3
Michael noticed when Trisha entered the chow line despite the busy room. He and Bill sat at their usual table in the far corner with their backs to the wall and exits to their right and straight ahead. At the nearer tables, the eight men of the two D-boy fire teams sat eating quietly. SOAR and Navy spread about the low-ceilinged, gray wardroom mess of Second Deck, though rarely mixing. A cluster of Rangers at the far end of the mess was making most of the noise.
Then the new pilot appeared behind Trisha. She was several inches taller and built quite differently. Everything about Trisha was petite, except perhaps her temper and her boundless energy.
The other woman had straight, blonde hair that spread over her athletic shoulders despite being up in a sleek ponytail. She’d shed her SAR
