As he passed neat the access ladder by the Extender’s forward loading hatch, not far back from the aircraft’s nose, he was still so enthralled by the sight of the aircraft that he rather uncharacteristically failed to take care where he was walking. He barely caught the sight of a combat jacket and short, dark hair in his peripheral vision as something jogged his right arm, and he finally dragged his attention from the huge machine above him.
“Sorry, buddy,” he began quickly as he spun around, “my fault…”
“Aye, that was never in any doubt, major,” Eileen Donelson agreed with laughter in her voice as she also stopped and turned to face him from a distance of a metre or so, his features sagging with embarrassment as he saw who he’d actually collided with. “I think we could get to know each other a little better, though, before we start being each others’ ‘buddies’…!”
“Aw, I’m sorry Commander… didn’t see you there… no disrespect.” The man found himself unusually lost for words in the presence of the female officer whom he’d just met, for the first time, earlier that same morning. He’d spent very little time in the company of women in general in the last ten years, most of that time having been taken up with fighting of one sort or another, and he found himself quite uncomfortable as a result, often stumbling over his words a little in uncertainty and embarrassment. Although he wasn’t exactly sure of the naval rank structure, he also had a sneaking suspicion that the commander slightly outranked him, making things decidedly more awkward.
“That’s quite all right, major,” she laughed again, the sound of her voice as she did so going a long way toward easing his discomfort. It was a laugh of good humour rather than any malice or mischief — she was definitely not laughing at him. “We all have our moments, I know… and the name’s Eileen, please. Max runs a fairly informal show here, as I’m sure you’ve already worked out.” She paused for a moment, cocking her head slightly sideways, as if sizing him up somehow. “That’s assuming you’ve no problem with me calling you ‘Richard’, of course…?”
“No!” He began, a little too definitively to not be embarrassed, and then continued more calmly: “No… Eileen… not at alclass="underline" ‘Richard’ is just fine.”
“Going camping, are we?” She countered instantly, changing the subject as she eyed the pack and weapons slung on the man’s back. Kransky was substantially taller than Donelson and she was forced to tilt her head upward to look directly into his eyes.
“I like to keep myself used to carrying a full pack — it helps keeps me in shape among other things.”
“Looks a mite heavy to me,” Eileen replied with a friendly grimace. “I’ll stick to running, thanks all the same.”
“You like to run?” Kransky was genuinely surprised. The heavy combat jacket she wore was long and thick and gave no real indication as to her figure or physical condition — two things the man was definitely interested in seeing more of — and he didn’t remember too many of the women back home in ‘Jersey being particularly interested in exercise at all.
“Aye, I don’t mind putting in a kilometre or two in the mornings. You’re welcome to join me if you like: running on your own’s a bit boring, and the rest of the so-called ‘men’ around here are too bloody lazy to drag themselves out of bed at the times I prefer to exercise.”
“Ah… I don’t know…” Kransky began slowly, eager to say yes on a whim, but hesitant nevertheless: much as spending time with the female officer intrigued and appealed to him, he fancied his own fitness and took pride in his condition, and he didn’t think showing her up at something she liked doing would go down too well.
“Well, if you’re worried I’ll leave you behind, Richard,” she goaded, knowing exactly which buttons to push to engage the competitive nature of any man.
“No… no, that’s fine… what time?” There was only so much a male ego could take — he wasn’t going to have any woman think she was his better.
“Say… maybe… oh-seven-hundred-hours? Right here, near the tower?”
“Sounds just fine, ma’am… uh… Eileen…” He grinned, shaking his head as he corrected himself. “Looking forward to it.”
“My pleasure,” she quipped, turning to leave and then halting for a moment. “After we’re done, bring those weapons along to the workshops and we’ll see what we can do with them for you… maybe we can make a few improvements to the little arsenal you have there.” She turned and began walking this time, throwing over her shoulder: “See you tomorrow, Richard…”
There was no real point in replying as he’d need to shout far more loudly than he cared to as the distance between them increased. He instead took some time staring at her retreating form, as much intrigued as he was suddenly attracted to her. He had no qualms about that attraction, not thinking it any big thing in itself… he was a guy, after all, and a guy who’d spent a great deal of time not in the company of women at that: Commander Eileen Donelson would’ve needed to be far less attractive than his first impressions made her seem for him to not be thinking about her in the less than professional manner that he indeed was.
Her appearance from behind, despite the bulky shape of the jacket, certainly suggested her figure was one of someone accustomed to keeping in shape. He grinned and congratulated himself on his own style and ingenuity… he’d indeed make every effort to go ‘easy’ on her tomorrow morning and not get too far ahead: it never hurt to keep in the good books with an attractive woman.
All the same, although his experience with women wasn’t as great as it might’ve been, he was nevertheless a good judge of people generally and it was clear that Eileen Donelson wasn’t of a similar mould to any female he’d ever met. There were many much more subtle indicators than just the obvious one of the high rank that she held in such a conservative service as the Royal Navy, and her distinctly overt self-confidence was equally significant. He had no doubt that getting to know Commander Eileen Donelson was going to be an interesting exercise regardless of where it led, and silently reaffirmed his decision despite some protest from his ego: he would definitely go easy on her…
Thorne and Kelly arrived back at Scapa Flow not long after noon, following a long and completely uneventful flight from RNAS Ronaldsway in a Coastal Command Sunderland flying boat. A Morris light utility car had collected the pair from the docks at the naval base’s main anchorage and taken them south along a narrow, dirt track that ran up a slight rise past the Lyness Naval Cemetery. The track then ran on to the quite separate cluster of buildings and runway a kilometre or more further on that comprised the newly-constructed Hindsight base. Although he remained silent all the while, Kelly took in everything as they drove on, and his attention was suddenly and utterly consumed by the sight of two gigantic aircraft as they neared a set of gates on the northern side of the main hangar buildings and runway.
The son of an Irish farm worker, Kelly was quite well read and literate for all that, despite having been forced to teach himself a good part of his own education over the years. As Thorne’s credentials were checked and they moved on through those gates, it was immediately obvious to him that the aircraft he was staring at were far beyond the scope of anything he’d ever experienced. The IRA volunteer had seen warships at a distance, and what he thought to be relatively large freighters and ocean liners from closer up, mostly moored at the docks in Dublin and Belfast, but he’d seen no construction of man as impressive or as imposing as the KC-10A Extender and C-5B Galaxy.