But there were some unexpected twists. When I showed up for the Dilbert Dunker with Jacira and Betty, they gave us swimsuits.
Specifically, they gave us little blue bikinis.
In the dressing room, I held up the skimpy material and frowned. “Last time I took this test, we had to do it in a flight suit.”
Jacira shrugged and unbuttoned her blouse. “I have learned not to be surprised at what Americans do.”
“Don’t look at me.” Betty pulled her blouse off over her head. “I didn’t do any advanced training when I was in the WASPs.”
Jacira and I exchanged a glance. The application had required four hundred hours in high-performance aircraft. I didn’t know how they did things in Brazil, but skipping that as a WASP would have been a surprising lack.
Regardless of my training, I had a choice of wearing the bikini or doing the test in my clothes, so I pulled the scraps of fabric up and did my best to make sure that they covered everything they were supposed to cover. Maybe they were going to give us the flight suit when we got out of the locker room.
Betty finished changing first, and headed out of the dressing room. She stopped right outside the bathroom door, then turned around and came back in. “Elma?”
“Yes?” I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my midriff in a vague attempt at modesty.
“There are reporters here.” Strain tightened her face. “I didn’t call them.”
Nodding, I continued to secure the towel, as if it took all my attention. “Thank you for the warning.”
The Miltown in my purse whispered promises of calm, but I was about to go through underwater training. I couldn’t afford to have my reflexes slowed even a little.
Scowling, Betty strode to her bag and pulled out a tube of lipstick. “Goddamn it. What part of ‘exclusive’ don’t they understand?”
Rolling her eyes, Jacira pulled her long, dark hair back into a ponytail. “They are about to dunk us underwater. Many times. And you are put on lipstick?”
Betty shrugged. “With the bikinis, it’s pretty clear what kind of a test this is going to be. I aim to pass, ’cause I sure as hell ain’t going to pass orbital mechanics.”
I almost went out the door as I was. I was a physicist and a computer and a pilot, not a pinup girl. And yet … and yet, I could hear Mama saying, What will people think? She had always been on me to “gussy up” a little. I knew what the rules were for women. “Goddamn it.”
Turning back to my bag, I slammed it open and dug through it to find my own tube of lipstick. The pill case rattled in the bottom of the bag, and I hesitated over it. No. I needed my reflexes fast for this test. I’d survived the press conference, and for most of the trial, there would be thousands of gallons of water between me and the reporters.
The silver lipstick tube gleamed in a corner of my bag. It was slick beneath my fingers. I pulled the lid off, twisted it, and applied a thick red coat to my lips. The makeup ladies at Mr. Wizard would be so proud.
Jacira watched and shook her head. “No. This is not why my country sent me.”
“It’s not why I’m here either.” I capped the tube and straightened. “But lipstick won’t keep me from doing my job.”
Betty snorted. “Wearing lipstick practically is my job.”
“You don’t really…”
“Yep.” She surveyed herself in the mirror and dropped her lipstick back in the bag. “I didn’t have the flight hours to make the first cut, but Life was able to pull some strings to get me into the testing. After that? That’s been all me, but I still owe the devil their due.”
Given a choice, would I have made the same bargain? Oh yes. Yes, I would have. “Well. Shall we face the devil?”
“Heh. Most of these are just minor demons.” She strutted toward the door. “Wait until Life hears about this. Then you’ll see the devil incarnate.”
I followed her to the door and thanked God for the towel. Cameras snapped and flashes went off as the three of us made our way to the Dilbert Dunker. And I had my first heart-sinking moment of realizing that Betty was right.
Let Betty pose for the camera. I focused on the actual test. The Dilbert Dunker sat at the deep end of the pool, up on a stand. The bright red metal cage had a pilot seat inside and sat poised above a set of rails that led into the pool. Ah … I’d spent so many hours learning to escape a water landing that it seemed almost nostalgic.
The problem was that training for an underwater escape began in the pool, outside the Dunker, with an obstacle course. They hadn’t set one up. They were going to start us with the Dunker. We were being set up to fail.
The Navy test admins turned around to watch us. Or, more accurately, to watch Betty.
I could hardly blame them. How did she manage to sway like that without coming out of the bikini? The fabric was blue, but you could see it turning red just from the heat of her walk.
She stopped in front of the Navy officers with Jacira and me at her back, making an impromptu triangle. “So … who wants to dunk me?”
They had to pull Betty out of the cage. Mind you, this wasn’t unusual for a first attempt, even with proper training. The thing dropped down a rail at a fifty-degree angle, hit freezing water, and then flipped you upside down. You had to unstrap yourself and escape the cage and they had blinders over your eyes, so you were doing it all by feel.
This is why Navy divers were in the pool as a matter of course. Still, I will admit to a certain amount of petty satisfaction at seeing Betty pulled out of the pool like a drowned cat. They wrapped her in a blanket and set her down on a bench while they reset the machine. My satisfaction turned to shame as I watched her shiver. I remembered my first attempt at the Dunker.
I turned to the Navy officer in charge. “Shall I go next?”
He did not quite roll his eyes, but it was close. “Sure. Why not. Let’s send all of you in.”
And this was what they called training … Trying not to growl, I clambered up the ladder to the Dunker’s cage. Here, I had to let go of my towel, and the last scrap of modesty my mother had instilled.
As it dropped, flashes went off from the bevy of reporters stationed around the pool. I lowered myself into the cage and nearly shrieked.
The cage was metal. Including the seat. It had been in a pool of frigid water. I was wearing a bikini.
I definitely squeaked, but managed to keep it from being more than that. Still, it was one more reason to wish I were wearing a flight suit.
The officer lowered the harness over my shoulders. The cold, damp canvas pressed against my bare flesh as he helped me get buckled in. “All right, sweetheart. This is going to drop into the water and turn upside down. Your job is to not panic until the divers pull you out.”
“I thought my job was to release myself and swim clear.” I ran my hands over the buckle, trying to memorize its position.
“Right. That’s what I meant.” He slapped the top of the cage and stood up.
I leaned out. “Blinders?”
He hesitated and knelt back down. “You done this before?”
“I was a WASP.” Of course, Betty had been too, but I’d flown high-performance aircraft. “Ferried Mustangs and most of the fighter planes, so they sent me to Ellington to train.”
“Huh.” He drummed his fingers on the edge of the cage, then leaned in close. “Okay. Listen. They aren’t giving you dames the blinders. We were told to just go through the motions. You want to do this for real?”
I stared at him for a moment. Just go through the motions? They weren’t going to put any of us into space.