to injury, a roar of laughter erupting from the gaggle of pilots lounging in the bay was all the consolation he got.

  “Careful there Sparkplug,” called Alan in his unmistakable nasally voice, “you might fry your brain.”

  “Damn fly boys,” Sparkplug grumbled rubbing the back of his head. Climbing out of the cockpit he dropped to the deck turning a glare and marching on his audience. “You ass-hats do realize that if it weren’t for me you couldn’t get these crates out of the launch tubes,” he hollered over the ruckus.

  “Out of the tubes?” Alan fired back with a laugh. “I have a harder time sticking a landing!”

  “That’s another thing,” Sparkplug challenged, “Every day I listen to you bitch about how they handle. How many times have I had to straighten out your skids? Maybe you should learn how to stick a landing before blaming my plane.”

  “Amen sugar,” Alison teased in her sultry voice. Leaning forward she looked to be trying to show off her cleavage. Giving a shake of her curly mop she looked at the back of Alan’s head adding, “Small fry talks a big game. But I’ve never seen him back it up.”

  Alan spun on her, but whatever he had to say was drowned out by Sparkplugs own retort, “Don’t try and sass your way into my good graces Mako! Last time you came in I was surprised that plane didn’t fall apart when it hit the deck. Look at that piece of shit back there!” he turned pointing out her razor. “If it weren’t for all the scorch marks I wouldn’t know who flies the damn thing! Can’t see the flight number, can’t see the squad number, shit, I can’t even see your handle on that wreck!”

  “You boys picking on Sparky again?” Curtis bellowed trotting up to the gathering, “Or is he picking on you for a change?”

  “For the last time Spanky, I ain’t your Goddamn dog!” Pulling off his goggles Sparkplug slammed them into the deck narrowing his eyes as at Curtis. The action only seemed to goad on gathered pilots, their laughter growing louder. “Ass hats,” he grumbled.

  “Okay boys, you’ve had enough fun at Sparky’s expense,” Curtis chastised. “Teak,” he said turning to Alan, “Knight wants you in the ready room.”

  “What did I do?” Alan protested.

  “Where should we start?” Alison quipped goading the man on.

  Curtis was quick to stop the impending tussle, “Nothing Teak. He has an assignment. Now move it.”

  Alan turned to face Curtis. Fists at his sides he looked up at the imposing lieutenant. “Aye Sir,” he answered in a clipped tone. Tossing a glare over his shoulder for Alison he trotted off.

  When Curtis finally turned his attention back to him, Sparkplug recognized the gleam in his eye. “Awe shit!” he grated, “I know that look. And I know damn well I’m not going to like what you have to say!”

  That shit eating grin the pilot seemed to save solely for him decorated Curtis’ face. “Nothing to be afraid of Sparky. Just that you’ll be dealing with me a lot more than usual for a while.”

  CHAPTER 16:

  INTO THE ABYSS

  “I still don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Alan’s voice chirped from the radio. “Babysitting a boatload of jarheads isn’t what I call an assignment. More like punishment.”

  “Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die,” Jeff answered the man.

  “Damn waste of time. Flying off to some rock at the ass end of the quadrant to watch some roughnecks check in on a whole lot of nothing.”

  “Hold that thought Teak,” Jeff said. Twisting the stick of his fighter he angled the craft to enter the flight pattern around Pegasus. “Pegasus tower, Knight on approach starboard tunnel, vector one one point zero six, one trailer,” he called into the mic.

  “Copy Knight, we have you. Come about zero three point zero three z-minus twenty-two hundred meters.”

  “Roger.” Signaling Alan, Jeff deftly positioned the craft into the landing pattern. “Look at it this way,” he continued their previous conversation, “If we’re out there, and TATs back here, she won’t be busting our balls.”

  The comment garnered a laugh. “The only balls she’s interesting in busting are yours Knight.”

  “Amen to that,” Jeff thought aloud, pressing the transmit button he added, “Well, she’s Spanky’s problem now.”

  “Yeah, or Spanky’s her problem,” Alan joked back.

  “You have some strange radio discipline for a squad leader from Victoria Knight,” one of Pegasus’ flight controllers sniped on the channel. “Be advised chatter is recorded. And seeing as Victoria is flagship of the flotilla it will very well be screened by your immediate superior.”

  “Appreciate the lecture on SOP Pegasus. Now about our approach vector?”

  What could only be described as a chuckle answered him for a moment and Jeff could have sworn he heard someone mention his reputation preceding him. “Knight, pattern is clear, call the ball.”

  ***

  “Well, he looks like a friendly guy,” Alan said joining Jeff on Pegasus’ flight deck, “I like that scar digging into his cheek, gives him a good menacing quality. I’m a big bad marine here coming to eat ya.”

  Jeff turned to put an eye on what Alan was looking at. From the far side of the hanger two marines were marching across the deck leaving behind a gaggle of their compatriots to lounge near some ammunition containers. The one Alan had pointed out was very large and very bald. He moved with a sense of purpose and a gait that demanded anything in his way to move. A step behind him a dark stocky fellow trailed, an adjutant, or maybe the second in the large man’s platoon.

  “Wonder where he got that beauty mark?” Alan continued, “Not like there’s been any action for ground pounders. None that lived to tell about it anyway.”

  “Maybe he cut himself shaving,” Jeff joked.

  “Shaving with what? A machete?”

  “Careful Teak, we don’t want to get in a boxing match our first day.”

  Crossing his arms Alan made a show of looking the man up and down. “Pft,” he spat in derision, “he doesn’t scare me. Remember what marine stands for. Muscles are required, intelligence not essential.”

  “They’ve got their part to play same as us,” Jeff said with a smile. “Only their job is a bit less pleasant.”

  “Less pleasant my ass,” Alan scoffed, “All they do is take up space and get in the way.”

  “You forgot the part about killing babies,” Jeff added sarcastically referencing what he thought to be ridiculous stories of the corps’ past. The swipe seemed to shut Alan up. The little man did no more than huff once and remained silent as the two marines covered the final few meters.

  Stopping rigidly to stand before them, the bald man stood stiffly and almost growled, “Lieutenant Commander Grant,” in a rough voice. He appeared to speak out of the side of his mouth, the large scar pulling the other corner up in a sneer. “I’m Captain Butler, first platoon commander of Echo Company, fourth Division.” Gesturing to the dark stocky man he added, “This man is Gunnery Sergeant Pierce. I’m told you’ll be assisting on this operation.”

  “Pleasure to meet you Captain,” Jeff returned, “and you’re correct. Lieutenant Jacobs and I are to provide air cover during the insertion.”

  “If I may be so bold Lieutenant Commander,” the captain informed Jeff more than asked, “But could you tell me why Styles found it necessary to send us a pair of navy hot shots on this drop?” Butler w
as plainly the corps through and through. Stiff, stern, and formal and a good taste of the rivalry the navy and marine corps enjoyed, or suffered you could say, dripped from his voice as he continued, “The Pegasus has a combat ready marine strike unit that’s more than capable of handling this operation.”

  “As I understand it Captain, the Pegasus recently underwent a crew rotation. I was informed that the majority of the ships staff was, shall we say, a little lacking in experience. My superiors felt some seasoned wings should accompany the party.”

  The captain grunted a loud harrumph. It was echoed by the stocky sergeant in a scratchy southern drawl, “Bunch of offica hear tell, beggin the Capn’s pardon. The Gus is ready for anythin and this here platoon is the best she’s got.”

  “That may be Sergeant,” Jeff let the slight roll off, “but we have our orders. Believe me I think there are more important things to be doing than babysitting a landing party.”

  “Is that what you think of this?” Butler seethed and actually seemed to stretch himself taller. “I assure you, Lieutenant Commander, the first platoon is no baby to be sat.”

  “More like sat on,” Alan muttered.

  “You have something to share Lieutenant?” Butler turned his gaze on Alan.

  Jeff jumped in cutting off his subordinate, “I’m sure the lieutenant is as frustrated as you are Captain,” he defended Alan. “And I assure you I meant no offense by my earlier statement.” Squaring his shoulders, he narrowed his eyes and stared challengingly up at the looming mountain of a man. Alan cracked his knuckles backing him up. “But if you want things to get personal, we’re happy to oblige.” The contest lasted a brief moment, a very tense brief moment.

  Butler barked a laugh. “It’s not my style to stomp little sailors,” he said mirthfully, “Especially ones with balls bigger than my corpsman, even if she’s a little taller.” Slapping Jeff on the shoulder he commended, “You boys should have been marines.”

  ***

  “Hey Emerson,” a young pretty average looking private said jabbing an elbow into the man sitting next to him, “looks like we got a couple of new squids on the Gus.” Rubbing the spray of whiskers on his chin he audibly mused, “What do you think’s up with that?”