ATHENA'S DAUGHTERS: Millie

The pilot hung out of the rear cockpit, smile standing out against the dirt and oil. “This sure does not look a thing like Long Beach.”

The feminine voice momentarily surprised Sara, and she berated herself for assuming the mystery pilot had been a man. Yes, men still made up the majority of the pilots in the world, but women had been slowly upping their numbers ever since the first plane took flight more than a hundred years before.

Then the other woman’s words caught up with Sara, and she blinked in surprised. “Long Beach? Uh, no, you’re at Marine Corps Air Station New River.”

“Well, isn’t this just the darnedest pickle?” The pilot pushed her foggy goggles up onto her leather aviator’s cap before swinging herself out of the cockpit and onto the wet tarmac far more gracefully than Sara could have. “I heard there was a Marine Base nearby, I just didn’t realize it had an airstrip, much less one this nice. And runway lighting too! You military folks sure do things right.”

Standing up to her full height and pulling off her cap, the pilot shook out her short-cropped blond hair, wet with sweat. She had a willowy frame and was clad in an old-fashioned one-piece flight suit, a worn leather flight jacket, and a yellow scarf that matched the plane. The mystery pilot stood a couple inches taller than Sara, putting her at five foot eight or five foot nine. Her face was striking, with strong features that seemed familiar to Sara—as if she’d seen her before.

Probably at an air show, Sara thought.

The pilot was young, somewhere in her early twenties, at least ten years younger than Sara. The woman pulled off one of her leather gloves as she walked toward the Marine pilot.

Sticking out her hand, the pilot’s said, “Hello, I’m Millie.”

Sara grasped Millie’s hand and returned the smile, tamping down the feeling that she should be wary of a random aircraft landing on a military base. Still, there was something about this woman that Sara couldn’t put her finger on, but she felt she could trust her, and that Millie hadn’t meant to do anything malicious by landing at New River. If anything she seemed a bit lost.

“I’m Major Colón, but you can call me Sara.” She released Millie’s hand, and directed her gaze back to the antique plane. “Long Beach, eh? We thought you were on your way to Cherry Point.”

At Millie’s confused look Sara clarified, “It’s another Marine Corps air station about fifty miles from here. Figured you were taking this old beauty there for the air show this weekend.”

“Old?” Millie looked affronted, but the twinkle in her gray eyes showed she wasn’t seriously upset. “The Canary has a few miles on her, but she isn’t old.” She turned her gaze to the C-12 parked in front of the biplane. “Now that is a pretty plane. Twin engines—I’ve heard of them, but haven’t had a chance to see one up close yet.” She stepped toward the King Air, but found her way blocked Nicole’s diminutive, yet forceful, stature.

Undeterred, Millie craned her neck to look over Nicole’s graying head. “And is that a metal skin? And oh my, tricycle landing gear!”

Sara’s brown eyes widened in surprise. How had Millie never seen a beat up old King Air? Shoot, Christine had been around since the seventies at least.

Millie pressed on. “Yes, Pidge—that’s my little sister—said something about a show tomorrow. But I hadn’t yet decided if I was going to fly in it. Don’t think I fancy wing walking just yet, or ever.”

That made Sara smile. “It’s like the Marines that sometimes parachute out the back of my helo. Why would anyone ever jump out of a perfectly good aircraft?”