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“Oh, all sorts of reasons,” Kacey said. “So, how’s the wife?”

“Divorced these last two years,” D’Allaird said. “Which is why I’m working about sixty hours of overtime a week. You’ll understand if I need to get ready for work. I’m with that comedian guy; next time I think about getting married I’ll just buy a house for some woman I can’t stand.”

“Why aren’t you contracting?” Kacey said, quizzically.

“I got really tired of the sandbox,” D’Allaird said. “Tired enough I’m willing to work lots of hours to avoid it. I keep asking… ”

“Business call, honestly,” Kacey finally admitted. “I know someone who needs a contractor. Aircraft engineer. Not in the sandbox. But I’ll also be up-front that whoever takes the job has to be Hind qualified and aware that it may involve getting their ass shot off. The flip side is that the money is good and so are the conditions.”

“Where?” D’Allaird asked.

“You did hear the part about getting your ass shot off, right?” Kacey asked.

“And let me guess who’s flying the bird: the Bobsie Twins.”

“The same,” Kacey admitted.

“Well, now I got to go,” D’Allaird admitted. “If for no other reason than to keep you two out of trouble. I mean, does this place have a brig?”

“Hey, we weren’t going to go to the brig over that,” Kacey said.

“Yes we were,” Tammie replied, not looking up from her manual.

“The most was going to happen was off flying status for a while,” Kacey protested.

“Tammie doesn’t think so,” D’Allaird said. “And I keep asking… ”

“The country of Georgia,” Kacey replied. “Out in the boonies but nice facilities. A general contractor. I have the feeling it’s a good idea to keep a bag packed. I’m not sure of the pay for you, but they’re paying us great and we said we had to have a chief, a good one. We actually need two. We may be flying solos. And it’s Hind Js.”

“The new Czech bird,” D’Allaird said with a whistle. “Sweet. I’ve been reading up on the specs. I’m in. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on one of those. Screw these damned Lynx and Rangers, I’m sick to death of Lynx and Rangers.”

“Hope you’ve got a passport,” Kacey said. “I’ll have somebody contact you about travel arrangements. And keep an eye out for another body.”

“Male or female?” D’Allaird asked.

“Makes no diff,” Kacey said. “The guy who’s hiring us, a Mr. Jenkins also called ‘The Kildar’, doesn’t seem to care. But who ever it is had better be open-minded. The arrangements are kind of… odd.”

“Better and better,” D’Allaird said. “I’m tired as hell of same old. I’ll be waiting for the call.”

“See you soon, chief,” Kacey said, cutting the connection.

“Another lamb to the slaughter,” Tammie said. “This thing is either sweet as hell or the Czechs let their marketing department write the -1.”

“Marketing departments always write the -1s,” Kacey said. “Tomorrow we just get to find out if it’s an honest marketing department.”

* * *

“Power up, softly, softly… ”

Kacey didn’t know if the Czechs had intentionally supplied one cute as hell instructor pilot or not, but Marek Kalenda was hot. Older than she usually liked, probably pushing a very in-shape fifty, but still hot. Nice voice, too. Resonant. Of course, it would help if she paid attention to flying.

“Good, hold it,” Marek said. “Feel her. Nice isn’t she?”

“I’m only at 23% power,” Kacey replied. “This thing is, if anything, over muscled.”

“There is no such thing as too much power in a helicopter,” Marek said. “I was asked when they were looking at the new Bells if, perhaps, that was not too much power for the Hind. No, I told them. What is that American show, the man is always saying ‘More power!’?”

“Home Improvement,” Kacey said with an unseen grin. The Hind, unlike Hueys and Hawks, was a tandem rig. The pilot sat back, the co or gunner sat forward. Currently, Marek was forward. “Tim Allen.”

“Yes, More Power,” Marek agreed. “That was also a command. Bring her out of ground hover if you please. Slowly.”

Kacey poured on more power without disturbing any of the other controls. She, of course, had to tap the rear-rotor controls to keep the aircraft straight, but otherwise she kept it “as is” with the exception of power. The helicopter went straight up with only a slight side-to-side yaw as she got the feel for the rear rotor.

“Very nice,” Kacey said. “I’m at forty percent. And out of ground effect, unless I’m much mistaken.”

“Yes, but of course we are empty,” Marek pointed out. “At height, with a full load? You will be pushing the red-line. But I will tell you something that is not in the -1, yes? I have force tested this bird and engines. The red-line on the engines is conservative. You have about twenty percent more power when you are red. But you must yank the engines after the mission, yes?”

“Twenty percent’s a lot of power,” Kacey said. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because we have some customers who, shall we say, are not as professional as you,” Marek said with a sigh. “If some son of an Arab sheik goes down we like to be able to point out that he was not supposed to redline the aircraft’s engine continually. Better still if he has the smidgeon of sense to only touch the redline and still survive. At absolute full power the engines will eventually fail. But for an emergency… the power is there.”

“Good to know,” Kacey said.

“Now that we have taken this time for you to feel the bird and prove you can talk at the same time, you may push forward slightly on the stick. Your bird, ma’am.”

“My bird,” Kacey replied, pushing forward on the stick and increasing power to the engines unconsciously. She started to grin as the bird slid forward like it was on greased rails and lifted into the air. The mass of the Hind had always made it fly like a pig and they usually didn’t hover for shit. Now, with the overpowered engines, it was like driving a really nice sports car, one of the ones that hugged the road like a limpet. Smooth didn’t begin to describe it. “Oh. My. God.”

“I thought you would like this, yes,” Marek said with obvious satisfaction in his voice. “We at Czech Airframes like satisfied customers. Satisfied customers are repeat customers.”

“Oh, I’m satisfied,” Kacey said. “This bird can fly.”

Chapter Nineteen

“USAF Flight 1157,” Second Lt. Kevin Ferlazzo said when the “incoming satellite call” light started blinking on his console.

USAF Flight 1157 was a MC-130 Special Operations (Electronic) aircraft Tail Number ///number/// from the 47th Squadron out of Moody Air Force Base in Valdosta, Georgia. 1157, crew of five, was currently on a compassionate mission delivering relief supplies to Azerbaijan, motoring along on cruise control over the nation of Ukraine, which from 30,000 feet looked a lot like Kansas. A recent earthquake had left dozens of mountain villages in Azerbaijan devastated and cut off with winter on-coming. About half of the cargo consisted of cattle feed donated by the American Cattleman’s Association. The rest was general relief supplies including MRE style “relief meals”, tents, blankets and clothing.

Lt. Ferlazzo, the electronics warfare officer of the aircraft (and as he thought of it “designated receptionist”), hadn’t planned on becoming a relief worker when he’d graduated from the United States Air Force Academy and wondered about the efficiency of using a top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art, special operations, electronics warfare aircraft that cost $8000 per hour to run to deliver hay-bales. However, nobody but nobody asked a second lieutenant what he thought except his mother.