Test Pilot's Daughter: Revenge by Steve Ward Page A

landing in a crosswind wasn’t just good, it was damn near perfect. I couldn’t a done much better myself. Let’s get back to PDK. I wanna watch you do it one more time in traffic, then I’ll sign you off.”
     
    Furgeson started to shake her hand, but she gave him a hug. “Okay, girl, that’s enough.” He carefully attached a big pin to her shirt.
     
    YES,
     
    I AM A PILOT!
     
     
     
    He wrote the solo date on the photograph and gave it to her for a souvenir.
     
    Christina’s joy was overwhelming. “I just want to thank you, John. You’re a fabulous teacher. Never guessed I was ready for that.” She hugged him again with no less affection than if he was her own dad.
     
    “ Well, girl, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you’re by far the best goddam student I ever had.”
     
    She didn’t take the compliment lightly. She was so moved, tears almost formed in her eyes. She could hardly speak.
     
    “ You know, I’ve always been puzzled why my dad refused to teach me,” she said with a sad look. “To be honest, we haven’t been that close since my mom died. Just want to thank you, John, for being so good to me.”
     
    Furgeson seemed a little choked up, himself. “ Sure! Let’s see how you feel when I put you through instrument training.”
     
    “ John, I want you to know that you’re much more than a flight instructor to me. You’re a wonderful mentor, and I’d trust you with my life. But most of all, you’ve done a helluva job filling in for my dad.”
     
    Furgeson didn’t answer. She thought she could see tears forming in his eyes as he quickly looked away. She wondered what he was thinking. It must’ve been a long time since he had received such praise from a young lady.
     
    Finally, he cleared his throat and turned back around to face her. “Come on, Christina, let’s quit whining in our beer. We got a lot of flying to do.”
     

 
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    On the ritual train ride to PDK, Christina stared in wonderment at the floral beauty of spring in Atlanta. It was a crisp day in April, and the hardwood forests glistened in dogwoods. Hundreds of ornamental pears lined the technology parks like something out of a fantasy. It was a majestic scene and took her mind off lingering nightmares. Her research at Georgia Tech was progressing beyond expectation, and at last she was learning to fly. Now that she was flying every week, she called her dad more often. He loved hangar talk and showered her with whoppers.
     
    With a little over ten hours in her logbook, Christina was building confidence, and Furgeson had cleared her for solo cross-countries. He wouldn’t let her turn on the GPS, that was too easy. She had to learn dead reckoning, point to point navigation with a compass and map. She didn’t mind. She loved everything about flying. As she approached each small town she would dive down to the water tower to double-check its name. It was standard procedure from the old days described in her grandmother’s book. She loved crop dusting, buzzing ground targets, engine outs, and even power-on stalls.
     
    When she arrived at PDK, Furgeson had a curious twinkle in his eye. He seemed to be in an unusually stellar mood. “Hey ace, you’re one lucky chick. Daddy called to talk about your birthday. How’d you like to taste some real flying, dogfightin’ that is?”
     
    “ You’re shittin’ me.”
     
    “ No, he came up with one hell of a birthday present.”
     
    “ What, a war video?”
     
    Furgeson handed her a brochure about an adventure enterprise called Sky Warriors . “He’s gonna pay for you and I to spend a day in the Sky Warriors combat training program.”
     
    She looked at the pictures, pointed and said, “You mean we get to fly these? Holy crap, where is it?”
     
    “ Fulton County, Charlie Brown Field on the west side of Atlanta.”
     
    “ Wow, that’s gotta cost a shit-load.”
     
    “ It’s over a thousand dollars.”
     
    “ Just like