“Janet,” Mary exclaimed as she resumed control of the plane, “we’re going down!”
“This,” said Janet, “is a large plane. Larger than Sparky’s.”
“And easier to control. This,” said Mary proudly, “is the Lone Star, the only plane of its kind in the world!”
“It’s almost priceless,” Janet agreed.
“Yes, and its cargo is really priceless,” Mary might have added, but did not for that was her military secret, hers and Sparky’s. The C.O. had told just that to her before they took off.
“I am putting it on your plane,” the C.O. had said, “because your Lone Star is the fastest, strongest, most dependable transport plane we have in our outfit. And I have given the plane to you because other than two pilots that cannot be spared, you are the only one who knows her and can take her safely through.”
This, she realized, had been high praise. Hers was a grave responsibility, but Sparky, her good pal, was down there. Was he the one who had been injured? She had no way of knowing.
“I’m going down,” she repeated softly.