The Turkish general favored Tychina with a hint of a smile, but then tipped his head back slightly, eyes closed — which Tychina knew to be a “no”—and said solemnly, “I am sorry, but that is not possible, Colonel. General Eyers is quite correct: my country offered protection for your government and your air force, nothing more. It is not a wise policy for your crews to fly with our pilots. NATO crews train several times a year together; Ukrainian crews have never trained with us. If there would be an air battle between NATO and Russia, your planes are too similar to Russian rear-echelon planes, even with Ukrainian markings — and some of your planes still have Russian markings on them. The confusion would be enormous. It would be dangerous and expose both our forces to serious risk.”
“Then we will fly alone, sir,” Tychina decided. “When your planes are not flying, we will fight.”
“That proves how much you know about Western tactics, son.” Eyers chuckled condescendingly. “We don’t pause, we don’t stop, we don’t let up once the ball game gets going. It’s just too dangerous. Some overanxious fly-boy would likely put a Sidewinder up your butt, and it’d be a waste of a good missile. Forget it, chief.”
Tychina took two tightly controlled steps toward Eyers, his fists clenched. “I am not this ‘chief,’ and I am not ‘son,’ sir,” he seethed. “I am Colonel of Aviation of the Air Force of the Ukrayinan Republic—”
“And you’re way out of line, Colonel,” Eyers said, pointing a finger at him as if he were pointing a gun. “We saved your butt from a royal shellacking. You’re on our side of the fence now, son. You stay grounded until we clear up this awful mess.”
Pavlo was incredulous. He didn’t understand all the words, but his tone of voice and his hand gestures said everything — the American general didn’t want his Ukrayinan bombers to leave Turkey. “No! My orders are to prepare my aircraft for combat operations,” Tychina snapped. “We do not stay on ground. We fight.”
“You’ll do as you’re ordered or you’ll be placed under arrest!” yelled Eyers, eyes on fire.
“I was not sent here to wait. I came here to fight,” Tychina explained to both of them, trying to remain calm. “If I am not given permission to prepare to fight, I will recommend to my commander that our forces be withdrawn.”
“Withdrawn?” Eyers’ eyes turned the size of saucers. “You listen to me, you third-world shithead …”
“Enough!” Sivarek ordered, raising both hands in front of the two officers.
“You stay out of this, General,” Eyers said dismissively, waving a hand as if to swat a bothersome insect. “I’m gonna set this pup straight.”
“Hayir. You will not,” Sivarek interrupted. Eyers looked angry enough to commit murder at being shown up by the Turk, but Sivarek went on. “You are my superior officer, General Eyers, but this is still my base and my country, and you are both guests here. Is that understood, sir?”
Eyers said nothing, but only glared at Tychina.
“I understand, sir,” Tychina said. “I am grateful for any help you give.”
“Tamam. We shall leave it at that,” Sivarek said. Eyers stalked away, finding a pitcher of strong, thick Turkish coffee on a credenza nearby and pouring himself a cup. “Colonel, the decision as to what role your fighters and bombers will play in the conflict which is to come must be coordinated with your country and with any other nations that choose to stand against the Russian aggression,” the Turkish officer continued. “So far, none have stepped forward, although NATO — and indeed the entire world — is mobilizing its military forces for intercontinental war, fearful that the Russians may try an invasion of Turkey or the Eastern Bloc republics. We simply have to wait and see.
“We do indeed have a quantity of Ukrainian weapons stored here,” Sivarek went on. “My orders are to guard them, nothing more. They do indeed belong to you, and they will be returned to you at the proper time. For the moment, we need help in inventorying and inspecting the weapons stockpile. Can your crews assist in this?”
“They can, sir,” Tychina said quietly. “I would like to organize training, intelligence, maintenance, target selection, and communications details as well. I am hoping that General Panchenko can send technicians from Ukrayina, but for now I intend on organizing my aircrews to—”
“What you’re going to do, Colonel, is sit tight and don’t do anything unless I tell you to do it,” Eyers declared. “We got you out of your country with your skins, so you owe us. That’s all you need to know. You are dismissed. Report here at seven A.M. tomorrow morning and you’ll be given your duties.”
Tychina saluted Eyers and Sivarek, but the Turkish general held up a hand and asked, “How were you injured, effendi?”
“I was leader of interceptor flight that stopped first raid of Tupolev-95 bombers into Ukrayina,” Tychina explained. “My aircraft was shot out. But I kill many heavy Bear bombers and make others turn away.”
“Yeah, right.” General Eyers chuckled, pouring himself more coffee. “You get yourself blown away but still managed to save the day, huh? I heard that one before.”
“No, I have heard of this man,” Sivarek said, impressed. “The young captain who shot down five Russian bombers and averted the first Russian attack single-handedly. You are a hero, young sir. I congratulate you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tychina said. He noticed Eyers’ skeptical expression and added, “You think I not tell the truth, General Eyers?”
“If you say it’s true, it’s fine by me,” Eyers said easily. “I’ll bet that yarn impresses the hell out of your girlfriends, that’s for damned sure.”
“My girlfriend is dead, General,” Tychina hissed. “She was killed in Russian attack while waiting for me to marry her.” He held out his arms, his hands and wrists tense, as if he were carrying his dead fiancée. “She died of the radiation sickness. In my arms.”
“That’s too bad,” Eyers said in a low voice, feigning his condolences. “But maybe your revenge is making you not think so clear, chief. You just can’t go charging back into the Ukraine or Russia just like that — they’ll blow your toy planes out there away. Think with your head and not your balls, son.” Tychina’s open hands, still extended as if he were carrying his dead Mikki, curled into tight fists, then dejectedly dropped to his side.
“You ever think about the fact that if you hadn’t stopped those Bears from doing their thing, Russia would’ve never nuked you?” asked Eyers, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe those Bears were just going to hit military targets in Moldova and Romania, not the Ukraine, or maybe they really were just reconnaissance planes like the Russian foreign ministry suggests. If that’s true, what you did was an act of war — against your own people, your own allies.”
Tychina turned to Eyers, pure hatred in his eyes magnified by his face mask. “You Americans, no one invade your home, you do not know how to suffer,” he said. “You talk big about patience and waiting when Russians drop nuclear bombs on Ukrayina. It will be very different if Russians attack America.”
“It’ll never happen, son,” Eyers said confidently. “Ol’ Velichko knows better than to even try it. And don’t try to tell me I don’t know the score, my friend. I was in uniform defending my country long before you had your first wet dream. Back when ol’ Khrushchev was still alive and kicking. Maybe you ought to try listening to how the professional soldiers in the West fight for a change, instead of swinging your dick around looking for a fight. Someone’s liable to shoot it off.”