with a quizzical look.
“What did you get, Paddles?” Wilson asked Smoke, instantly wishing he hadn’t. Pausing for effect, the LSO suppressed a grin. “OK three, sir.”
“SEE!” Psycho exploded, her food barely staying in her mouth. “It’s good-old-boy collusion out there!”
Wilson saw the Skipper and Olive duck into the room carrying plates of food. It was an hour and ten minutes before their launch, just enough time to eat a rushed meal before man-up. Lassiter found a few spots at the table and placed his tray across from Wilson.
“Hey, Skipper.”
“Flip,” Lassiter greeted him over a WHOOOMMMmmm from above — the sound of another Hornet on a bolter.
“What’s the story on your event, sir?” Weed asked him.
Lassiter exhaled. “Nothing yet, we’ll walk on time. My guess is they will make a decision in the next hour. CAG is recovering on this event.”
Weed grinned. “Maybe that was him going around.”
“Hope not,” Lassiter said and smiled.
“I’m sure Paddles will no-count it for a pitching deck,” Psycho chimed in, as she shot Smoke a look.
“As they should,” Smoke retorted with a confident grin. “Paddles always does the right thing.” Psycho responded to that with her most feminine sniff.
Wilson watched the exchange and figured there might be something going on between Smoke and Psycho. Lassiter shoveled another spoonful of rice into his mouth. He kept his eyes down, as if lost in concentration about his upcoming flight, and acted oblivious to the flirting between his junior officers. Wilson knew, however, the skipper was paying attention and was probably on to them.
“Smoke” was the call sign of Lieutenant Zach Offenhausen, a blond pretty boy of supreme confidence who, in fact, was a California surfer and had been a motocross champion in his teen years. Now a second-cruise JO, he aspired to TOPGUN training once the deployment ended. Both Smoke and Psycho — despite the fact that she never shut up in social situations — were good officers and solid pilots. Fraternization was one way to destroy that good standing. Here they were, attractive young single adults, working and eating together day after day for months — and, from what it looked like, maybe even sleeping together.
Wilson got up from the table and said, “Excuse me, sir,” to the CO. Weed did the same, followed by Smoke and Psycho. Lassiter waved and nodded and swallowed a final mouthful. He and Olive picked up their trays, took them to deposit in the scullery, and hurried back to the ready room. They wanted to walk on time.
