It took an hour to get the acceptances signed then the crew mounted up. As the cockpit closed Kozlowski leaned forward slightly and patted the control console in front of him. “Hi Xiomara. I’m Mike, your pilot. Eddy is in the Bear’s Den and Xav is sitting back there in the Electronics Pit. Welcome to the team.”
Silence.
Retraining for the RB-58F had been fairly limited for Korrina and Dravar, the front end of the systems they worked with was virtually unchanged. Eddie’s job was actually easier, the old layout of two radars had been replaced by a superior multi-mode adaptation of the ASG-18. Kozlowski’s workload was also much less without the elaborate control systems for the afterburners. That didn’t decrease the list of pre-flight checks of course, they got longer every year. Sometimes Kozlowski thought that if the Wright Brothers had flown for SAC, they’d still be doing pre-flight checks. Eventually, they started up and moved along to the taxiway, the undercarriage bumping as it hit the panel joins in the concrete. Soon, they were at the runway end, ready for take-off clearance.
“Just a shuttle flight today Xiomara so we can all get used to each other. We’ll start real training next week,”
“Where are we going?” The voice was different from Marisol’s brash assertiveness. It was quieter, more mature somehow. In the Bear’s Den, Korrina gave a thumbs up and all of him he heard Dravar give a muted cheer. In the cockpit, Kozlowski relaxed slightly, he’d been afraid he’d speak to his aircraft and nobody would answer.
“We’re taking you home, Bunker Hill Air Force Base. Isn’t that long a flight, not for you. We’ll be supercruising at Mach 2.8 and 75,000 feet most of the way. You’re the first F-model in the 305th so you’ll be getting a lot of visitors over the next few days. But, once we’re home. I’ll introduce you to your ground crew and we’ll get to work. We’ve got a lot to catch up on. While we were away in Italy, a group of cowboys from the 45th stole our Angel Eyes Shield and we’ve got to get it back.”
There was a chuckle on the intercom system. “We can’t let them get away with that, can we? Mike, take me home. I’m Xiomara, fly me.”
EPILOGUE
Bang Na-Phitsan Palace, Bangkok, Thailand
“This place is beautiful, Madam Ambassador. I’d never have even guessed it existed or that we are in the middle of the city. How do you do it? Is this your home?”
“When we rebuild an area of the city, Mister President, we put modern high-rise buildings all along the main roads and we put them close together. This leaves areas in the center of each block that are screened from the noise and pollution of the city. They are shaded by the buildings and we use the old canal system to make sure they are watered. They give the city lungs, allow it to breathe and permit us to get away from modern life, back to where we are comfortable. You perhaps noted that the way into this compound was unmarked and deliberately unobtrusive.”
That, LBJ thought, was an understatement. The walled house had been reached through a battered and peeling wooden gate at the end of a sordid alleyway. He7d actually wondered what was going on until the gate had opened and he’d seen the exquisite garden within. Then he’d seen the complex of ornately carved and enameled teak buildings. They’d been modernized, inside they were wholly 1960s with air conditioning and electrical power, yet outside still looked like something from centuries ago. It wasn’t really a single house, more a series of small residences interconnected by doors, paths, and passageways.
“This is my family’s home, in a way, Mister President, and in another it is not. This is really a Royal Palace, a small one of course, that was loaned to my family for our use. Originally it was built for the Royal Family of Phitsanulok to use when they came to this city. But, once they had no further use for it, my family was awarded its loan as a mark of Royal favor. My family has served the Kingdom for many generations you see.”
“May I ask how long have your family lived here?”
“About six hundred years Mister President.”
Next to the President, Ladybird Johnson choked briefly on her drink. Silently, a maid moved forward, cleaned up the spill and replaced the glass with a freshly-filled one.
“In a way, the Palace predates the city. When it was first built, there was no city here at all, just a small river port on the other side of the river. But, you may have noticed, the way the Chaophrya curls around this part of the city, this is a very easy spot to defend, it has river on three sides and the fourth is narrow and fortified. So many members of the ruling classes built homes on the ground protected by the river loop. When the Burmese destroyed Ayuthya in 1792, the survivors gathered here and a new capital city grew up around their compounds. In this part of the city, there are still quite a few Palaces like this one, tucked away where visitors seldom go.”
“Six hundred years.” Ladybird Johnson was still trying to grasp the idea of a family that had lived in the same home for all those centuries. “And your family was always in Royal service?”
“Always First Lady, always. My own position is hereditary, handed down from mother to daughter.” Unseen in the shadows, the Seer looked down and grinned broadly at that. “One day I will retire into privacy and spend my old age trying to make merit, to offset the price of some of the things I have done. Then, Sir Eric, I hope that you will give my daughter the same wise counsel and precious advice that you have always given me.”
Sir Eric Haohoa started. He’d been leaning back in his seat, enjoying the cool of the evening. Now, he almost overbalanced backwards. ‘‘Your daughter Ma’am? I didn’t even know you were married. Is she here? Docs she look like you?”
“I’m not.” The Ambassador gave him a dazzling, friendly smile. “And I am afraid my daughter is away, learning the things she must know if she is to take over my duties one day. But I am sure that she does look very much like me. All the women in our family have a close resemblance, I am told it is something to do with the genes in the female line of my family being very dominant. But tell me Sir Eric. How is the President’s new Chief-of-Staff settling in?”
“Very well Ma’am, very well indeed. Sir Martyn taught him all he could and Sir Pandit Nehru has built upon his lessons. He has Sir Martyn’s style even so. Sir Martyn is greatly missed but his legacy is safe and secure.”
“And what a legacy.” LBJ’s voice was soft with respect. “In a single lifetime he rebuilt one of the largest countries in the world, turned it from a poor, undeveloped and ill-fed colony into one of the great countries of the world. I wish that I could be remembered in such a way. Instead I will be remembered as the man whose actions ended the Pax Americana. I’d never thought of it that way, not until I read one of the commentaries. There are people in my party who called the Pax Americana ruling the world by terror. Chalk was one of them; I think his long-term goal was to so tie us up in international treaties that we couldn’t keep the peace by ourselves. Pax Americana, it had a nice ring to it. Now it’s gone.”
“We had a good run Mister President, and it had to end sometime. As for us ruling by terror, that’s a phrase for the terminally bewildered. The truth is, for twenty years we kept the peace and we did it with less overt use of force than any other nation in our position. Even the British had their small wars after all and they kept the peace as well. Give them credit; they did pretty well for a lot longer than we did. But it was a simpler world back then,”