Rebecca was the commander of the 111th Bombardment Squadron of the Nevada Air National Guard, the only unit in the United States flying the EB-1C aerial battleship. Until their new base was built in Battle Mountain, Nevada, her little unit of six EB-1C bombers was temporarily located at Tonopah Test Range, or TTR, in western Nevada inside the Nellis range complex.
She had first met Sivarek just a few years earlier, during the Russian-Ukrainian conflict, when a power-mad Russian president had tried to reunite parts of the old Soviet Union by force. The Russians had used the pretext of Russian citizens being abused by governments in former republics to send the Russian Army in to reoccupy the republic. When Ukraine had put up a fiercer than expected resistance, Russia had retaliated with tactical nuclear weapons. The United States, fearful of allowing the conflict to escalate to an all-out nuclear war, had sent in only a few tactical air units to Turkey, including an Air Force Reserve unit from Plattsburgh, New York — Rebecca Furness’s old unit, flying the RF-111G Vampire bomber, the first iteration of Rebecca’s EB-1C Megafortress flying battleship.
Although Rebecca’s unit had acquitted itself well in several skirmishes against the Russians, the general feeling was that NATO and the United States had let their Turkish allies down. Several bases in Turkey and several warships had been destroyed by Russian attacks, yet the United States had refused to commit sizable forces against Russia. Only the heroism of Rebecca’s tiny unit, and the desperate bravery of what was left of the Ukrainian Air Force, had prevented an all-out war — and saved Turkey.
“It is indeed a small world. I am glad you kept up with your Turkish. Agzina siglik! Health to your mouth.”
“Tesekkur edetim, efendim,” Rebecca replied, giving him a slight bow. “Biraz konusuyorum. And that’s about all I remember.”
Sivarek clapped his hands in approval. “So, what unit are you with?”
“I’m with the Nevada Air National Guard,” Rebecca replied. Sivarek noted with considerable interest that Rebecca did not go into any details. “We’re participating in some of the exercises with your squadron and the Ukrainians.”
“Very good. I noticed your air force does not fly the RF-111s anymore. I would have welcomed the chance to try our hands at them.” He nodded toward the Tupolev-22M Backfire bomber. “Those whales will be no trouble for us.”
“They might have some surprises for you.”
“We have encountered them before, over the Black Sea on training flights and patrols,” Sivarek said. “The Ukrainians seem unsure about pushing them to their full capability. It is understandable, I suppose. But I hope NATO is not counting on them for much.”
“Maybe we can help them improve their tactics.”
Sivarek nodded, his face darkening again, his lips thinning in frustration. “Your new friends in eastern Europe, I suppose,” he said. “Turkey has been coming here to Red Flag and other exercises for over twenty years, but it seems as if we get little respect from the United States regarding affairs in our region. But when Ukraine wants to play NATO warriors, the world comes running.”
“I think that’s not quite accurate,” Rebecca said. But she knew he was at least partially correct. During the Russia-Ukraine conflict, Turkey had suffered tremendous loss of life and property, but afterward relations between Turkey and the West had mostly gone back to the way they were, as if the conflict had never happened at all. Instead of rushing in to help Turkey modernize its military, NATO’s easternmost ally had been left to rebuild and rearm by itself, with no more than ordinary levels of support and cooperation from the United States or NATO.
“You are a loyal American officer,” Sivarek said with a smile. “I would have liked very much for you to have stayed in my country with your incredible RF-111 fighter-bombers after the conflict.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“The RF-111, the Vampire I believe you called it, would have been ideal for Turkey’s defense,” Sivarek explained. “A single aircraft with reconnaissance, counterair, close air support, heavy bombing, antiship, and electronic-warfare capabilities? We would have liked very much to have two squadrons. Unfortunately, you sold them all to Australia. That was a dark day for Turkey.”
“Some would have said it was a bright day for the Kurds and the Greeks.”
“We are not at war with Greece, nor will we ever be,” Sivarek said. “All parties realize we must find a peaceful settlement to the Cyprus question. But the Kurds-they are a different song. They are butchers, terrorists, anarchists, and spawns of Satan.”
“The sight of F-111s bombing Kurdish villages would have sickened most Americans,” Rebecca pointed out. “I understand the media paints a different picture than you’d like-they are portrayed as oppressed persons, persecuted by fundamentalist Muslim governments, denied a homeland by both Iraq and Turkey. The government will always be seen as the oppressor, and the Kurds as heroic refugees, like the Jews. Their hardships will be seen as the faithful struggling against tyranny.”
“Aci patlicani kiragi calmaz—the worthless don’t suffer hardships,” Sivarek said. “So Turkey, a NATO ally, is scorned by the West. Ukraine once aimed nuclear weapons at your country., Iran once tried to sink an American aircraft carrier and has engineered countless terrorist attacks against American interests, but you court their favor now so you can import their oil and counterbalance a resurging Russian hegemony. Turkey has cooperated with America for thirty years, standing on the front line of defense against Russia, yet we are virtually ignored. What is Turkey supposed to say about this American foreign policy?”
“The old saying goes, if you don’t like American foreign policy, wait a few days — it’ll change,” Rebecca said.
“Ah yes — your new American president, the Jeffersonian hippie president,” Sivarek said, with an amused, slightly mocking smile. “I think he will break up NATO. This will leave Turkey all alone to face the Russians. Very unfortunate. What will you do then? Will you come back then and help defend my country, Colonel Rebecca? Or will you come to the aid of your new Ukrainian friends instead?”
“I don’t think the President will ever actually leave or break up NATO,” Rebecca said. “It would not be in our best interests. But I would very much like to speak with you about your country and your defense needs.”
“Oh?” Sivarek smiled that swarthy, cocky smile. “You never did mention what unit you are with, Colonel Rebecca.”
“No, I didn’t,” Furness said with a sly smile. She extended her hand, and he shook it warmly. “Gidelim, General.”
At that same time, when Annie Dewey emerged from the lead bomber’s crew compartment, she was met by Colonel David Luger, and she ran happily into his arms. “Oh, God, David,” she breathed, “it’s so good to see you.”
Luger murmured a “Welcome back” to her, but she could tell immediately that his attention was elsewhere. When she looked at him after their embrace, she saw him staring with an almost blank expression at the Tupolev-22M Backfire bomber. “Hey, David,” she said, studying his face with growing concern. “Everything okay?”
“Sure … sure…” But everything was not all right. She thought she began to feel his hands grow cold, and she swore that his face was looking paler.
“You’ve seen one of these things before, haven’t you?” she asked. “I thought you knew all there was to know about every warplane in the known galaxy.”
“Yes … yes, I know all about ‘Speka.’”
“Speka? What’s that?”
“Hey! My copilot! Annie!” they heard behind them. It was General Roman Smoliy. “Hey you, I did not know you had eyes for any other man but me! Who is this usurper daring to compete with me for your affections?”