by Laer Carroll
Another part of the plan was the counseling on the second day which Jane and the other cadets had gone through. Those wavering about quitting were urged to stay in. However, they were also told that the fact that they had been accepted into the Academy meant that they could very likely also get into the most prestigious universities. They had passed more stringent tests than any of those universities required.
A good many did drop out. The harassment continued though at a slightly lower level. More cadets dropped out the next few days until the numbers staying leveled off, as did the harassment. It never went away though it seemed to. For the cadets were developing immunity to it so they could perform in combat when the stress would never stop.
The cadets took classes in the next couple of weeks which eased them into the military mindset and gave them tools to succeed in it. For instance, they learned to march and do it well. Not a few grew to feel pride over that ability. It made them WARRIORS, no longer mere hapless civilians in any emergency.
There was much academic testing and consultation with the cadets. They had to pass a rigorous set of courses: math, the sciences, economics and clear speech and reading and basic abilities to express themselves visually and understand visuals and much more. But if they could pass tests that proved they could they didn't have to sit in classes. There was too much modern military personnel needed to know to waste their time sitting learning nothing.
Jane quickly was identified as a jewel of learning. She had actually TAUGHT math to Nobel Prize winners and argued with Fields Prize winners, the Nobel of the math world. It was commonly said that she was developing, purely as a hobby, some mathematical scheme that would revolutionize human thought. The mathematicians especially were susceptible to this fantasy.
They were quickly disappointed. For Jane's math concerns were practical and sympathetic. In her rare free time she would amble through a barracks and find someone puzzling over a math problem. She would pause, idly look at the student's notes, and ask a question. Very often the student would frown, perhaps turn their notes sideways or upside down. Revelation would transform their faces. They would see the quirk or wrongly learned fact which had their minds in a Judo hold. They would turn to her to thank her to find her ambling further away.
Some of the toughest seniors suddenly began to ignore Jane when they saw her coming.
The scientist faculty members were not quite as awed. They were awed enough, however. Jane quietly poked holes in physicist's theories then showed them a solid dependable wall in another theory. Chemists had a similar experience, and biologist swore she could read a DNA sequence and point out unseen possibilities and perils as if she saw them.
None let any of the cadets know their thoughts about Jane.
She was not a prodigy in all her studies. She had to work at social studies and organizational theory and economics and social psychology and military history and the like just as everyone else did.
The Humanities Department gave her credit for basic written and spoken fluency in Spanish, Russian, and Mandarin Chinese--the official language of Communist China.
The Academy had no musical department, but its faculty and staff and their families and students enjoyed music and dancing as much as anyone. Jane was an expert salsa and swing dancer and much in demand after the first few months and social barriers eased between faculty and students and upper and lower classmen. The toughest seniors often silenced their criticisms when they donned civilian clothes, left the base, and participated in Allowed Activities.
Jane had instant caché with teens when they learned she was the composer of "Requiem." Veterans who saw the YouTube videos of her quintet playing for Veterans Day gave her quiet respect.
As autumn and winter and then spring passed her reputation grew in several directions, but where she blossomed most academically was in engineering. She quickly learned electrical, electronic, and computer systems engineering and passed exams in the areas. She kept inhaling textbooks and taking seminars and lab classes at higher and higher levels till she tested out as qualified to receive bachelor's degrees in all three areas. This aroused awe and interest in several places.
She studied aeronautical engineering. It helped that she had pilot's licenses for both single-engine reciprocating-engine aircraft and basic helicopters, but her phenomenal electronic and digital skills did not transfer over to phenomenal progress in this area. She progressed about as fast as anyone else.
The same was true in astronautics. This was her greatest love and where she spent most of her study time. Again she progressed rapidly though not prodigiously.
The last area she excelled in was athletics.
She was approached by Academy coaches for volleyball and soccer because she'd played and played well in each of the sports in high school. She said to each that she'd be happy to play when seasons for them came around. "Please contact me then." She said the same when the women's basketball coach approached her.
She turned down women's gymnastics. "Sorry, Sir. I'm already in perfect control of my body. I don't need this."
"That's an extraordinary claim," the coach said.
Jane emptied her pockets onto the woman's desk, then bent almost double to place her hands on the floor. As easily as if she stood onto her feet she stood onto them and walked around the small office. Then she flipped herself up into the air and landed on her feet again.
"I'm an extraordinary athlete, Sir."
They coach had sense of humor and chuckled. "Get out of here, kay-det!"
An offer to shoot in the rifle league excited her until she was shown with a dozen others what that entailed. As the other cadets left at the end of the first lesson she approached the coach and asked for permission to speak.
Given it, she said, "I'm sorry, Sir, but I thought we'd be firing military rifles."
"The skills are the same."
"I am REALLY sorry, Coach." Her tone was gentle. "But this is too easy for me. I'm a very expert shot already." Jane had never touched a firearm in her life but she instinctively knew if she were asked to prove her claim she could do so.
"Then I'm sorry too that we could not interest you in the service of the Academy. Since you're so eager to fire combat weapons, I believe there's a cadet club for that. Plus hand-to-hand combat. Dismissed."
Jane saluted, did an about face, and marched away.
Jane turned down all other sports when she was approached, citing academic need. The Sports Department was satisfied that she played and excelled in basketball, softball, and soccer.
Chapter 9 - USAF Academy - Summer 1
The T-6
On the first week in June, now a second year cadet, Jane and thirteen other cadets from the four years of the Academy boarded an Air Force business jet at the Colorado Springs Airport. It then took off for Laughlin Air Force Base near the border of southwest Texas.
Twenty minutes into it Jane was called to the cockpit. She hoped it would be for a good reason as it had been the last time this had happened.
It was. The pilot, an Air Force major, had her swap seats with her copilot. He and Jane traded places, a bit of a scramble. Cockpits in bizjets were compact.
"Hello, Cadet Kuznetsov. Excited about the chance to get into the cockpit of fighter aircraft?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Can the titles. It's just us girls in here. Call me Marisa."
"I'm Jane, S-- Marisa."
"What can you tell me about this craft?"
"It's one of the older Gulfstream variants. I could quote the specs of one of the newer ones, but it'd be a guess as to how much that applies this one. Especially if has been modded for military use."
"Like to read specs, do you?"
"Oh, yeah. It's like my Dad with sports cars. He practically drools when he does."
They chatted for a little while about flying subjects. Marisa let her put her hands on the copilots yoke and foot pedals. They were inactive but moved with the motion of the autopilot's commands to make minute adju
stments to their attitude and course.
After five minutes of this the pilot said, "Good luck at Laughlin, Jane. Now would you call Jason Weller up front?"
"Thank you, Marisa. See you around."
By the time the two-hour flight was over each of the thirteen other cadets got to visit the cockpit.
<>
At 10:30 local time they arrived at Laughlin AFB, the largest of the three Air Force pilot training centers. Like all the other cadets Jane peered out of the window nearest her to see it sliding over the horizon toward them. It was situated in a large flat plain.
The colors from the air were light grey with patches of dirt brown. The only green visible was in the straggling line of the Rio Grande running from the northwest toward the southeast. There were also large patches of green in the city of Del Rio maybe ten miles to the west, right on the border with Mexico.
The cadets were met on the ground by a Latina airman in grey camouflage with grey boots. She wore a billed camo cap.
"Hello, Academy. I'm Airman Sandra Rodriguez. I'll get you settled in today. Come with me."
She turned and led them to a yellow bus sitting a couple of hundred feet away near one of a long line of one-story buildings beside the runway on which they'd arrived. She ushered them in and gave an instruction to the civilian bus driver. The bus moved out and threaded its way between two of the buildings onto a street.
The buildings mostly had one story or occasionally two with a lot of space in between them. Cars and pickup trucks were everywhere. Most lots had small trees on them but were otherwise bare except for short brown grass.
They parked at one of them and went in. There they checked in to the base. They were given a base ID which let them log in to the base web site and use it to research base-specific info. They were given a booklet with a map of the base and one of the area which included the medium sized town of Del Rio seven miles to the west.
There was info about the Base Exchange and Base Commissary, the first selling mostly military uniforms and other military supplies, the second a small supermarket with a big veggie section, butchers shop, pharmacy, groceries, and so on. The booklet gave other info: the med center, several on-base clubs such as the officer's club, and area recreation. This included a very large marina 20 miles to the northeast where you could rent boats and kayaks and lodging.
The office issued slips which they could exchange for food at on-base clubs and cafeterias and pay for lodging at the on-base motel.
Sandra gathered them off to the side and answered questions.
"You are free to leave and re-enter the base in daylight and evening hours if you decide to live off-base or go into Del Rio to see a movie or cruise their mall or whatever.
"Yes, Jane?"
Jane asked if they could rent a car and park it on-base.
"Yes, you can, but you have to register it and get a card to hang on the driver's mirror so the base Air Police can see it."
Asked if they could live off base she said, "Yes, but you have to enter the address in the base web site so you can be contacted. We will put you up at the base motel. It's nice but most of the rooms are a little small. You'll see when I take you over there. It has pool and wi-fi and other facilities. If you put up there, we will pick you up in a bus every work day and return you there at the end.
"Right now, let's go to the base cafeteria, then to the BX. You'll all need two changes of uniform like mine and underwear and toiletries and such. Then the base commander wants to welcome you. After that, you're free till 8:00 tomorrow."
<>
By 1:30 Jane was free for the day. At the on-base motel, Laughlin Manor, she'd rented the largest suite. It had two bedrooms, a large living room, a kitchen with a fridge, microwave, a small pantry, a sink, dishwasher, and electric stove. She paid for it with the base lodging voucher for the month she'd be here plus another $250 a week out of her own pocket. She anticipated having friends over. She hadn't made them yet, but was sure she would.
She took her military clothing to the laundry room on her floor, the second story of a half dozen buildings arranged in an L around a pool. While a washing machine was getting out their new stiffness and smell she descended to the ground floor and to the reservation desk.
"Hi. I've just moved in. How would I rent a car?"
"We can handle that for you. Here--"
She picked up a laptop computer and set it on the chest-high shelf between them. Opened, it showed a web page title Del Rio Auto Rentals.
"Just select the make and model of car, any special requirements, and the rest you see there. It'll display the available vehicles. Pick one, skim your credit card in front of the camera, and it'll be delivered out front within the hour."
Jane picked a van with seating for eight plus a sizable cargo space behind the last row of seats. Back in her room 25 minutes later she received a text message saying the vehicle was downstairs.
In the driveway she gave the woman delivering the rental her driver's ID and signed the rental papers. That done, she was given the keys and got into the driver's seat to park it in the lot near her apartment.
Back upstairs she moved her clothing from the washer to a dryer and retired to her room.
She surfaced her TV's channels available; Basic Cable Plus gave her nearly a thousand channels, which included several local ones. Nothing appealed, not surprising the midafternoon of a Monday, so she turned off the TV and lay on the couch to stare at the ceiling.
A plan occurred, not much of one, just get out and drive around. She walked around the motel to the rooms which she could be sure had Academy cadets in them. When found she said, "I'm going out to drive into Del Rio. You want to come?"
Some said No. A few more said Yes.
At the seventh Yes person she said, as she had the previous who'd agreed, "Meet in the lobby at 3:00. Be prepared to stay out as late as 10:00."
She pulled up in front of the main entrance to the motel and triggered open the van's doors: the passenger one beside her and a sliding door on each side. Out of the sliding glass doors of the motel spilled the cadets she'd invited. One yelled "Shotgun!" and broke ahead of the others. She got in and slammed the passenger door shut, giggling and waving a finger in a "Nyah-nyah" gesture back at those behind her. She was a beautiful café-au-lait woman with tightly curled hair close to her skull.
As the rest of the cadets crowded in the two rows of back seat someone said, "August wanted to come to. Is it OK?"
Jane's body and head were turned so she could see everyone. She said, "You don't mind crowding, I don't mind. Just so everyone has a seat belt on."
She waited until everyone had managed that. It took a bit of work in the row just behind her, as four people had seated themselves there. The two women and two men didn't seem to mind the crowding, however.
"Second row, all buckled up?"
Assents followed and Jane pulled out of the driveway.
"First stop is Vehicle Registration so we can get back on base."
That took 15 minutes and they were on their way.
Hwy 90 was six lanes separated by a dirt and brown grass strip little relieved by occasional patches of tenacious pale green grass. The speed limit was 80 MPH and Jane quickly got up to that headed west.
"God," someone said, "This place sucks."
There were mumbles of agreement. Jane, viewing the flat arid countryside, could understand the feeling. The land stretched out to all sides with no relieving features except a low house or business such as a Dollar General and a self-storage warehouse. Further on was a not-terribly-green cemetery containing scattered trees that stretched maybe a mile beside the freeway and a half mile back away from it.
"Believe it or not," she said, "the maps show some housing further off the freeway which we can't see. Maybe behind those trees."
Off to the left there'd shown up dense low trees, maybe mesquite, maybe scrub oak, she didn't know. She'd researched Laughlin the night before and the area around it on the flight
here, but not that well.
Everyone peered out at the dense low trees as they drove past.
"Look!" someone said, "There's a wrecking and towing lot."
Another said, "There's an auto parts store."
"A tire shop!"
"God," said the café-au-lait princess in fake-bored accents, "Some people are SO easily amused."
The laughter following that suggested she was not far wrong.
They passed a Del Taco restaurant.
"I'm hungry."
"You can't be hungry. It's 4:00 local time so in real time it's 3:00."
"I'm still hungry."
"Real time isn't Colorado time. It's Hawaii time."
"New York time!"
"Puerto Rico time!"
"Tokyo time!"
There was silence at that.
"Nobody can beat that? Surprise, I lied. I'm from San Francisco."
There was the sound of some minor fisticuffs and a few "Ows!"
Jane said loudly, "Children! Children! You don't behave and Mama's gonna put you out."
There was silence. Then, "I'm still hungry."
A few minutes later someone said, "You won't believe this. I just called up an area map on my SuperSmart phone. It shows past that railroad and line of trees there's a whole big housing development."
Suddenly as if jumping in from another universe, there was urbanity around them.
"There's a McDonald's! Shit, we're past it."
Jane slowed a bit as traffic was beginning to pick up.
"People, we're getting into Del Rio proper but there's still a way to go to the good stuff--"
"If there's good stuff."
"--so why don't we stop at a good place for a snack to hold us over till we can have a real dinner at a nice place."
There was silence as everyone brought out a smartphone or foldable tablet computer and began researching "snack places."
Jane came to a corner of the highway where Hwy 90 turned abruptly. If she passed the turn she knew from the maps she'd studied that the current highway curved south to run to the Mexican border. Across it was a large city which Air Force personnel were "strongly advised" not to enter.