the explosion.
'That looked solid,' Sheila said from the backseat. I could hear the relief in her voice.
'Good on putting us back on course,' I said.
I felt the Tomcat burble as it descended, returning to ground from the realm that was rightfully hers. As I started my lineup, I saw the MiG parked on the flight line, heat still wafting off its wings, a bird of prey on the ground.
We ran through the shutdown checklist quickly but thoroughly. An enlisted man mounted the boarding ladder to help us out of our ejection harnesses, and it wasn't until his face was close to mine that I realized he was one of our own.
Sheila left the aircraft first, but I wasn't far behind. I jumped down off the aircraft, skipping the last step, and started my triumphant approach on the waiting gallery. Brent, Sheila's diplomatic trained dog, and Anna, my very own personal Russian spy, were waiting.
As was the MiG pilot, that asshole that had tripped me just after we'd arrived. He wasn't any better looking on the ground than he had been in the air.
'Nice going, buddy,' I said, and offered him my hand. 'Too bad you were off course.'
These Russians, man. What sore losers. The guy spat out a stream of Russian at me and started to grab me. Sheila and Brent intervened. I started toward the guy, then caught sight of Anna's pale, stricken face.
'What, we got some sort of cultural misunderstanding here, Sheila?' I said.
'You think that new boyfriend of yours can explain just what the hell's going on?'
Brent still had one arm on the Russian puke's upper arm. The guy was struggling ? like I said, real sore losers. 'It's you who're going to have to do some explaining, mister. Big-time and now.'
I laughed. 'I'm supposed to let him win? That wasn't part of the deal, no way. If that's what diplomacy is about, then you can just-'
Sheila turned around and clamped one hand over my mouth. Say what you will about the chicks, this one had a grip that wouldn't quit. She found the same spot in my gut that she'd roughed up before and planted her elbow there again. Harder, this time.
'Shut the fuck up, Skeeter, and let me handle this.' When she gets that tone of voice going, she gets dangerous.
I shut up. Sheila turned back to Brent. 'Explain.' At least there was no lovey-dovey stuff in her voice that time.
'Your young hotshot there needs to learn to read a map,' Brent spat out. He jerked back on the Russian one last time, then relinquished his grip to a couple of other Russians. He took a moment to straighten his tie and jacket, and probably unwind the underwear that was in a knot.
'I navigated. I had to make a last-minute course correction to compensate for a SAM site, but we were right back on the proper approach within seconds.' I had a feeling Mr. Smoothy wasn't going to be making much more progress with my backseater.
'Then you made a mistake. There wasn't a SAM site in this scenario.'
'What's the point of it as a tactical test if every possible checkpoint is briefed? That's no way to train,' Sheila shot back. But I could see from the look on her face that our thoughts were running in parallel. Judging from both Brent and Illya Kyrrul's reaction, something hadn't gone right.
More than that. It had gone very, very wrong.
'You were off the briefed approach by more than five miles,' Brent said. He shot me another one of those looks that clearly indicated who he thought was at fault, despite Sheila's explanation. 'Remember, this is a Russian training exercise, not Top Gun school in the States. Every evolution is briefed. No surprises.'
'Then what was with the SAM site?' I asked. Both of them glared at me. Fine. I was flying the damned aircraft and I couldn't ask a simple question?
'You were way out of line,' Brent said. 'You were in the airspace around a research facility. And when you pulled your little jaunt off course, you got even farther away. What you hit was not a target. It was a small agricultural village.'
'No.' Sheila's voice was stunned and cold. I could understand why, if what Brent was saying was true.
But it had to be true, didn't it? After all, he was one of ours. We might expect the Russians to lie to us for some reason, but this gouge was coming from our own people.
'You didn't happen to wonder why there were people walking around outside?' Brent snapped.
'I didn't see anyone,' I said, already feeling like I ought to be able to come up with some sort of plausible alternative explanation. What he was saying just didn't make sense. There was no way that Sheila was that far off the briefed plan, no way. 'And I did a flyby for BDA and I didn't see any indication that that sight was anything other than a good ol' target. Here ? look at the charts.' I started pulling out my briefing sheet from my kneeboard, the handy device that snaps around your upper leg and holds all the mission briefing crap. 'Look.'
Brent brushed the chart away. 'You hit a civilian village. There's no way around that one, mister. And I don't care what you say ? after yesterday, we all know how careful you are about regulations and briefed restrictions.'
'But look.' I tried again, waving the chart around in the hope that I could get someone ? anyone ? to look at the info we'd been given for mission planning, our approach plan, and every other detail. 'Look.'
Stone-cold impassive Russian faces stared back at me. It finally sunk in that no matter how right I felt, Sheila and I were in big big trouble.
'Was… was anyone killed?' Sheila asked. 'How much damage was there?'
Brent studied her for a moment, then shook his head. 'You were lucky.
Everyone was out in the fields, watching for the aircraft to fly by. When they saw you making an approach on their village, they ran. The damage to the structures is pretty bad, but no one was killed.'
I felt a surge of relief, then suspicion. 'Wait ? everyone was out of the houses and buildings? Absolutely everyone? No one stuck in the can, or working overtime, or trying to filch something? Even the crooks were out watching?' My turn to shake my head. 'Doesn't compute, buster. Don't tell me you're buying that load of crap.'
'You bet I am. And you better, too. Because if one person ends up dead, one person seriously injured, there's going to be all hell to pay.
You can count on it. So irregardless of how improbable you find it, you count your lucky stars that they were all outside.'
I was just about to tell him that irregardless isn't really a word ? what he meant was regardless, and if he had any sort of education beyond which fork to use on salad and which one to stick up his butt, he'd know that. I'd almost gotten the last comparison worked out when the Russian pilot got free from his buddies.
Kyrrul bolted past Sheila and Brent like a tornado. I started to move too late.
The first punch landed square in my gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. I doubled over, caught the second punch with the underside of my chin, and felt my feet leave the ground.
Russians were all over us now, pretending that they were trying to pull Illya off of me, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it. Trying to help me up, they kept nailing me in the gut again. Somebody stepped on my fingers, and another one landed a boot in my ribs.
I shouted, and finally made it to my feet. My lungs were starting to work again. Sheila and Brent were peeling the Russians off of me one by one, but making slow progress.
'Stop it. Now.' The voice was so cold it froze every one of us where we stood. It took a moment for it to sink in with me that it was Admiral Magruder.
Another command echoed out in Russian and, if I had to guess, said exactly the same thing. No one was moving now, not even Illya.
I tried to straighten up as Admiral Magruder walked up to me. He might have found a clever way to cover up the altimeter/altitude screw-up, but I had a feeling this one wasn't going to go away that easily. I made it straight enough to at least look like I was standing at attention.
Admiral Magruder bent down close to me. He's a little taller anyway, and I was hunched over. 'Shut up. Not another word, you understand. Follow me.'
I know orders when I hear them, and I was relieved to have to obey those. If he could get me off that flight line without being lynched, I was going to be real grateful. And surprised.
We made an interesting little parade. Admiral Magruder leading, me limping along behind and trying not to
