“You mean the oldest,” Captain Smith said, his voice dry as a bone, and Pearl had to fight not to let herself smile in response.
“That, too. I wanted to get us all together, so we could reassure you that you’re going to be just fine. We’ll take good care of you in the air, especially if you can take care of us.”
“That’s why I’m here,” she said softly, her eyes narrowing. “But, pardon me, sir, but why aren’t any of you surprised to see me?”
Major Corder’s epic smile faded a bit, and a grim understanding crept into his eyes.
“You mean,” he said. “Why aren’t we surprised to find out that you’re black?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Colonel Rizer briefed us,” he said. “You have to understand that he personally paired up each psychic with her crew, based on what information we had on all of you. He called me in to his office a few weeks ago and asked if I had a problem with black folks. I didn’t, never have, and so I said no. Then he asked about my crew, and I gave the same answer. In my experience, people are people, and if you can do the job they say you can do, then I want you on my aircraft. Can you?”
“Do the job?”
“Yes.”
Pearl straightened her shoulders again, this time in pride, rather than defiance.
“Better than any woman alive, save only my mother…and maybe Evie Adamsen…but maybe not. She’s strong, but I’ve beaten her before.”
“Good enough for me,” Major Corder said. “Well, you heard the colonel as well as I did. We’re on the roster in the morning, so what preparation do you need tonight?”
* * *
The officers may have been briefed, but Pearl couldn’t miss the widened eyes and raised eyebrows of the enlisted crewmen once they met her. Still, they each took her hand and allowed her to link them into a preliminary network readily enough, and she didn’t find anything too objectionable in their surface thoughts…not for most of them, anyway.
The leader of the enlisted crew was the Flight Engineer/Gunner, a sergeant by the name of Eric Henson. He was older than most of the rest of the men, with a grizzled look to his short, sandy hair. His eyes squinted slightly at her, but his smile was genuine enough, and he shook her hand without hesitation. His buddy, and the next highest ranking man, was left waist gunner Sergeant Scott Kuntzelman, a lanky fellow who grinned at her behind wire-rimmed glasses. Corporal Peter Gold, the radio operator, took her hand gravely and gave her a solemn nod, but she could feel how glad he was to have her there. The right waist gunner, Corporal Moorefield, gave her a wide, irreverent grin and a “Bless Your Heart” in a soft Carolina accent. Pearl blinked, then laughed in surprise.
“Don’t get cheeky with me, Corporal Moorefield,” Pearl said. “I was born and raised in Atlanta; I know what ‘Bless Your Heart’ means.”
“Yes ma’am,” Moorefield said with a laugh, taking her hand and giving it a solid shake. “She’ll be just fine, boys. Just fine. The lady can hold her own.”
“Y’all have no idea,” Pearl said, flashing him a bright grin before moving on to the other men. Deep in her mind, however, she felt a flash of gratitude for Corporal Moorefield’s easing of the mood.
A stocky young man an inch shorter than she was shouldered his way forward. Not a hard thing to do, considering he was nearly as broad as he was tall, and looked like he was chiseled out of stone.
“I’m PFC Lawrence Koz,” he said, taking her hand as soon as Moorefield let it go. “Anybody gives you trouble about anything, you come see me. I’ll handle it.”
He looked like a bulldog, and sounded like one, too, with a gruff, gravelly tone to his words. Pearl couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Thank you, PFC Koz,” she said. “But as the corporal mentioned, I can handle myself.”
“Yeah, but you’re a lady. Shouldn’t need to. Not when you’ve got men around to do it for you.”
“Aren’t you sweet,” she said. “Tell you what. Let’s just take care of each other, shall we? That’s why I’m here, after all…to help you boys take care of yourselves in the air.” She looked around then, and belatedly realized that one member of the group hadn’t stepped forward yet.
“And you are?” Pearl asked the young man hanging back with a dubious expression.
“Come on, Lester,” Koz said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be a fat head.”
“Private First Class Lester,” Major Corder said then, his voice holding a steely note of warning.
The last young man squared his shoulders and turned to face her. He carefully blanked his expression, but not before Pearl could see the suspicion and doubt in his eyes. Ah. So maybe not all of the crew was as accepting as the major had promised.
Nevertheless, he stepped forward.
“Why the hesitation, Sugar?” Pearl asked, thickening her accent and using the stereotypical term of endearment just to poke at the young man. “Is it because of my power or my color?”
The young man squared his shoulders and met her brown eyes with his own steely ones.
“Neither,” he said, his tone clipped.
“Private Lester, if you can’t work with our assigned psychic, you can find another crew,” Major Corder said. Lester swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then gave a short nod.
“I’m good, sir,” he said.
“Then take my hand, Sugar,” Pearl said, reaching out. She watched his face, looking for the moment of flinching, the hesitation before he let his lily-white skin touch her own bronzy-pink palm. The hinge of his jaw tightened, as if he were gritting his teeth, but he reached out and took her hand.
The moment his fingers touched hers, Pearl stretched her power out, using that small touch as an anchor and conduit. She felt Jack Lester’s surface thoughts and sent a whispered pulse of request to flutter against them. She felt his mind open to hers, albeit slowly, and then the steely strength of his mental landscape pulled her in, welcoming her in a way that Pearl knew the man himself would not, did he have a choice.
Jack, she said. Can you hear me?
Y-yes…you’re in my head!
Yes, Pearl said, keeping her thoughts patient during this initial burst of panic. It wasn’t that unusual for people unused to psychic contact to feel…well…disoriented wasn’t the right word, but it was maybe the closest. With a practiced touch, Pearl reached out and smoothed down the ragged skeins of his emotions wherever she could.
Yes, she said again. I’m in your head and you’re in mine. Look, you can see through my eyes if you want. She eased up on the blocks she’d instinctively put on her visual channels, so that he could perceive his own face, paler than normal, his blue eyes bugging out just a bit as he gripped her hand and stared sightlessly at her face.
I…I can.
Yes, and hear through my ears and feel what I feel. This is a good connection. You’re the tail gunner, right? This will let me know what you’re thinking and pass it to the other men, so that if you get into trouble back there, you won’t be left all alone.
How did you know I…Jack trailed off as he realized that his fear of being abandoned at the far end of the B-17’s fuselage was clear to her. Despite herself, she sent him a pulse of reassurance.
Don’t worry, she said. I won’t tell the others or let them feel it. But I bet you’d find them more sympathetic than you think.
No thanks, Jack said, and his suspicion flowed back in as his panic and disorientation faded. Behind her barriers, Pearl sighed in disappointment. For just a moment, she’d thought she’d gotten past his prejudice. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t have to like her to let her in, and once she was in, she could do her job.
“I’ve linked with Jack…PFC Lester,” she said out loud, letting go of Jack’s hand and reaching out to the rest of the group gathered around. “If you’ll each come take my hand, I will extend this psychic link to a full network that will include each of you, and then we’ll see what we’re working with.”
To no one’s surprise, Major Cord
er was next. He gripped her fingers and opened his mind, and she felt herself drawn into the landscape of Dan’s mind as well.
Sorry about that, sir, she said as she remembered that this was a military organization, not a group of random friends at her school or her brother’s college. When linked in a network, I tend to think of you as you tend to think of you, and you think of yourself as “Dan” not “Major Corder.”
No…problem, Dan thought back slowly as he realized how to articulate his thoughts to her. Just be…careful out…loud.
Yes sir, Pearl promised. Now can you feel Jack, PFC Lester, there with you?
J-Jack? Dan thought.
Here, sir. Despite his problems with her, Jack was obviously very close to his aircraft commander, because the lines of the connection snapped into place between the two of them with barely any input from her. It’s strange, but it’s not a bad feeling.
It’s extraordinary! Dan replied, enthusiasm building in him, ringing through the lines of their connection. Let’s bring the others in, can you?
Certainly, Pearl said, smiling a little bit. At least someone appreciated the things she could do. She let go of the major’s hand and reached out to the next member of her crew.
* * *
They worked late. Later than they probably should have done, but Pearl wanted to make sure she could tie everyone into a seamless network before their mission in the morning.
When the knock came at 0400, Pearl rose and dressed with the other women, then made her way to the chow hall to get breakfast. Her stomach still ached with hunger from the previous night’s exertions. Psychic work was hungry work, and she needed food to keep her fueled if she was going to be successful.
As she and a few of the other women approached the double doors of the rounded hut that held the chow hall, her consciousness twinged at her, pulling her attention off to the side. She turned to look and surprised herself with a smile.
“Well, good morning, Sergeant Kuntzelman,” she said, as brightly as she could manage before coffee. “Corporal Gold, Sergeant Henson…is the whole crew here?”
“Just us three for now,” Sergeant Kuntzelman said, answering her smile with his own wide grin. “Koz, Moorefield, and Lester are down at the bird already, and the officers are getting their brief. How are you, Technician Silver? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”
“Very funny,” Pearl said, falling into step with the waist gunner.
“Ain’t I just?” he said, nudging Henson in the side. “You want to come with us? We were just going to grab a bite for the other guys and head out to load up.”
“That sounds perfect,” Pearl said. “As long as you don’t make any cracks about how much food I bring. Psychic work is hungry work.”
“So’s flying. Long as you keep it down in the air, I’m not gonna judge you none.”
“He’s lying,” Henson put in, leaning around his buddy’s lanky frame to wink at Pearl. “He’s a bona fide gossip queen, this one.”
Pearl laughed as they walked in through the doors and entered the chow line. She was enjoying the crew’s banter so much that it took her a minute to notice the way the noise gradually died down wherever she went. It wasn’t until she came face to face with the man serving bacon that she realized that the whole place had fallen silent.
“Serve the technician, Private,” Kuntzelman said, his voice low and dangerous. Pearl glanced over at him in surprise. His open, easy face had taken on a hard edge, and his eyes glinted like steel blades behind his glasses. “We ain’t got all morning.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” the private said slowly. He looked down at the tongs in his hands as if he’d never seen them before, then shook himself and picked up a few slices of over-crisp bacon. He set them on Pearl’s tray without meeting her eyes, and then hurried to serve Kuntzelman and the others as well.
“Thank you,” Pearl said, her voice clipped. The private ignored her, as she’d expected he would, but her mother had raised her to be polite, and so polite she would be. She lifted her chin higher and pushed her tray down along the rails toward the end of the line.
“Don’t worry about that guy,” Corporal Pete Gold said, coming up to her as she wrapped up her bacon and some biscuits to take out to the aircraft. “He’s a known troublemaker from the weather squadron. That’s why he’s on KP. Sergeant K and Sergeant Henson will straighten him out.”
“It’s all right,” Pearl said, giving Gold a brief smile. “I’m used to it. At least he didn’t say anything. And it’s not like I don’t stick out like a sore thumb.”
“It’s not all right,” Sergeant Henson growled from behind them as he and Kuntzelman caught up. “But we ain’t got time to deal with it right now. We’ll handle it when we get back, Technician, I promise.”
“Thank you,” Pearl said again, meaning it a little more this time. “I appreciate y’all backing me up.”
“We’re a crew,” Kuntzelman said, and the others nodded. “You’re going up with us…that makes you one of us. That zombie doesn’t have the stones…ah…sorry, Technician Silver. We’re not used to having ladies around.”
“It’s quite all right, Sergeant Kuntzelman,” Pearl said. Something warm uncurled within her chest, and her smile grew. “And please, call me Pearl.”
* * *
You doing all right, Pearl? Eric Henson asked later, as they climbed through the thick layer of clouds that blanketed the English Channel. Their bird was called One For The Money and was part of a large formation of Flying Fortresses. Pearl didn’t really know just how many aircraft were in the air together. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Y-yes, Pearl said, then firmed up her mind and tried again. Yes. Flying just takes a bit of getting used to is all. I’ve done it before, but never in a network this large. It’s a lot to take in.
You’re doing fine, Eric replied. Then a thread of dry humor tricked down through the lines of the network. Leastways, I think you are. I’ve never been in a network this large while flying either!
Pearl sent a pulse of silent laughter back to the flight engineer, then reached out down the lines of the network to check on the other men in her crew. They were, of course, old hands at flying, and reassured her as much as she did them.
All except for Jack Lester, out on the tail, that is.
I’m fine, he responded curtly to her mind touch. Nothing to report.
Roger, she said, and withdrew quickly back to the much more welcoming thoughts of the rest of the crew. In the back of her mind, she knew that she and Jack would both prefer it if she left him alone. But she had a job to do, and so she kept him wired into the network, though only by the thinnest of psychic threads.
Pearl.
That wasn’t one of her men. Pearl blinked quickly in surprise and actually turned her body in the direction of the reaching touch from one of her fellow psychics.
Evie
Yes. Listen, Alice McGee got into some trouble on the lead bird. The clouds made her disoriented, and it disoriented her crew. So, we’re going to link up, just superficially, and see if we can’t reinforce each other.
That’s a good idea, Pearl thought back to Evelyn Adamsen in Pretty Cass up towards the front of the formation. Why didn’t we think of that before?
Maybe because none of us has ever done this before, Evie thought back with her dry, understated humor. You’re one of the strongest of us; see what you can do to help any of the others who falter, all right? I’m going to reach out to Maude on the other side.
You got it, Evie. Pearl thought back and opened up a channel to let the dark-haired girl from South Dakota establish a superficial link. One by one, the girls on the other Flying Fortresses linked in, and the whole formation tightened up significantly.
Wow, Dan Corder said from his pilot’s seat up front. I can’t believe how much easier this is to fly close. It’s like I know what he’s gonna do right as he does it.
Psychic thought is faster than most people’s reaction time from visual inputs
, Pearl said. It takes most people between three and five seconds to visually recognize a stimulus, process the information, and direct their own response. Psychic thought speeds that cycle up by shortening the stimulus response and analysis processes.
No one said anything on their network. The silence was deafening.
Did I say something wrong? Pearl asked, fear stabbing through her. Other than her fellow WACs, these men were the closest thing she had to friends in England. She couldn’t afford to alienate them, especially if she was going to keep flying with them!
Well, we don’t exactly know, Lawrence Koz—who thought of himself as “Koz” rather than Lawrence—said eventually. I can’t speak for the officers, but none of us Joes is smart enough to know what the hell you said, begging your pardon, Pearl.
Yeah, we don’t know what she said either, Koz, Zipper quipped, prompting a growing cascade of laughter that rippled through the network from most of the men.
I was studying to be a nurse before I came here, Pearl said.
Nurse? You sound more like a brain surgeon!
More laughter rolled down the connections, until Pearl finally gave in and shook her head, chuckling.
Well, y’all remember that, then. I’m not just a pretty face. I’ve a brain in my head and the will to use it.
We all coulda told you that! Dan said, and that made Pearl join the men in laughing out loud.
* * *
They broke out of the weather over France, and suddenly the long, droning monotony of flight became something entirely different.
The first thing Pearl noticed was a change in the minds of her crewmen. So far, they’d been mostly fighting a sleepy kind of boredom while they locked away their natural fears. But as the French coast stretched away below them, that boredom melted away as those fears spiked through the men, taking the forms of adrenaline and excitement. The enlisted men all racked their weapons and started scanning their assigned sectors for the tell-tale flash of Luftwaffe wings.
To Slip the Surly Bonds Page 24