Her wheels slammed into the deck, hard enough to earn her the sharp clang of a shock absorber hitting its end stop.
All around this end of the deck, people spun around to see what had gone wrong and if something was on its way to kill them. When they saw what it was, most turned away.
What had gone wrong was that the deck was several feet closer than the “green” had indicated. Then she focused on who it was—Petty Officer First Class Weasel Williams! If she still wore her sidearm, she’d shoot him right through the windshield and damn the consequences.
A glance at the Landing Signals Officer revealed him holding up two fingers, a score of gross but still safe deviations from a best possible five points for her landing.
She recognized him and held up one finger.
She could see him laugh,
