'Leave early?That's a first.'
'I smell a rat,' McLanahan said.
'Big deal,' Luger said. He placed a hand near the yellow ejection trigger ring, now stowed on the front of his ejection seat between his legs. 'I've punched out of this thing a dozen-' Luger never finished that sentence.
The trainer suddenly swerved and heeled sharply to the right. Almost immediately afterward, it pitched down so suddenly that both navigators' helmets bumped against their work tables.
he red ABANDON light between the two navigators' seats snapped on.
Luger reached for the ejection ring with his free hand, but the cabin rolled over to the left so hard that it appeared it was completely flopped on its side. Not only did Luger's left hand never find the ring, but his right hand was flung away from it.
Swearing softly to himself, McLanahan flicked a small lever on the front left corner of his ejection seat. With his right hand, he grabbed the side of his seat and straightened himself up. The shoulder harness inertial reel took up the slack, anchoring McLanahan's back upright in the seat.
His partner, caught completely unawares, was almost bent in half when the cabin swung over to the left. Straining, McLanahan reached across the narrow aisle and locked Luger's shoulder harness. Luger, propelled by rage that surely could be heard outside on the instructor's control panel, hauled himself upright in his seat.
'C'mon, boys,' Major White said, gleefully watching the two navigators struggle on his closed-circuit TV.He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his safety observers and technicians were in place. 'Time's a- wastin'.-.'
The lights in the compartment had gone out. The cabin was lit only by the eerie glow of the ABANDON light, but a few seconds later that too blinked out. The normally quiet hum of the trainer had been replaced by super- amplified sounds of explosions, screeching metal, hissing gas, and more explosions. Smoke began to fill the compartment. White had really laid on the realism this time, McLanahan thought to himself the smoke began to sting his eyes. The cabin pitched over again, rolling slowly to the right and tipping downward.
Luger swore, louder than ever. He crossed his hands, wrapped his fingers around the trigger ring between his legs, s lammed his head back against the headrest, and pulled the ring as if he were doing a biceps curl.
Closing his eyes and grimacing, Luger yelled, 'Damn you, Major Whiiiite. 'McLanahan saw a rectangle of light appear under Luger's seat, and then his partner was gone, blasted clear of the wildlypitching trainer by powerful thrusters. Grunting with satisfaction, McLanahan gripped his own trigger ring, braced himself with his legs and feet, and pulled.
Nothing happened.
It was McLanahan's turn to swear, very loudly, but his actions were immediate. With two quick, fluid jerks, he pulled a yellow ring on either side of his ejection seat, freeing himself of the bulky global survival kit underneath him and popping the connections that held him fast. He reached upward, his blind fingers instantly finding the handhold bolted onto the overhead circuit breaker panel, and hauled himself up and out of the malfunctioned seat. The remains of his lap belt and shoulder harness clattered away.
The trainer was now tilted several degrees to the right, and McLanahan had to scramble for a handhold to keep himself clear of the gaping hole where his partner had been sitting a few moments earlier. He clutched the ladder behind Luger's seat and the catapult railing that had shot Luger's seat down into space.
Like a blind man feeling for a chair, McLanahan carefully maneuvered himself around the catapult railing, propping his feet against the hatch edge, feeling for the rim of the hatch.
The cabin tilted over and down even further, and his helmeted head banged against the side of the open hatch. His parachute felt like a huge concrete block on his back, dragging him closer and closer to the opening. The sounds behind him were deafening.
He was now straddling the open hatch, his feet against the back edge of the opening, his hands on either side, his head staring down through the hatch. There was another terrific explosion inside the cabin. A brilliant white light flashed. With one motion, McLanahan let go of both sides of the hatch. His right hand seized the D-ring ripcord on the harness of his parachute, and his left wrapped around his middle.
He tucked his head down and rolled out through the open hatch, curling his knees up to his chest.
He felt a split-second of weightlessness as he somersaulted out. The next instant he was landing with a loud thunW on the thick nylon safety bag eight feet below. The bag carefully deflated with a loud, relieved sound of gushing air, and McLanahan settled slowly and gently to the floor. The ripcord was in his right hand, and a large green ball that activated his emergency oxygen supply was in his left.
A horn blared somewhere, and several green-uniformed Air Force technicians rushed over to him. McLanahan remained motionless, curled up Re an embryo within the mountainous billows of the safety bag.
'Are you okay, Patrick?' White asked as he helped McLanahan off with his helmet. 'Hurt anywhere?'
McLanahan uncurled himself and stared at the bottom of the trainer cabin looming over him. 'Son of a bitch!'
'You're okay,' White said with an amused Cheshire-cat smile. He helped McLanahan up to his feet and out of his parachute harness.
'You did great,' White asked. 'It took longer for Luger to punch out on his ejection seat than it did for you to manually bail out after you realized your seat had malfunctioned. Most guys never even make it out. If they don't make it within thirty seconds then they never will, especially at low altitude. You did it in fifteen.
White handed him a beer-fortunately it was their last class of the day-and they walked over to an adjacent classroom.
Luger was sprawled on a chair, his flight suit half unzipped one empty beer can near an elbow and another can in his hand: looking rumpled and angry. He scowled at White.
'No more surprises,' he told White. 'I'm telling the whole squadron about your tricks.
'No, you won't,' White said, chuckling. 'I know you, Luger-you'd like me to stick it to your buddies just like I stuck it to you. Besides, if you tell them anything I'll just have to think up some other nasty additions. When was the last time you did a manual bailout?'
Luger started to mutter something but then thought better of it.
'Oh, by the way,' White said, turning to McLanahan. 'You had a phone call from Colonel Wilder's office. Did you get an assignment?'
'Wilder,' McLanahan said. He looked puzzled. 'No, I didn't get an assignment as far as I know.'
'Could be the big time, Muck,' Luger said, finishing his beer with a happy belch. 'I told you, didn't I?
You're going to SAC Headquarters.
I can feel it. The wing king wants to tell you himself.'
'Any other message, sir?' McLanahan asked White.
'No,' White replied. 'You've got an appointment to see him, though.
Tomorrow morning. Seven-thirty In his office.
What assignment did you put in for?'
The puzzled expression still had not left McLanahan's face.
'Hell, the usual wet-dream things a six-year captain puts in for. Air Command and Staff College with a waiver. SAC Headquarters. Numbered Air Force job. B-1s to Ellsworth.
King of Canada. The usual stuff.'
'Well, best of luck,' White asked. 'Always like to see a good man move up.
Outside the trainer building, Luger could hardly contain his enthusiasm as he and McLanahan headed for their cars.
'Man, I knew you'd get your ticket out of here,' Luger asked. 'Hot damn.'
'I don't have anything yet,' McLanahan asked. 'But why is Wilder telling me?'
'Who knows?' Luger asked. 'But, it must be good. If it was bad news he wouldn't wait until tomorrow. Besides, you're Wilder's showpiece, his trophy-producing machine. If Wilder makes general it'll be because of 'Shack' McLanahan.'
Luger looked over at his partner and noticed his faraway look. He frowned.
'Man, you don't believe it can happen, do you,' he said angrily. 'You can't stay here forever, Pat. You've got to decide-' 'I'll decide what I want when I want,' McLanahan interrupted. 'And I don't need any advice from you.'
Luger grabbed McLanahan by the arm. 'Maybe you're right. Maybe you don't need my advice. But I'm your
