by Kacey Ezell
“I was studying at the teachers’ college when Mrs. Durant and Captain Ledoux came to visit. They spoke at an assembly about our patriotic duty and helping to win the war. Mrs. Durant said that any of us with talent should come see her in the Dean’s office the next day. You have to understand,” she said then, looking around the table at each of them. “We never tell anyone about our talents. People don’t understand. They think we’re trying to read their thoughts or hurt them somehow. It wasn’t really that long ago when women like me were burned at the stake...and then all of a sudden here come these glamorous women talking about patriotism and the ability to do something good, not just for our country, but for all psychics everywhere. ‘If we can help win the war,’ Mrs. Durant said, ‘our sisters and daughters can finally come out of hiding.’”
“So what happened?” John asked. Logan, next to him, nodded eagerly. They all seemed rapt by her story.
“Well, I phoned my father and talked it over with my parents that night. Dad wasn’t completely thrilled with the idea, what with my brother already having shipped off with the Marines and all, but Mother thought it was a good idea. I think she secretly hoped I could look after her baby boy,” she said with a grin.
“Where is he?” Sean asked.
“Somewhere in the Pacific.”
“Huh. So much for that plan.”
“Yes. Anyway, so I went in the next afternoon and signed up. There were three of us who did, but the other two ladies didn’t pass the qualifying battery.”
“What’s a ‘qualifying battery’?” Logan wanted to know.
“A battery of tests. To see if we were psychically strong enough to do this mission. Basically, we had to withstand Captain Ledoux trying to force her way into our minds.”
“Eeesh! And you did it, didn’t you?” Logan said with a grin. “Atta girl, Evie!”
“I did, completely, and even counterattacked,” Evelyn said softly. “And I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for it. I think I embarrassed her.”
Abruptly, Evelyn realized that she’d probably said too much. To cover her awkwardness, she looked down at her plate.
The instant potatoes were watery as usual, and the vegetables had had any semblance of flavor or texture boiled out of them, but it was food, and Evelyn knew better than to turn up her nose. Her family might not have suffered as much as some during the droughts that had plagued the farm communities during the thirties, but they’d all known what it felt like to go hungry, even if just for a meal or two. Mindful of her duty, she took a bite.
Though she hadn’t felt much of an appetite, that one bite awakened a ravenous hunger in her, and she had to consciously slow down to keep herself from inhaling the entire meal like a starving barbarian. Her mother would have been mortified. The men didn’t seem to mind too terribly much, however, and the conversation quieted as they all fell to the business of eating.
As they ate, Evelyn felt her eyes drift from her plate up to one of her crewmen, and then the next. They were all so different, she thought. And yet, there was a unifying element in their thoughts. Fear, bravado, and determination all tangled together into a thread that ran just under their conscious minds. Evelyn couldn’t touch that thread without establishing a full net, and much as the bond pushed at her to do so, she still resisted. There wasn’t a need for it here in the chow hall, and she felt uneasy about spending too much time linked together.
Well, that wasn’t completely honest. The truth was, she felt really good about linking with them, but she’d always been taught that the bond had to be controlled, contained. Her earliest training had emphasized linking had to be done consensually and only for a specific purpose, for the bond was seductive and would lure the unwary into disaster. A psychic must be disciplined at all times, she’d been taught. That lesson had been underscored by the training the US Army saw fit to provide.
So Evelyn fought it down, denied her instinctive reaching toward the tantalizing landscape of their minds all around...
“Evelyn.”
Captain Peters’ voice startled her, but not nearly so much as the way all of the men sitting with her shot to their feet causing a racket of scraping benches and bumped, rattling dishes. Evelyn let out a cry that was half gasp and jumped to her own feet, bumping her knee painfully on the trestle table top. Without consciously deciding to do so, she reached out and snapped them all into a net, all of her senses pinging through them as she instinctively reacted to the unknown threat.
Evie! It’s okay! It’s just the captain!
Evelyn never knew who sent the thought, but she immediately broke the net connection as mortification surged over her. Once, perhaps, was forgivable, barely. But she should have better control than to snatch everyone into a net because one of their own people startled her! The strength of the bond and the urge to connect was nearly overwhelming, and she found that she was having to be constantly vigilant.
“Technician Adams? Are you all right?” Captain Peters asked, his dark brows creased as he looked at her with concern. She squared her shoulders and nodded.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you coming.” Which was also odd. Ordinarily, she would have sensed the approach of any of her crew. But she was having to fight the bond so much, it was taking up all of her focus. This was a problem, but at present, she had no idea how to fix it.
“It’s all right,” he said with a smile. His eyes, however, were still dark with concern. “Colonel Rizer wants to see you.”
“Of course,” Evelyn said, putting her napkin down and extricating herself from the trestle table. It wasn’t an easy thing to do in her uniform skirt, not and retain any semblance of modesty, but she managed. A frission of anxiety skittered along her nerves. When one’s wing commander desired to see one, it was rarely a good thing. She closed her eyes for just a moment and forced herself to concentrate on her breathing. Getting upset wasn’t going to help her contain the bond. In fact, it made it harder.
Especially when one of them touched her. The net leapt again, and she shoved it down, hard, deep in her mind. Her eyes flew open, and she looked accusingly at Sean.
“Sorry, Evie,” he said. “I just...link, will you? We all want it, and it’s making you crazy to hold it back. That way we’ll be with you, supporting you, whatever happens.”
Her eyes went wide, then flitted to Captain Peters’. He pressed his lips in a thin line, then nodded his assent. Evelyn exhaled slowly and released her mental death grip on the bond. The net snapped instantly into place.
All right, boys, but keep anything you hear close hold, you understand? Carl thought, his mind firm with command authority.
What? What’s going on? Evie? Did you link us in? Abram Portman asked, and Evelyn realized with mingled dismay and half-hysterical humor that that was exactly what she’d done. The net had gone out not just to the men in her immediate vicinity, as she’d intended, but to the entire crew. She got a glimpse through the navigator’s eyes of a room filled with wall-mounted maps packed with minute detail. She blinked away Abram’s vision and sent out a thought to all of them.
Yes, I initiated the net. I am sorry I didn’t get your individual permissions first. I think I’ve been weakened, and the desire to link was too much for me to fight off right now. She tried hard to keep her words clinical, but some of her miserable self-recrimination must have soaked through.
No, Evie, this is good, Carl thought firmly. We’re your crew, and we’re here to support you.
No matter what, Paul Rutherford added staunchly. Evelyn blinked quickly as her eyes started to burn with tears. She could feel Paul’s ironclad loyalty and the way she reminded him of his lost twin sister. The other men in the net echoed his sentiment, and Evelyn tried to discreetly dab the tears away.
Good, Sean thought in his typically irreverent manner. Now I won’t have to figure out how to let the other boys know what’s going on without directly telling them. Sorry, boss. Wouldn’t want to disobey your orders but...Evie’
s crew. And well...we all need to know what’s going on with her. Sean’s thoughts behind his statement were starkly clear to the entire net. Evelyn was crew, but she was also enlisted. And since he was the senior enlisted aircrewman, that made her doubly his responsibility. In Sean’s mind, he and the rest of the “boys,” as they thought of themselves, would back Evie against all comers, and he wasn’t willing to budge on that.
Carl Peters met Sean’s eyes and with the wisdom of true leadership, nodded in acquiescence.
“All right then,” Captain Peters said out loud. “Technician Adamsen, let’s go.”
* * *
Colonel Rizer’s office wasn’t exactly what Evelyn had expected. She supposed she’d been naive, but she’d imagined that such an august personage as a wing commander, a full colonel must have a spacious, plush office with deep carpets, cherry wood desks, and comfortable chairs.
It was large, which was about all she could say for it. Like the rest of the briefing rooms and offices she’d seen, Colonel Rizer’s office was cold and drab. He did have a wide window that overlooked the flightline, but England’s ever-present thick mist obscured the view.
Carl had knocked and reported in, and now he and Evelyn stood side by side at attention in front of the metal table that seemed to serve the function of a desk. The colonel was writing something when they came in. He finished, set down his pen, and leaned back in his chair as he looked at them.
“Technician Adamsen,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’re back among the living.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied softly when it became clear he expected her to say something.
“I have heard the reports of your crew and your aircraft commander. Now I’d like to hear directly from you. What happened up there with PFC Fritsche?”
Evelyn drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“I became aware of PFC Fritsche’s injury through our crew’s psychic net, sir. I directed Les—Corporal Norton, that is, our left waist gunner, to try to render assistance, but Corporal Norton was busy engaging enemy fighters that threatened our aircraft, sir,” she said.
The fighter fire was really heavy right then, Les supplied to her. Tell him that. No one else could get to Bobby in time.
“Through the net, I realized that PFC Fritsche’s injuries were severe enough that he needed immediate attention, but no one could get to him right away, due to the heavy enemy fire. So I held on to his consciousness and refused to let him slip away,” she said, unconsciously squaring her shoulders. It didn’t take a psychic net to tell her that Colonel Rizer was skeptical.
“I didn’t realize that psychics could do that,” he said.
“I can,” she replied softly.
“Captain Ledoux informs me that what you did was extremely dangerous. She told me there are stories of psychics trying to do exactly what you did. Apparently, it’s happened before, but the psychic usually dies too. Why is that?”
Evelyn resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze and forced herself to speak calmly.
“The psychic bond works two ways, sir,” she said. “When I took tighter hold of PFC Fritsche’s consciousness, my consciousness also became more tightly wound with his as a result. An equal and opposite reaction, if you will. If his injuries had been so severe that his body shut down despite my hold on his consciousness...I might have died with him. When his consciousness died, it might have taken mine as well.”
“I see,” Colonel Rizer said, his voice flat. “And you judged that risk to be acceptable?”
Evelyn swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice soft and small, despite her best intentions.
“Technician Adamsen, are you aware of the results of yesterday’s mission?”
“Yes, sir. I think so. I heard it was a success.”
“An unqualified success,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and pressing his index finger to the desk. “The target was 100% destroyed. Initial reports estimate it will take months, if not years, to rebuild up to its peak production capacity. This was a phenomenal success, and we only lost eight aircraft out of the entire formation. Eight! And two of their crews were recovered almost immediately because there was a psychic on board one of them.”
“Yes, sir,” she said again, not sure what else to say. He seemed angry, despite the good news he recounted.
“Technician Adamsen, I don’t have to ask what you think made the difference, do I? Is it not clear? It was you ladies. You and your colleagues took a mission that had a sixty-three percent average casualty rate and made that a fourteen percent casualty rate. And I have only seventeen of you!”
Evelyn had to fight to keep from rocking back on her heels as Colonel Rizer came to his feet, leaning toward her over the desk and speaking with an intensity that echoed through the drab office.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“Losing one of you, even to save one of my men is not an acceptable risk. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” she said again, a little louder.
Colonel Rizer stared at her for a moment longer, his eyes boring into hers with that intensity of command. Though she was tied up in her own psychic net, she couldn’t help but feel his iron drive, his desperate need, and underneath it all, the anguish of knowing every order he gave meant more men would die. Evelyn’s knees began to tremble, and her throat began to tighten up as tears threatened. Instantly, her crew was there, bolstering her, remembering their own episodes of reprimand for past incidents, supporting her. She swallowed hard and refused to let her eyes drop.
Colonel Rizer nodded sharply and sat back down.
“You are dismissed,” he said, looking back down at the paperwork spread on the desk before him.
Evelyn made her facing movement toward the door as sharp as she could. Then she and Carl moved smartly out before she could lose her composure.
* * *
As they left the headquarters building, the quiet in Evelyn’s head became conspicuous.
You agree with him, she sent to them all. It wasn’t a question. It didn’t have to be, after all. She could feel what they were thinking.
Evie, Sean thought slowly, after it became apparent that none of the officers were going to explain. It’s like this. The colonel is right. Bobby’s a good guy, one of the best. But at the end of the day, he’s...all of us...none of us is anybody special. There’s a thousand guys in the training pipeline right now getting ready to come out here and do this job. None of us want to die, and none of us wants to see our friends die, either. And you girls...women. You psychic women keep more of us alive at the end of the day. So if you live, we’ve all got a better shot at living, see?
Amidst her sadness and fatigue at the stark realities they all faced, Evelyn felt a tiny thread of amusement. Trust the baby-faced, red-headed sergeant to lay it all out there.
I do see, she sent quietly.
That’s how my sister died, Evie. That was Paul, their bombardier. With a jolt, Evelyn realized that he was transmitting to the whole crew, not just herself. We were twelve, and we’d been swinging on this old rope swing and jumping into the swimming hole near our house. I hit my head on a rock or something near the bottom. Lucy linked with me to try to keep me alive, but she couldn’t. They got me out of the water, were able to revive me, but her heart just wouldn’t start again. His mental touch felt soaked with old sorrow, and Evelyn could feel the rest of the crew move, as she did, to offer wordless support. Her eyes burned, then filled and overflowed with emotion.
“It’s a hard thing, Evie,” Carl said softly, speaking out loud. He paused beside where she’d stopped. A group of enlisted men was walking toward them from the other direction. Carl stepped in front of Evelyn to shield her from their curious eyes as she fought to regain her composure. Carl returned their salute and watched for a moment to ensure they continued on their way before he reached down and wrapped Evelyn in a hard hug. “I’m sorry that you’re having a hard time with this, but at the end of the day, the colon
el is right, and Sean is right. You’re too valuable.”
Evelyn sniffed loudly, her cheeks red with embarrassment, and nodded. Carl gave her one more squeeze, then let go with a nod.
Thank you all, Evelyn sent across the net. Your support means everything to me. I’m going to head back to my quarters now.
Good idea, Carl said in the net. That knock will probably come early tomorrow. You need your sleep because none of us want to go up without you.
Wordless agreement echoed from all points on the net. She might have put herself at risk, but she’d convinced even the most skeptical of her crewmates. Evelyn took a deep breath, braced herself, and consciously severed the connection. She had to be rather firm about it because, of course, the bond didn’t want to let go.
Captain Peters shivered slightly and blinked a few times.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s disconcerting. That felt even less comfortable than when you fainted.”
Evelyn drew in another shaky breath and nodded.
“Every connection makes the bond stronger, which means it’s harder on all of us to let it go. Especially ours. Ours seems...particularly strong.”
“Are you sure it’s not just because of what we’ve been through? You said that shared experiences make it stronger, right? You can’t tell me you’ve ever been through anything like a bombing mission before.”
“You know, you’re right, sir,” Evelyn said slowly. Her shoulders began to relax in relief. “That’s a very good point.”
The strength of the crew’s bond had been worrying her. She absolutely did not want to fly with another crew, but she’d been afraid that she was going to have to, if only to keep the bond from growing out of control. But if the bond’s strength was just a function of the missions themselves...well...then there was no reason she couldn’t keep flying with her crew. Flying with any other crew would have the same effect.