, let’s welcome Ensign Duncan.”
“HELLO, FUNG!” the pilots boomed.
Shane flinched from the blast. “Thank you, sir!” She said smiling, feeling the blush of embarrassment that covered her face. For a moment after Wilson took his seat and the floor was hers, she froze. Knowing that all eyes were on her, she took a deep breath, picked up the projector remote, and brought up her first slide.
* * *
Three rows back, Trench and his sidekick Coach indeed had their eyes on Ensign Duncan, now known throughout the wing as Wonder Woman.
As Shane delivered her briefing and pointed to various positions on the chart of the western Caribbean, her figure a distraction even in her regulation khaki uniform. The two pilots were watching, but weren’t listening, to her presentation.
“Mmm-mmm” Trench sighed as Shane pointed high to show a divert field in Jamaica.
“Roger that,” Coach responded in a tone only Trench could hear. As she continued with the exercise slides, Shane briefed the ready room with increased confidence.
“The Colombians will be flying C-10 and C-12 Kfirs from Barranquilla here on the coast. These are rebuilt Israeli aircraft obtained in 2009, and they are Mach 2 capable, used mostly for strike missions, have an internal gun and the forward-quarter Python missile. Good thrust-to-weight, not much of a turn rate, but they do have canards for enhanced slow-speed handling, and a glass cockpit. The pilots are fairly well trained in air-to-air and fly their aircraft to the limit. Typically, they fly in pairs, and we can expect them to operate under strict ground control.”
As they feigned attention, Trench and Coach were not thinking about strict ground control.
“You’ll be conducting mock attacks against the mainland, and Kfirs of the Fuerza Aérea Colombiana, or FAC, will be intercepting you off the coast.”
As Shane spoke, Macho surveyed the pilots as they watched her. The heavies up front, adults like Skipper Wilson, gave her the professional attention she deserved. It was plain to see, however, that back in the cheap seats Trench and Coach and probably the others were undressing her with their eyes. She had set Shane up in St. Thomas: Sure, meet the guys by the pool in a swimsuit. We do it all the time. Play grab-ass volleyball with them in the water. And Wonder Woman had played it perfectly, enthralled by the pilots’ attention, gushing like a schoolgirl, the naïve and delicate princess whispering to Macho at night in their bunks about how cute Trench was. Yes, Shane was the perfect bait to catch Trench and his bastard side-kick, Coach. They were