His Woman in Command. Lindsay McKenna
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cold Afghan winter. The helicopter vibrated heavily around Nike as she flew the bulky transport through the valley. Shoving the throttles once more to the firewall, she urged the helo up and over another mountain range and down into the next valley. And, as she glanced out her cockpit window, it was comforting to see an Apache helicopter with her women friends from BJS 60 flying several thousand feet above her, working their avionics to find the enemy below before they shot her Chinook out of the air. She might not have a copilot, but she had the baddest son-of-a-bitch of a combat helicopter shadowing her flight today. That made Nike smile and feel confident.
The village of Zor Barawul contained two hundred people and sat at the north end of a long, narrow valley that was sandwiched between the mountains. On the other side lay the border of Pakistan. As in all villages Nike had seen, the wealthy families had houses made of stone with wooden floors. Wood was usually scarce. Those less welloff had homes made of earth and mud with hard-packed dirt floors. Some who could afford it would have a few rugs over the earthen floor. Roofs were made from tin or other lightweight metals. The poorer families had thatched material on top.
As they passed over all kinds of homes, Nike felt the sweat beneath her armpits. Fear was always near since at any moment, they could be fired on. As she located the landing area, she ordered her load master to bring up the ramp. Moments later, she heard the grind and rumble of the ramp shutting. The ramp had to be up in order for her to land.
Nike brought the Chinook downward and gently landed it outside the village. The earth was bare and muddy. Nike let out a sigh of relief. They were down and had made it without incident. She powered down, shut off the engines and called to her friends in the Apache flying in large circles outside the village. This was Taliban-controlled territory and the Apache was using its television and infrared cameras to spot any possible enemy who might want to shoot at the Chinook after it had landed.
The whine of the engines ceased. The women in the Apache reported no activity and continued to circle about a mile from where she’d landed. Nike thanked them and signed off on the radio. The Apache would wait and escort her back to base as soon as everything was unloaded. Unstrapping the tight harness, she pulled the helmet off her head and stood. Andy had removed the fifty-caliber machine gun and set it to one side. He opened the ramp and it groaned down. Once the ramp lip rested on the muddy ground, Andy signaled the A team to dismount.
As she glanced to her left, Nike caught sight of Gavin. This time, he was grim-faced and not smiling. Right. He understood this was a very dangerous place. No one knew for sure how the villagers would respond to their landing. Bullets or butter? For a moment, Nike felt a twinge in her heart. Jackson looked so damned responsible and alert. This wasn’t his first dance with the Afghan people. She saw the grimness reflected in the flat line of his mouth as he gathered his gear and slung it across his shoulder.
His other team members were already moving down the ramp. Several took the cargo netting off the many boxes and prepared to move them outside the helo. What were the people of this village thinking of their arrival? Were they scared? Thinking that the U.S. Army was going to attack them the way the Taliban did? When the Russians had invaded Afghanistan a decade before, that’s exactly what they had done. People here justifiably had a long memory and would probably not trust the Americans, either.
“Hey, do these people know you’re coming?” Nike called to Jackson.
“Yeah, we sent an emissary in here a week ago.”
“So, they know you’re on a mission of peace?”
He took the safety off his weapon and then slung it across his other shoulder. “That’s right. It doesn’t guarantee anything.”
Worriedly, Nike looked out the end of the Chinook. She saw several bearded older men in turbans or fur hats walking toward them. “Well, they don’t look real happy to see us.”
Gavin glanced out the rear of the helo. “Oh. Those are the elders. They run the village. Don’t worry, they always look that way. Survival is serious business out here.”
“They’re carrying rifles.”
“They sleep with them.”
Smiling a little over the comment, Nike walked down the ramp and stood next to him. “Do you ever not have a joke, Captain?”
Gavin grinned over at her. Nike’s hair lay against her brow, emphasizing her gold eyes. He heard the worry in her voice and reached out to squeeze her upper arm. “You care….”
Nike didn’t pull away from where his hand rested on her arm. There was monitored strength to his touch and her flesh leaped wildly in response. Seconds later, his hand dropped away. “Oh, don’t let it go to your swelled head, honcho.”
“Hey, I like that nickname.”
“It’s wasn’t a compliment.”
Gavin chuckled. “I’ll take it as such.”
“Ever the optimist.”
“I don’t like the other choice, do you? Thanks for the wild ride, Captain.” He gave her a salute and smiled. “How about a date when we get back off this mission?”
“That’s not a good idea.” Nike saw the regret in his deep blue eyes.
“Okay, I’ll stop chasing you for now.” Looking out the rear of the helo, Gavin said, “I’ll be seeing you around, lioness.”
She felt and heard the huskiness of his voice as he spoke the word. Lioness. Well, that was a nice compliment. Unexpected. Sweet. And her heart thumped in reaction. She hated to admit it but she really did care. But before she could open her mouth, he turned and walked nonchalantly down the ramp and into the dangerous world of the Taliban-controlled village.
Suddenly, Nike was afraid for Gavin and his team. The ten elders approached in their woolen cloaks, pants and fur hats to ward off the morning coldness. They looked unwelcoming and grim.
Well, it wasn’t as if she could help him and she had to get back to base. A part of her didn’t want to leave Gavin. Nike looked up and saw the Apache continuing its slow circuit at about three thousand feet. Time to move. Grabbing her helmet, she gave Andy a gesture that told him to lift up the ramp. He nodded. As soon as they were airborne, he’d lower the ramp once more and keep watch with his hands on that machine gun.
Settling into her seat, Nike pulled on her helmet, plugged it back in and made contact with the Apache once more.
“Time to boogie outta here, Red Fox One. Over.”
“Roger, Checkerboard One. All quiet on the western front here.”
Nike chuckled and twisted around. The ramp ground upward and locked against the bird, causing the whole helo to shudder. Andy gave her a thumbs-up and put on his helmet. All was well. Turning around, Nike began to flip switches and twist buttons. As soon as she was ready to turn on the engines, one at a time, she’d get harnessed up for the harrowing one-hundred-foot-high flight back to base. It wasn’t something Nike looked forward to.
And then, her world came to an abrupt halt. A glaring red light began to blink back at her on the console—the forward engine light. Scowling, she flipped it off and on. Red. Damn. That meant either a problem with the engine or a screw-up with the light itself. Nike could do nothing at this point.
“Red Fox One, I have a red light for the forward engine. I can’t go anywhere. Can you contact base to get a helo out here with a couple of mechanics? Until then, I’m grounded. I’ll radio Operations and get further instructions from them. Over.”
“Bad news, Checkerboard One. Stay safe down there. Out.”
Well, it didn’t take long for Nike to get her answers. Major Dallas Klein, who was in ops, answered her.
“Stay where you are. We can’t get a mechanic team out until tomorrow morning. Stick with Captain Jackson and his team. Your load master will remain with the helicopter. In the meantime, go with the A team. We’ll be in touch by radio when we know the time of arrival to your location.