Chapter 41

Nikki’s turn:

Right now, I don’t feel like “Dr. Nikki”. I just got up from puking in the toilet, and I’m hoping some crackers and ginger ale will help my tummy a little. Poor Dan, his knees were weak when he headed out the door from that OTHER treatment for morning sickness. Susan’s fault, you know.

Yep! That little blue “plus” sign showed up on the tester, so I have a second visit with the doctor on the schedule this week. And I’m VERY happy, despite the upset tummy.

Breakfast is at Susan’s house this morning, and walking in her front door, I see Tina, too. “Hi, guys! How are you fixed for ginger ale?” Double squeal, which upsets little JJ and Kathy.

Later, Susan said, “Jason is sure getting a lot of field time, lately. He loves it, but I sometimes wish he were working here a bit more.”

Tina said, “Alan hardly ever gets out of the office anymore -- I think he’d switch with Jason, if he could.”

After some thought, I said, “Let’s think about that a bit. Susan, Tina, you don’t have much choice about staying here, because you’re nursing.

“And in about six or seven more months I’ll be too big to get out much. But what’s Alan doing that we can’t do?”

Tina said, “You have a point. We need more boots in the field, and he’s itching to get back out. And if he did, that would take some pressure off Jason and all the rest of the guys.”

Susan said, “We can certainly take the calls and set up the proposals. We can also do the engineering, but what we can’t do is set up the pricing for the jobs. We still need Alan or one of the Dans for that. But how much time does that take, really?”

Tina said, “I’ve watched him do it, and I’ll bet he could nearly do it with emails or text messages. Let’s talk to him about it. We need to earn our keep a little, don’t you think?”

I said, “That’s my thinking, too. After all, that’s why we got those degrees.”

And I’m thinking I need to talk to Mizz Aneeta and Dr. Stebbins about getting our PE certificates. Being real live ‘professional engineers’ means we could sign off on a lot of documentation. It’s NOT just a neat set of letters to add to my signature block.

And darn that Cindy Richards! I mean, she’s my sister and I love her and all that, but she’s supposed to be here instead of in Arizona learning to fly twin-engined airplanes. Of course when I said that, she reminded me that the hours she would need to get her rating would, if taken in the company’s Cessna 402, cost an amazing amount. Alan says five hundred bucks an hour.

And while she’s on THAT adventure, I’m looking at one of the exam papers from one of the students the university’s asked us to take on and like Sesame Street used to say, “One of these things is NOT like the other.” I’m looking at a math exam that has been horribly botched, yet his student record does not show that he had remedial math classes and he’s got excellent ACT and SAT scores.

And then I’m in Doctor Stebbins’ office.

“So you’re telling me that you actually stayed in the classroom while he took this test, Nikki?”

“Yes, Doctor Hoskins. This is HIS work.”

“What’s your conclusion?”

“I dunno who’s been taking tests in his name before, but this guy couldn’t have gotten here with this level of comprehension. He was awfully nervous while I observed. Past that, I make no statement.”

He shook his head. “I hate to see this kind of thing, but it happens. I’m going to talk with his other professors. I’d like corroboration. I don’t want you to be the focus of any repercussions.”

“Thank you,” I said. “This isn’t fun at all.”

“I know, Nikki,” he said. “Sometimes it’s not. But your others...”

I smiled. “Reason enough to keep on. That bunch and Terri and the gang, that’s great stuff.”

“Ah, yes ... you have Google AND the Department of Defense playing nice with you. Frankly I’m a bit shocked.”

“It was a balancing act. Terri asks questions of some of those people and I get the feeling she’s already derived answers and is leading them to HER conclusions.”

“Her combat Roomba,” he laughed.

“We’re thinking about marketing them,” I laughed. “For people who want a temporary security system. She added Bluetooth and then decided that an audible alarm goes off if the Bluetooth handshaking stops.”

“I need to drop by the lab,” he said.

“Please do. You’re on the Munchkins’ ‘Adopted Granddad’ roster.”

“They have a roster?”

I smiled. “Of course they have a roster. You’re on it. Mister Bill’s there, naturally. Mister Jim from the machine shop. I’m sure there will be others. It’s their way of honoring people who help them.”

“That’s the amazing part of this story, Nikki,” Doctor Hoskins said. “I’ve had contact with a few of the terrifically gifted before you and your sisters waltzed in on us, and some of those previous experiences were less than pleasant. You and your sisters broke that image. And now, Terri and Rachel and Vicki seem to fit YOUR model.”

“I dunno about us,” I said, “but the munchkins are pure fun.”

“Three days a week is working well, then?” he asked.

“Three OFFICIAL days. Doesn’t account for things in the lab at our offices. You just KNOW those minds are never idle.”

“I am to understand that Mizz Sommers is giving them a workout in the language arts.”

I smiled. “She is. And she’s developed a rapport with the English Department here on campus to direct the girls’ energy through the proper hoops...”

Doctor Hoskins’ turn to smile. “Proper hoops indeed. None of them a teenager, all three pushing the boundaries of a college education in language arts. And already past that in sciences...”

“And your previous star student is getting yet another rating for her pilot’s license,” I added.

“Cindy is not the only star in that year’s constellation, Nikki. You are neck and neck with her.”

“Thank you,” I replied, “but Cindy is Cindy. She’s a redheaded pixie and she just stands out!”

Cindy’s turn:

“I’ve licensed several doctors, but they’ve all been medical.” That was James Carver, my new flight instructor. “You’re the youngest doctor I’ve ever met, and the only physicist.”

“Physics is only a hobby,” I laughed. “My real love is engineering. I got the doctorate because of a particularly great and rather pushy professor.”

“Oh, suuuure,” he said. “Everybody gets a PhD for their hobby.”

“It’s a FUN hobby. I’ve worked on some interesting projects.”

“What sort of projects?”

“Government R & D. Railgun.”

“Wow! I’ve seen videos of that navy thing...”

“I own some of that,” I said proudly.

“But you’re seventeen.”

“I know. And a master’s in engineering and a doctorate in physics and a couple hundred hours of flight time and a private license. And you’ve seen my logbook.”

“Uh, yeah ... seriously?”

“Hubby’s over there in the other room. He loves flying. Introduced me. Created this monster. In September I get my commercial rating and I’ll be back for my instrument rating when work allows...”

“So you’re smart. How good are you at remembering things?”

I giggled. “I see what you did there, James. The study materials. Ask away, sensei!” Dan and I have spent a couple hours a night for the last two weeks poring over the sixty-odd page study guide we were supposed to memorize.

Yes, I can memorize. I can also read the material and determine the ‘why’ for most of it, especially when coupled with my study partner because if we saw each other particularly successful, we have a particularly encouraging reward regimen. Yes, four years almost, since we first met and I seduced my poor hapless Dan, the physical dimension of our union was as wild and exciting as it ever was. Those poor, poor girls I’ve listened to, hearing them whine about being bored, tired of the same partner, they are obviously missing something that I have in a hundred and eighty-five pounds of abundance.

He smiled. “Okay, let’s talk about the effects of loss of an engine.”

“Vectors,” I said. “Lots and lots of vectors, some obvious, some not so obvious. First one. Asymmetrical thrust. Plane turns into the failed engine.”

And off we went.

At one point I was madly sketching something on my iPad.

“Darnit, Cindy ... All you gotta do is FLY the thing, not provide the engineering basis for it.”

“Let’s go fly it, then...”

The Piper Seneca we used for training was half the size of our Cessna 402C. Wally’s words echoed in my head as I did the walk-around with James. Checklists. This made our old Cessna 180 look quite simple and quaint.

Into the pilot’s seat. A whole handful of controls on the quadrant between the seats – throttles, mixtures, props.

“Are you nervous?” James asked.

“Yeah, kinda,” I said. “Mind you, I’ve sort of gone through this on the 402 with my instructor back home, but that’s not official, and Wally’s used to me. He warned me.”

“Checklist, then?”

“Yes, he said that checklists are a MUST.”

More instruction, then “Okay. Let’s review the engine start procedures.”

We dutifully went down the list, James reading off an item, me putting my hand on it.

“Okay, let’s do it for real,” he said.

I can’t help but smile. Two engines turning, gauges in the green, and I’m seventeen years old and what in heaven’s name am I doing here? Oh, yeah ... flying. I key the radio. “Greenfield ground control, Piper six one five seven golf at the training center for taxi. We have information hotel.”

“Roger, five seven golf. Taxi to runway three six and contact the tower for takeoff.”

Giggle. My right hand’s on TWO throttles. I bump ‘em forward to get us unstuck from the ramp and then back off so we’re taxiing at a walk through the congested area.

“Good, good,” James said. “Okay – first take-off with a twin...”

(It’s not, but we’ll keep our mouth shut. Let the guy do his job.)

“Yessir,” I said dutifully. “Loss of engine on takeoff. If we’re still on the runway, we shut down and stop. If we’ve lifted off, then we stabilize and establish a climb, declare an emergency and land.” I paused. “Somewhere...”

“Smooth ground handling,” he said.

“Lots of practice in a lot of different aircraft. I’m in no hurry. And these things are expensive.”

“I appreciate your consideration.”

I breezed through the run-up checklist, contacted the tower. “Five seven golf, cleared for take-off.”

I rolled out onto the active runway, never stopping, carefully lining up on the center stripe, rolling forward to make sure the nosewheel was straight. “Not too late to call it off,” I quipped.