by Dale Brown
formation on the women he didn't recognize. He was a master at making each and every bachelorette feel special and welcome without alienating or favoring any of them.
He was in the middle of yet another introduction when a newcomer caught his eye-and he found his legendary cool suddenly fizzle.
What was it about Annie Dewey that excited him? he wondered. There were plenty of great looking women here, most of them not in the Air Force; many of them had successful entrylevel or mid-level managerial careers, and a couple of them were better-looking than Annie. He couldn't quite identify what it was that attracted him to her.
Annie was trim and athletic, bordering on thin--4ypical Air Force. Concerned that she would be discriminated against by other Air Force pilots because women did not have as much upper-body strength as men, Annie had changed her exercise regime to include more upper-body strength sports such as rock climbing and volleyball. The difference showed: Dev noticed well-defined shoulders, back, and arms, tapering down to a thin waist, tight butt, and shapely legs. She did not have very big breasts, but the rest of the package more than made up for that.
It was his opinion that other men saw her physique, her many female friends and far fewer male friends, and her profession, and assumed Annie was gay. Truthfully, Dev had thought so, too--or else he had never really thought too much about her at all. But then he'd started noticing her and the HAWC chief of aerospace engineering, Colonel David Luger, together all the time, and he'd noticed that little whatever-itwas about her come alive. That's what had made whatever attracted him to her ignite.
And, he noticed, Luger wasn't with her tonight. She was dressed nicely, in a silky form-fitting dress with thin spaghetti straps, sandals, and a little gold ankle bracelet on her right ankle. Her light brown hair was up, as usual, but in a Right suit it made her look a little butch-in that dress, it exposed her thin neck and well-defined shoulders, making her look even more attractive. He looked hard without trying to stare to see if she was wearing a brassiere, and realized with a faint shock
that she wasn't. She was so buff that very little beneath that silky dress jiggled at all.
What was it about her? It wasn't pure sexuality, although she certainly was sexy. Allure, Dev thought, that's what it was. Allure. She was alluring. She was obviously looking for something or someone in her life, but she was willing to stay out of the spotlight and wait until she found it. Dev definitely sensed a deep, smoldering passion inside her. Even if she had been gay, she still would've had that animal allure about her-now that he realized she probably wasn't, it made him think even more about the possibilities of unleashing some of that passion in his direction.
He hoped to hell Luger wasn't her type. To be honest, Dev had no idea whose type Luger could be. He seemed a nice enough guy, just a little detached, distracted, out of place. Annie had some kind of connection with him. Either she saw something in that weird engineer from Texas, or she was throwing a pity party for him. A romantic connection? Luger didn't seem the type. Maybe he was the gay one.
"Heels!" Dev said, as their eyes met. Most everyone at the squadron knew everyone else by their call sign-it was unusual for someone to use their Christian names in casual conversation. He came over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then reached up and squeezed her shoulders in his hands. Good God, he thought, I wish I had shoulders that tight. "Thanks for coming."
"Thanks for inviting us."
She used the word "us," Dev noticed, but she was alone. Her voice told him that she was disappointed at not being an us" at the party. "'Where's Colonel Luger?"
"Still out at the lake," Annie said. They called Elliott Air Force Base, near dry Groom Lake, the "lake" when away from there. "Sorry he can't make it."
"I know he has a pretty important test coming up," Dev said. "Those HAWC guys get obsessed when a big test is happening. They all seem to disappear into their little rabbit holes, afraid to do anything that might screw things up. Problem is, they're always like that, even when they've done good."
"They're not exactly party animals," Annie agreed. She
looked around the room, then at him, then around to the pool area.
"I hope you brought your suit," Dev said. "The pool is nice and cool, and
the hot tub will be perfect once it starts to cool down outside."
"I should have brought a suit, but I didn't."
Dev was going to give her his standard line, "Well, you know, around here, bathing suits are optional," but for some reason he didn't use it on Annie. Was he afraid of offending her, chasing her away? He was amazed at his own odd feelings. Since when did he care so much about what others, especially women, thought of him?
"We can get you a suit if you'd like to go swimming later," Dev offered, "or just take a rain check." She smiled at himhe was pleased to think he had said the right thing, caring and helpful without being too pushy. "Can I get you something to drink? I make a pretty good margarita. I'm doing mango and strawberry tonight."
"I'm not into that stuff," she said. That was the first hint of resistance from her, and his hopes sank. But then she suddenly stopped looking past him, took a deep breath as if she had just decided something, and said, "But if you're making margaritas, I know you have tequila, and I see some Coronas around, so I'll start with a shot and a Corona." She looked directly at him with incredible liquid blue eyes that looked like they could stop a freight train in its tracks, and asked, "Care to join me?"
Dev smiled and nodded. "Best offer I've had all day," he said.
The party had ended just before midnight, but for Dev and Annie' it was only getting started.
They stayed and talked well after everyone else had gone. They both quit drinking shots before too long, but had nursed their Coronas and then white wine and San Pellegrino. After one A.M. the apartment complex residents stopped coming down to the pool and hot tub, so they decided to give the hot tub a try.
The pool deck was dark, illuminated only by a few sidewalk
edge lights, step lights, and the parking lot lights several dozen yards away. Both Dev and Annie wore bathrobes, and carried plastic cups of Chardonnay to the spa. The hot, dry desert air cooled quickly after sunset, and there was a breeze blowing, so it felt much cooler now. "Man, I've been in the hot sun all day, but I'm ready for the hot tub," Dev was saying. He turned on the bubble pumps, set his wine down on the concrete deck, shed the robe, revealing his black Nike bathing suit underneath, then sat on the edge of the spa and let his feet dangle in to test the water. "Perfect," he said. He took a sip of wine. "I'm glad you could-2'
He stopped and gulped. Annie took off her borrowed bathrobe-revealing only her birthday suit. Her breasts were indeed small, but larger than they appeared beneath her dress, and incredibly firm. Her shoulders and arms were not just welltoned-they were ripped, as were her stomach and thigh muscles, lean, taut, and striated. She watched him closely as she eased into the warm bubbly water with a confident, satisfied smile on her face.
."I-I hung a bathing suit on the doorknob for you," he reminded her.
11 1 know. I saw it. Thank you," she said. "That was a very considerate thing to do. You don't mind I didn't use it, do you, Dev?"
"Are you kid ... I mean, no, not at all, Heels." She leaned back, her elbows back on the edge of the spa with her breasts tantalizingly obscured within the bubbles on the water's surface, and sipped her wine. He felt like a dork now, with a bathing suit on, so after he got into the hot tub, he slipped it off and placed it on the edge of the tub.
After several long moments, he stopped trying to get a look at her breasts and relaxed. As always, his attention drifted up to the sky. The nearby buildings and the lights from the parking lot washed out most of the sky, but he could still see a few stars shimmering overhead. "Finally starting to see the summertime constellations," he said. "That's Vega, in the constellation Lyra. You can just start to see the head of Scorpio down over the building."
"Must be a navigator thing, having to lea
rn all the stars and constellations," Annie said.
"They still taught celestial navigation in nav school when I went through," Dev said, "although they phased it out shortly after I left. They taught us how to use a sextant, do a precomp--figure out what the star positions are supposed to beshoot the stars, sun, and moon, and plot a celestial, pressure,
and speed line of position. Get two good star shots with a small bubble and a steady autopilot, add in a good pressure LOP and a true airspeed line from a good air data system, and a good nav could plot your position within five to ten miles."
"Five to ten miles?" Annie exclaimed.
"I know-ridiculous, huh?" Deverill agreed. "The absolute worst inertial nav system back then could keep you within a mile or two with an update every thirty minutes. Nowadays, the worst INS gets you within a quarter-mile with one update, and GPS can get us within six feet. But it was pretty amazing to think that navs throughout history fought wars across the oceans with little more than a star to guide them. It's a lost art. 11
"Show me what you're looking at," Annie said. She picked up her cup of wine and waded over to him, turned around, and sat beside him, then leaned back against his chest. It both shocked and pleased him at the same time. The damned bubbles still obscured her breasts. He put his left arm around her shoulder and across her neck, clasping her right shoulder, and he could feel her nipples against his arm. Stars, Dev, he shouted at himself, think of stars now, celestial navigation, precomps, star tables, air almanacs ...
"Now, what were you looking at?" she murmured. Her head was tilted back against him, the back of her head in the water, but she wasn't looking at the stars.
"I was trying to look at you," he said softly, and he bent down to kiss her lips. A bolt of electricity shot through his body, the physiological responder he was trying hard to distract sprang to life, and he kissed her deeper, harder. She returned the kiss, then took his hand from her shoulder and placed it on her breast. "God, Annie, you are so sexy." She said nothing, but her right hand drifted down to his stomach, then his thigh, and
then to his fully attentive and waiting member. She stroked him a couple times. He moaned with pleasure ... and then realized she had stopped. "Annie, please. . . "
"I can't, Dev," she whispered. She reluctantly twisted away from him, moved away from him-not to the other side of the spa out of reach, but definitely apart from him-and laid her head back on the edge of the spa and covered her face. "I'm sorry, Dev. It is not you, believe me ... believe me."
"Then what is it?" But he knew the answer the second he asked the question: "Luger. You're in love with him or something."
"Or something," she said. "I wanted to, but ... I don't want this to turn into a retribution thing."
"You mean, sleeping with me just to get back at Luger." Annie nodded. "I'm sorry, Dev. I mean, you're greatlooking, and you got a great bod, and you got the.eyes, and the butt .... 91
"Wow. Women really talk like that about guys?"
"Only certain guys," she said, with a smile. He liked her wann, honest smile. He'd never thought of her as a friend before, only as a colleague and maybe a future conquests but now he was talking to her like a friend, and he enjoyed it. He still wanted to see her underneath him or on top of him, but it wasn't an urgent need anymore.
"So what's the story with you two?"
"What's to tell?" she replied. "I fell for him, I thought he fell for me. But he's got his work, and that's pretty much his whole life right now."
"You said 'right now' like you don't really believe it." She looked at Dev, angry that he'd said it-and angry that he was right. "Listen, Annie, if you say women talk about men like I know men talk about women, then men and women are more alike than they are different, right?" Annie said nothing. "So the only thing you can be certain about is that you can't change a guy. Dave Luger will be the same as long as he wants to be, as long as whatever he gets out of work is more important or more pleasurable than what he gets from other people. It sucks, but that's the way it is."
"So what do I do about it?"
"Annie, everybody does the same thing," Deverill said earnestly. "You're here in this hot tub for the same reason that Colonel Luger is there in the lab-because whatever you're looking for here, whatever you hoped to find
here, is better than waiting alone in your apartment for a man who will probably never come."
"If I want to be here, then why do I feel so bad about it?" "Because you have feelings," he replied. "You care about him. You care about what he might think. But you have to trust yourself. Trust your feelings." He paused, regarding her thoughtfully, then asked softly, "You love him, don't you?" "Yes.,,
"You probably haven't slept with him, but you love him anyway." She was going to say something angry at him, but she couldn't-because, dammit, he was right. "Maybe it's the real thing, then," he went on. "Maybe you feel guilty because you don't really want to be here."
"I should follow my feelings, then."
"Absolutely." She rubbed her eyes, then hid them. It seemed as if she was embarrassed to be sitting there with him, afraid she was showing how stupid and naive she was. He drained his wine, then reached for his bathrobe, preparing to leave. "Shall we?"
"Yes." But instead of leaving, Annie put her hand on his arm, firmly, forbidding him to move. She moved close to him, her face a little fearful but excited at the same time, and she reached under the surface of the bubbling water and found him. Despite their very serious, very nonsexual discussion, it sprang instantly back to life like the trouper it was.
"Annie?" "You said follow my instincts," she said. She crouched. above him, still holding him, then kissed him warmly, deeply, as she maneuvered herself onto him. "I'm following my instincts. This ... is ... where I want to be, right ... now."
TWO
NeMs Air Force Base, north of Las Vegas, Nevada Several days later
"Jee-sus, look at those suckers haul ass!
It.seemed as if the entire crowd of about two thousand onlookers said the very same thing as two sleek aircraft came into view on final approach to Nellis Air Force Base's main runway. Even from ten miles out, they were clearly visible. Yet unlike most large aircraft, such as airliners or military jet transports, this aircraft didn't seem to be flying slower than normal-in fact, like the fighter jets that escorted it, it seemed to be going very fast indeed.
It used the NATO nickname "Backfire." But in the Republic of Ukraine it was known as "Speka," meaning "heat," and that described the Tupolev-22M perfectly. It looked like a very large jet fighter or a small, compact bomber, with a long pointed nose, sleek lines, variable-geometry "swing" wings, and two very big, very noisy afterburning engines. It carried a wide range of weapons, including all of the Commonwealth of Independent States' air-launched weapons. It had half the payload of the B- I bomber, but much greater speed and range; and it was air-refuelable, which meant it could attack targets anywhere on the planet on short notice with minimal support. It was sleek, fast, powerful, and even sexy-looking. All of these factors made the Backfire bomber arguably one of the world's most devastating attack planes.
There were many reasons for Ukraine not to have anything to do with the Backfires, or any expensive offensive weapon
system, for that matter. Ukraine, the largest and most populous ex-Soviet republic besides Russia, had one of the smallest gross national products in industrialized Europe--every bit of its industrial output was needed to maintain its fragile existing infrastructure and maintain a modicum of a decent life for its citizens, with hardly anything left over for exports, long-term capital improvement, or warfighting. Despite its geographical and strategic importance, Ukraine spent a fraction of what other countries its size spent on defense, and it would be difficult to maintain the fleet of relatively high-tech planes.
Upon splitting off from the Commonwealth, Ukraine's entire strategic attitude had changed as well. Ukraine declared itself a "nuclear-free" country, isolated itself from the ethnic and economic turmoil
engulfing most of eastern Europe
and the Russian enclaves, and resisted joining any outside military alliance. Ukraine had few outside enemies except for its tenuous relationship with its former parent, Russia, so the longrange supersonic Backfires had been considered nothing more than a useless, dangerous money pit. In fact, plenty of countries, including several Middle East countries, had offered as much as one billion dollars each in hard currency for the planes. So they had been too expensive to fly, not apparently vital to the security of Ukraine, and worth billions in badly needed cash.
But times quickly changed, and Ukraine had found it could no longer afford to live in splendid isolation. Russia became more and more reactionary and more aggressive against its former Soviet republics, increasing the pressure on its neighbors to join the new Commonwealth-what many saw as the rebirth of the Soviet empire-or suffer its wrath. When Ukraine had refused to renew its membership in the Commonwealth and at the same time applied for membership in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, Russia had exploded.
In 1995, Russia had staged a series of deadly attacks against military bases in several of its former republics, including Moldova, Lithuania, and Ukraine. Russia had called these bases "suspected terrorist training facilities" and threats against Russia and the Commonwealth of Independent States, and had accused their former republics of persecuting ethnic Russians.
The Russian attacks had been swift and devastating. Only when Russia had attacked NATO warships on the Black Sea had anyone tried to oppose the Russian war machine. Rebecca Furness, at the time the first female combat pilot in the United States Air Force, and her tiny Air Force Reserve unit from Plattsburgh, New York, had flown a series of precision strike raids deep into Russia that had helped stop the conflict before it flared into a general east European thermonuclear war. Patrick McLanahan, flying the original EB-52 Megafortress, had done the same in defending Lithuania against attacks by neighboring Belarus and Russia.