“Mr. Kulikauskas, I do not defile the name of the Grand Duke — I honor it,” Palcikas said. “The men in my unit who wear the Vytis have sworn an oath, with one hand on the Bible and one hand on the Sword of State, to protect this nation.”
“What do you know about honor, or fidelity, or—”
“We follow the very same ritual of training and service, and swear the very same oath, as King Gediminas prescribed in centuries past,” Palcikas said. “The training period is two years, as it was then. Major Kolginov accomplished the additional rigors of naturalization before performing the training, and he has earned the right to receive the Sword and make the oath. You are a veteran: if you wish to view this ritual at Trakai, you may do so as my guest. The next full moon, be at Trakai at eleven P.M. The ritual begins at midnight.” Kolginov produced a memo sheet with instructions for the castle guard. Palcikas signed it, handed it over to the old man, and turned to depart.
Anna Kulikauskas met up with the two officers outside. “That was a good thing you did for my father,” she said. “He is somewhat of a student of history.”
“As am I,” Palcikas said. “Please be sure he submits a full report on the damage, and advise me when my men can come over to rebuild your damaged farm.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Although I must admit this is a side of the military I have not seen. Are you sure you’re not doing all this because of who I am?”
“I didn’t know who owned this farm before I knocked on your door,” Palcikas replied. “I give all our people equal attention, and what I do is what I do — I’m not quick enough to put on an act for everyone I see who I think might be an opinion leader. But I hope at least I’ve changed your attitude about the military — and about myself — a bit.”
He knew she was controversial, a firebrand, even potentially dangerous to the continued existence of the Iron Wolf Brigade. Besides being a strong advocate for a completely demilitarized Lithuania and complete neutrality, with no more than regional police units to offer protection, she also advocated no military ties to any other nation or organization. But somehow that didn’t really matter now.
“I’m not convinced that all military commanders are as caring and as sensitive as you appear,” she admitted. “But yes, I’m willing to look a little harder for the good in everyone, even a man with a uniform and a gun.” She paused, her eyes scanning the road that the Byelorussian soldiers used to depart the farm. “Will those Commonwealth troops be back?”
“I don’t think so,” Palcikas replied. “If they do return, notify my office at once. We must begin assembling a case against them for the government to take to the United Nations. It’s obvious there are numerous violations of the transitional treaty. As for the helicopter crash, I will send an investigation team of my own to get your statement and one from your father, and anyone else that was here.”
“We saw nothing,” Anna said. She looked at her father, who stared at his daughter with questioning eyes, then turned toward Palcikas with defiance. To Palcikas, there was an unspoken message between father and daughter, heard and felt all too much in Palcikas’ career: Don’t get involved. Stay out of it. If they did see something last night, and the odds were good that they did, they were not going to volunteer the information.
“I would appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Kulikauskas, Miss Kulikauskas. If you have anything that I might find useful, anything at all, please notify me at once. Good day.” He and Kolginov departed.
Outside, Kolginov had just finished signaling for the Mil-8 to return. “Well? They give you anything on the crash?”
“No, but they know something — they probably saw the whole thing,” Palcikas said irritably. “A helicopter gun battle, unidentified planes flying low, reports of bomb blasts — they saw something. Hopefully, after their corral is rebuilt, they’ll be a bit more helpful.”
“At least the follow-up interviews will be a pleasure,” Kolginov said with a smile. He looked at Palcikas and saw the trace of a thin smile on his lips. “I see you thought so too. It’s funny — when she’s on the podiums or on the evening news, she looks like a crackpot. In person, she’s quite attractive and—”
“I think you need a dunk in the Salantai River,” Palcikas said. “You’re overheating.”
“And you weren’t, General?” Kolginov said with a laugh.
“You’re crazy, Alexei.”
“You’re right, of course, sir. What would a woman like that see in an old war horse like you?”
“Thank God your ritual days are approaching,” Palcikas said. “There’s nothing like some good old-fashioned debasement and sacrifice to instill discipline in a man.”
The Mil-8 swung overhead, translating to the touchdown area, but Palcikas flashed a sign to the pilot. Instead of landing, the crew chief on board threw the rappelling rope out the portside cargo hatch, and the pilot brought the aircraft to a hover about ten meters above ground. “Up you go, Major,” Palcikas said.
“What? You want me to climb up, under a hovering helicopter?”
“You are the expert on love, I am the expert in soldiering,” Palcikas said with a laugh as the sound of the rotors overhead nearly drowned out his voice. “We’ll see who has the greater power. Follow me!” At that, Palcikas gave a loud cry, jumped onto the rope, and began climbing. In less than thirty seconds he was on-board the helicopter and waving for Kolginov to follow.
But as he leaned out the cargo door watching his young aide pull himself up the rope, he caught a glimpse of Anna Kulikauskas watching them from inside the house. Her hand was upraised, and he thought he saw her wave at him. It was hard to tell if she did, but the thought of her doing so made something stir within him.
The scale aircraft model, ten meters in length and almost the same in width, dominated the conference room on the second floor of the main research center of the sprawling Fisikous Institute. The model, hanging from hydraulic arms a few meters above the conference table, looked nothing like a conventional plane. Its wings were undulating curves tapering to narrow points; its body was blended into the wings, giving it a huge manta-ray appearance. Its cockpit windows were narrow slits on the upper side near the pointed nose. Two sharply angled vertical stabilizers jutted out of the tail section, atop narrow engine exhausts.
The Fisikous Institute of Technology was one of perhaps a dozen government aircraft-design bureaus in the former Soviet Union. Like the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center (HAWC) the U.S. government had in Nevada, Fisikous was an ultrasecret, highly classified development center that the official Soviet government never officially or publicly acknowledged. Normally, products developed in the compound housing the Fisikous labs in Lithuania went to one of the other major design bureaus-Sukhoi, Mikoyan-Gureyvich, or Tupolev, among others-in Moscow for incorporation in their designs. This radical aircraft was one of Fisikous’ first designed from the wheels up by the Lithuanian lab itself, and it was one of the most important — it was the Soviet Union’s first stealth bomber, designed to avoid detection by advanced radar systems.
One of the scientists gathered in the room activated a switch on a console at his seat, which rotated the model along its longitudinal axis so that the two vertical stabilizers could be clearly seen by all. “The tailplane on the Fisikous-170 stealth bomber is an all-moving, hydraulically operated fly-by-light control surface, made of all composite materials,” Dr. Pyotr Fursenko, the senior project scientist, said, continuing his informal talk about the newest changes in his design. “It provides stability in all three axes of flight — yaw, roll, and pitch. In addition, the tailplanes can be retracted downwards toward the fuselage, like so.” He hit another switch and the vertical stabilizers lowered until they were almost flush with the aft end of the weird-looking model. “This can be done during several phases of flight, but mostly during high-speed portions of a mission at either high or low altitude, when normal pitch-and-roll control can be accomplished by the mission-adaptive wing structure. The stabilizers are quite strong in their fully extended position, and their composite construction increases radar cross-section by only one one-thousandth of a percent — far less than the radar return from the pilot’s helmet through the cockpit windscreen.”