FIRE ON HIGH
“Fire On High” is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and settings copyright Tigermark 2003-2004 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.
The character Anatol Altaisokova is my name for a character copyright Max Blackrabbit, and appears in this story with his permission.
Matt Barstock and Intermountain Charter © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE.
Chapter 9
RISK MANAGEMENT
Tia walked down the school hallway, looking for the next classroom she had to be in for testing. She felt she’d done well in Math, Geometry, and Science. The English test had been an essay, so she was confident on that, as well. Next was History in room 214. She had just spotted the classroom when she heard a sound off to the side and behind her. She stopped and looked in that direction.
Three young females, a mink, a chinchilla, and a squirrel, had just come out of the side hallway and now stood giggling and whispering, with furtive glances in Tia’s direction. She couldn’t hear all of what they were saying, but “odd-looking,” “half-breed,” and “tail” came to her clearly. The three appeared to be purebred, and Tia felt her anger rise as she thought they were making fun of her. She hadn’t had to put up with much of that at the base schools she’d attended. The military had such a diverse population that a mixed heritage was almost the norm.
Tia’s first thought was to snarl and show some teeth and claws, but then all her father and uncle had taught her about how to respond to things like this came to mind. Recalling their advice, she turned back toward her destination, stood tall, held her tail up high, and with a dismissive flip of its tip, walked on into the classroom.
The three who’d been talking about her stood open-mouthed. They had never been so thoroughly dismissed and ignored in their lives. They all looked at each other and said, “C-o-o-l.”
As Tia sat down to wait for the teacher who would administer the History test, she thought to herself, “What a lousy way to start off in a new school. New kid, only a month of school left, and I’ve probably just dissed the most popular clique in school.”
As the door opened and a husky in a coat and tie entered, Tia left those thoughts behind to concentrate on the coming test.
# # #
Andrew’s first day was going pretty good, he thought. He’d done well on the tests they’d given him, and he’d already met two guys who shared his interest in computers. Daniel Westland was a terrier with rather unruly hair, and Sal Idiri was a mongoose who talked faster than Andrew could type.
They sat now in the cafeteria at Winchester East Elementary School, getting acquainted and already planning to get together after school sometime in the coming week to play Star Fox on Sal’s computer.
“So anyway my sister had been playing Sims and left the computer on and Mom got really upset that it’d make the electric bill go up and I said it’d only be like leaving a light bulb on ‘cause it’d go to standby in a few minutes and she said I wasn’t helping hey Andrew is it true your Dad is a fighter pilot?” said Sal, all in one breath as his tail whipped back and forth. Neither Andrew nor Daniel had an opportunity to comment. Daniel was pretty quiet, Andrew had noted, and now he knew why. No one could get a word in edgewise while Sal was talking.
Realizing that Sal had stopped talking and was waiting for a reply, Andrew blinked and then said, “Yes, he was.”
“Was? What’s he do now?” Sal asked in his staccato fashion. Daniel, who had listened closer when Mr. Ligon had told them about the new student joining them, stomped smartly on the mongoose’s foot and said, “Shhh!”
“OW!” Sal exclaimed, and then turned to Daniel, eyes flashing red and teeth bared in anger, “What’d ya do that for?”
“Ixnay on the Estionquay,” Daniel said quietly.
Even though the question had caused a quick flash of renewed grief, Andrew recovered quickly, saying, “It’s all right, you guys. Sal, my Dad got killed almost a month ago in a crash.”
Sal’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d done.
“Oh wow I’m sorry I didn’t know are you okay how’d it happ—,” he said rapid fire, until a sharp look from Daniel cut him off.
Andrew sighed and said, “Look, I don’t want to take up all lunch period telling you about it. I love my Dad, and I miss him a lot. Maybe I’ll tell you about it when we get together later.”
His two friends nodded silently, and soon they were animatedly talking again. The bell rang shortly after that, and as Andrew got up to put his tray in the window to be washed, he thought that he was very lucky to find friends so soon.
# # #
Anton sighed as he put his bags down and opened Blake’s carrier. The felid stretched as he walked out, looked up at Anton and let out a questioning “Mew?”
“Yes, we’re home for a while,” Anton said, reaching down and running a paw down Blake’s arched back . The kaht wandered off in search of the litter box as Anton began to move his things to their various places.
It felt good to be home. Anton was sure his battle with the cancer in his stomach would be better fought here on his home turf. Jenna had wanted him to stay in Lexington, and he’d had to cajole Billy Panelli to fly him home on his way to Virginia on a sales call. Billy had done so with the provision that he could stop by on his way back through to check on the older tiger, and that Anton would tell him then what the doctor had found out about his upset stomach. So far, only he and Jenna knew, but Anton was sure he’d have to tell Talia when she stopped by to see him.
Anton sighed again and mused to himself, “That’ll probably be in just a little while. Talia will see I’m here when she drives past on her way home from the library.” Talia always went there this time of the week for the poetry reading. Always a bit dour in personality, most wouldn’t have guessed the spinster tigress had a passion for a good poem.
He had just finished putting his clothes away and had sat down in his favorite chair to read a bit when the doorbell rang. Anton got to his feet, still stiff from the flight home, and went to the front door. He checked through the peephole to be sure, and then opened the door.
“Hello Talia, I was expecting you. How was the poetry today?” he said in greeting.
With a rare smile, Talia said, “Better than usual. Young Julia Piercy did quite a nice piece on spring. How was your visit with Jenna and the cubs?”
“It was very nice,” Anton replied as he motioned his sister into the house and toward a chair, “Can I take your jacket for you?”
To his surprise, Talia reached out and briefly hugged him. Never one for physical displays of affection, Talia must still be feeling the effects of her nephew’s death, Anton decided. She handed him her jacket and went to sit down on the sofa. Blake wandered in and hopped up next to her. She began petting him, and by the time Anton had hung up Talia’s jacket and returned to sit down in his chair, the kaht was laying Sphinx-style with his eyes closed, purring.
“So, everyone is well?” Talia asked. Anton decided that delay wouldn’t be the best course, so he started right in.
“Jenna and the cubs are fine, but I have some bad news”
Talia looked at him steadily. She was, in many ways, even more stoic than the males of the O’Whitt family, so she waited instead of jumping to any conclusion.
“As you know,” Anton said, returning her steady gaze, “I’ve been having an upset stomach a lot lately. Jenna convinced me to go to a doctor in Lexington while I was there. He says I have stomach cancer, and the prognosis isn’t good. I have an appointment with Dr. Gailton, an oncologist in Charleston, next week.”
Talia sat in stunned silence for a moment and then, gathering her wits, she said, “Brother, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. Who else have you told about this?”
"Just Jenna,” Anton replied, “and I don’t want a big deal made about this. I’m going to fight it the best I can, but I don’t want a bunch of folks fussing over me.”
“You mean you haven’t told Alex?” Talia said incredulously, “He needs to know! Maybe he can move Stateside sooner, or at least—”
“I will tell Alex when the time is right,” Anton interrupted, “He just got back to
Talia looked doubtful, but decided that arguing with her stubborn brother would be useless. Anton would do it his way, period!
After a short awkward silence, Talia said, “I’m sorry; I know this has to be difficult. Of course, you tell who you wish and when. I will still put you on the prayer chain at church, as unspoken, if you want.”
Anton smiled, saying, “Thanks, Sis. Don’t count me out yet, there’s a lot of fight left in this ol’ tiger.”
They both laughed, and Anton continued telling his sister about Jenna, Tia, Andrew, and Alex’s place in Winchester.
# # #
“Staff Sergeant Rollins, thahnk you for your call. I assume you have information for me?” Jefferson Mastifson said. The harsh, barely feminine laugh on the other end of the phone connection suited his mental image of his lover. She could be quite cruel when it served her purposes. Unlike his wife, a submissive rabbit doe he considered little more than a prop for his career, the Doberman bitch could be quite excitingly aggressive. The fact that she was an enlisted fur only meant that, in the end, Mastifson always got the upper paw.
“Yes, Jefferson, I do,” SSgt Rollins said in reply.“I saw an interesting sight in the All-Ranks Club yesterday, I think you’d be interested to hear about it.”
“Go on, Rebecca, you have my full attention,” Mastifson said as his ears perked up.
“Not yet, but maybe later I will,” she said in a suggestive way, but then continued, “I saw that officer you said to watch for if I saw him around on base. Colonel O’Whitt, his CO, and that retired tiger that was with the O’Whitt’s at the board presentation were in the Club yesterday afternoon.”
Mastifson sat straight up, his tail actually waving slightly back and forth as he said, “Continue! What did you see?”
“A young femme enlisted from base ops came in and talked with them. She spoke to each of them at different times, but she only had eyes for your Col. O’Whitt. He even touched her briefly, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying,” SSgt Rollins said. The doberman might be having an affair with an officer, but she had the sense to keep it out of the public eye.
“Hmmm, are you certain?” Mastifson asked.
“A girl knows such things,” she replied with certainty, “I’m not sure if he picked up on it, but the collie was certainly interested in him.”
“I see,” Mastifson said, a calculating look on his face, “Well, it isn’t a lot, but maybe my contacts in Safety and Personnel can supply a bit more, and then I’ll make a few calls and pass this along to the right furs. I was put up for ridicule because of that tiger, and I will make sure he pays for it.”
“Oh, I love it when you get aggressive. Will I see you later, my Academy fur?” the Doberman half growled into the pawset.
“Yas, I’ll meet you at our regular place at 20:30. The little rabbit will be in bed by then,” Mastifson replied smugly. He would send her to bed if need be. His little prop was most compliant, and would probably not even question an authoritative command to go to bed.
“’Til then,” SSgt. Rollins replied, and then closed the connection without further comment.
Mastifson put the cell phone back in his pocket, a frown on his face. In actuality, he’d gotten negative responses to both his inquiries from his contacts in Personnel and Safety. This Lt. Col. O’Whitt was so clean he must squeak when he walked. The fur was an Ace with an outstanding record as both a pilot and an officer. He wanted to ruin the tiger, but so far, this bit of possible fraternization was all the ammunition he had. He’d have to bide his time and wait for something more to turn up.
Steepling his fingers, he said to himself, “One day, O’Whitt, one day. I don’t let slights like this go easily. General Boyd had best count himself lucky he’s beyond my reach.”
# # #
“That’s right, Alex, a Letter of Admonition. Barely a touch on the wrist and it’ll probably disappear before his next OER (Officer Effectiveness Report),” Scatcat Higgins said as he waited to brief the day's mission.
Alex put on a sour expression and said, “So he’s still flying, still in command, and still a danger to the pilots under him.”
“Yep. And no, there’s nothing you can do about it short of complaining to the IG. According to the Air Force, the matter is closed,” Scatcat said.
Alex looked as though he’d like to go shred some rotweiller, but instead he heaved a sigh and said, “Okay, okay. At least Jason’s name was cleared. Better watch out, ol’ lion. I have a lot of aggression to work out today.”
Scatcat looked at him sharply, so Alex quickly finished, “In a safe and controlled way, of course.”
The Lion laughed and observed, “For someone as calm as you are, I can’t seem to be around you for ten minutes before I’m laughing about something.”
Alex grinned in response and said, “Then my plan is working. Keep ‘em laughing and they won’t figure out what you’re up to.”
“C’mon, you crazy tiger, let’s go brief so we can get into the air,” Scatcat said, still laughing.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Alex replied.
They met Captains Tags Bollinger and Rings Jorgenson, and First Lieutenants Scoot Atkins and Nines Richards in the briefing room.
Col. Higgins dispensed with the usual ritual and simply said, “Air-to-air gunnery combat is the game. Ice and Rings are the OPFOR. The hard deck is five thousand. Nines, you’re with me. Scoot, you’re with Tags. Let’s go tear up some sky.”
They all rode over to Aircrew Life Support, suited up and picked up their survival gear, and then headed for the flightline.
Carl Racine was waiting to help Alex into his ride as usual. Soon the litany of engine start procedures and control checks was completed, and salutes were exchanged. Alex called out ready to taxi, and in a moment Scatcat relayed their clearance. The six F-15C’s made their way to the runway, and in short order were airborne with gear up. They eased into formation for the twenty minute flight to the large South Practice Area.
“Eagle One to Eagle flight, let’s adjust the hard deck to fifteen thousand. Looks like we’ve got a broken to solid undercast at about eight thousand down that way,” Scatcat called to the flight. In turn, they all acknowledged the change. Above them, only scattered wisps of cirrus dotted the cold blue sky. Soon, Scatcat was calling in to activate their time slot.
“South Range Control, Eagle One Six is a flight of six F-15’s, five miles north of the area at twenty five thousand, heading one seven five. Request traffic advisory for our slot.”
“Eagle One Six, squawk three three four six, South Range is clear, enter at your discretion,” the controller replied in a slight New England accent.
“Eagle One Six copies, squawking three three four six,” Scat cat replied as they closed on the area boundary.
They entered the practice area, and Scatcat called out on the ship-to-ship, “Okay Ice, you and Rings get scarce. I’ll call Game On in two mikes. Gun runs only.”
“Copy Scatcat, we’re gone,” Ice replied as he and Rings peeled out of formation and flew away towards the west in a wide, sweeping turn. By agreement, everyone had their radar set for short range scan. Two minutes should give the pair time to disappear from radar and come back in on the other F-15’s from an unknown direction.
Alex switched to the channel he and Rings had predetermined for their ship to ship communications and said, “Rings, lets head on upstairs. We’ll try to drop down on them from straight astern first. My bet is they’ll split and try to divide us. Stay with me and we’ll go after the pair that breaks left and try to gun them before the others can get back around on us. Keep an eye on our six and if the other two start getting too close, call Six Check and we’ll break off and go defensive.”
“Copy Ice,” the low tenor voice of the leopard came over the radio, “Let’s go get em!”
The pair of F-15’s went into afterburner as they climbed to thirty five thousand, and then leveled off and executed a ninety-degree starboard turn. They began to scan for the other aircraft as Scatcat’s voice echoed in their earphones, “Game On, come and get us!”
Alex and Rings stayed silent as they scanned for the other aircraft, and then Alex spotted a brief flash of sun off a canopy, probably 20 miles out and behind his starboard wing. The other F-15’s had turned in the direction Ice and Rings had gone, and now he and his wingfur had almost flown past them.
Opting for a head-on instead of a stern approach, Alex paw-signaled Rings to follow him. He turned to where he’d seen the flash of light and pushed his speed up to .95 of Mach, driving in fast to reduce the others' reaction time.
At about the same time the radar confirmed the targets, the four F-15’s in Scatcat’s group split, attempting to put Alex and Rings between them. Alex was having none of it, and angled directly toward the pair to his port side, Rings locked on his wing.
As they came screaming down and in toward the pair, Rings loosened up to slightly behind Ice to protect his six. The other pair of F-15’s were now coming in on them from their starboard quarter, but the speed and angle would keep them from firing for a bit longer.
At the rapid closure rate they were facing, Ice and Rings flashed past the aircraft they had targeted a couple of seconds later. They did a hard, climbing port turn and placed the two F-15’s they’d just passed between themselves and the other two Eagles. Rings had swung a bit wide, and now trailed Ice by about three aircraft lengths. The pair they had just passed were Tags and Scoot, and those two were now turning starboard to track and engage Ice and Rings, and to try to clear Scatcat and Nines’ approach.
Ice and Rings stood on their wingtips in a 6G, 90° turn, pulling inside and surprising Tags and Scoot, and continuing to keep Scatcat and Nines at bay. Going defensive, Tags and Scoot turned back opposite Ice and Rings and hit ‘burner to pull away. Ice hit the throttles to go after them, but suddenly a loud boom and concussion shook his aircraft. A quick check showed nothing amiss on his panel, but as a precaution he called, “Knock it off!” (A universal call among US fighter pilots to cease what they are doing, something is wrong.)
Pulling out of ‘burner and turning his head to look around, he saw Rings’ F-15 almost 200 yards back, with smoke billowing out behind the aircraft.
As the other aircraft assumed straight and level flight, Ice called out, “Rings, status. You’re trailing smoke like crazy.”
“Copy that, Ice. Every red light on my panel is lit up. I’ve lost hydraulics, the rudder is mushy, and I’ve got a fire warning light for the starboard engine. I seem to be losing power on the port engine, as well,” Rings said in a tense voice.
“Hang in there, I’ll come around and give you a visual,” Ice replied, chopping the throttles and dropping back to the stricken aircraft.
As Alex flew a slow circle around the F-15, his first question was, “Why is it still flying?” The starboard engine had shredded itself, apparently, as they had gone into afterburner. Rings’ aircraft had a hole blown out the top of the fuselage and wing panel right where the hot section of the engine had come apart. A similar hole had blown out the bottom, taking part of the landing gear with it. Small flashes of fire could still be seen inside the holes, even after Rings had pulled the fire handle in the cockpit to extinguish the fire. The top one third of Rings’ starboard vertical stabilizer and rudder were gone also.
“Rings, it doesn’t look good from out here, how’s she flying?” Ice asked, his voice smooth and even to help Rings stay calm.
“Like a brick, and I keep losing systems. How does the gear look?” Rings replied, a little easier now.
“You don’t have one on the starboard side,” Ice replied as he eased into loose formation about 200 feet off Rings’ starboard side.
“Tags,” Scatcat interrupted at that point, “take Scoot and Nines and RTB, no need in keeping a crowd. Rings, I’ve already called Range Control. A rescue chopper is on its way. I suggest getting down below that cloud deck at twelve thousand before ejecting. Ice’ll stay on your starboard, and I’ll be on your port. Just take it down easy.”
“Copy Scatcat, as easy as she’ll let me. You think ejecting’s the best idea? Maybe I could ride her somewhere closer to home and belly land her,” Rings speculated.
“Nope, I don’t think so,” Ice stated, “The closer we go to home, the more populated it is.”
“Crap! You’re right, Ice. I sure didn’t feel like ejecting today,” Rings groused, trying to ease his tension with humor.
With the throttles back and the aircraft descending, Alex could see fewer spurts of flame in the holes in Rings’ F-15. At twelve thousand five hundred, the three fighters entered a solid deck of altocumulus, and stayed IMC until eight thousand. After breaking out of the clouds, Scatcat and Ice formed back up at a safe distance from Rings’ aircraft.
“Okay, probably a good time to go Rings,” Scatcat called as they descended through seven thousand feet. Below them were rolling hills and forest, with an occasional clearing.
“We’re right with you all the way, Rings,” Ice said reassuringly.
“Thanks furs, see you back at base. Ejecting now,” with that Rings reached down and pulled the handle on the ACES II ejection seat used in the F-15. The canopy bolts blew and the wind stream filled the cockpit as the canopy disappeared behind the aircraft. The rocket motor in the seat fired and Rings departed the aircraft at a high rate of speed, easily clearing the vertical stabilizers.
Ice watched carefully, maneuvering so as to not lose sight of his squadron mate. After a few seconds, the seat separated and Rings’ parachute deployed.
“Scatcat, Rings has a good ‘chute. I’ll stay with him ‘til he lands,” Ice called as the leopard began a slow pendulum swing under the white parachute.
“Copy Ice, I’ll track the aircraft and make sure it doesn’t do anything funky on its way down,” Scatcat replied. The Practice Range itself was uninhabited, but there were several small villages just off the Range that wouldn’t appreciate a stricken F-15 dropping in on them.
Ice was circling the now-steadily descending Rings at twelve hundred feet when Scatcat reported the aircraft’s impact.
“Whooee! Made a helluva crater about three miles from you, Ice. Nose first into a low hill. I’ll relay the coordinates to Range Control. How’s Rings doing?”
“He’s just about down, Scatcat. Heading for a small clearing,” Ice replied.
Before Scatcat could comment, a voice came over the guard or emergency 121.5 frequency, saying, “F-15’s in the South Range, this is Rescue Three, where’s your guy located?”
“Rescue Three, Eagle Two, Ice here. He’s just landed in a clearing at these coordinates,” Ice read off the numbers, and then added, "He’s up and waving. Appears to be uninjured.”
“Copy Ice, we’re about three miles out, coming in from three five two, ETA about two minutes. Keep circling, we have visual on you and the other F-15,” said the fur on board the rescue helicopter. Ice could see the CH-53 Super Stallion, affectionately known as a Jolly Green Giant, as it skimmed low above the trees on its way in.
The big chopper pulled into a hover and then sat down in the clearing. Rings was trying to keep the rotor wash from re-inflating his chute. A pararescuefur ran out of the chopper and helped him gather his survival equipment and ‘chute and carry them up the back ramp into the helicopter. A minute later, the Jolly lifted off.
“Ice, Rescue Three, Your guy is in good shape. We’ll take him to the base hospital at Ramstein to get checked out. Thanks for the good spot,” the pilot radioed as the helicopter climbed up out of the clearing.
“Copy Rescue Three, thanks for the quick pickup. Ice out,” he replied as he kicked in the afterburners and began to climb in earnest.
“Ice, meet me at Delta Two at two five zero and we’ll head for home,” Scatcat called.
“Copy Scatcat, Delta Two at two five zero. On my way,” Ice replied.
He thought briefly of Jason and said a "Thank You" for Rings’ safety. The fur was very lucky to be alive, considering how bad the damage had looked.
“What a crappy way to end what had started out as such a great practice session,” Alex sighed to himself as he headed for the RP.
# # #
“Ahh!” Billy sighed as he sat down on the sofa in his living room. It was Wednesday evening, and usually he and Penny would’ve been at church, but he’d gotten home from his sales trip only a short time ago. He’d left Monday with Anton and dropped the older tiger off at Yeager Airport in Charleston. He’d intended to stop in to see him on the way back through, but that hadn’t worked out, so he was going back Monday to check on him. Anton had hinted at wanting to see his uncle in Findlay, Ohio, so Billy would make sure over the weekend that the Aerostar was ready to go.
Penny walked into the room carrying two glasses of iced tea and wearing a nightgown and robe that didn’t quite cover her lovely figure. Billy watched, mesmerized as she crossed the room toward him.
“Hello Cowboy, come here often?” she purred as she sat down and snuggled up next to him.
“Not nearly often enough, Princess,” he replied as he took the glass that she offered.
She lay her head on his shoulder and sighed, saying, “Maybe after Alex gets done with Test Pilot School and gets to NASA, he can help out more when he’s not training for a mission.”
“Maybe, but my bet is that’s at least five to ten years off. True, he’ll be around more often, but he’ll still be too busy to do a whole lot,” Billy said as he placed his arm around Penny’s shoulder and snuggled her closer.
“Mmm, this is nice. I love it when you’re home,” Penny said, adding, “I worry about Alex. He’s alone so much. How does he stand it?”
“He’s pretty immersed in his career,” Billy said, “I’m not sure he’d have time for a wife even if he found one.”
“I think he’d make time, for the right one,” Penny said as she eased in closer and began to nuzzle Billy behind his ear. “It certainly brought you home,” she said in a husky whisper.
Billy’s eyes widened at the sensation that caused, and he said, “Uh, what’s on that mind of yours, Princess?”
“I’ve missed my husband, and I’m going to show him how much,” she whisper-purred as she nipped lightly at his ear. She took his glass and set it with hers on the table, and then turned to better face him and began to unbutton his shirt.
“Care to go for a ride, Cowboy?” she asked in a low voice as she kissed him on the side of the muzzle.
“Yee-hah!” Billy said softly as he closed his eyes.
# # #
Jefferson Mastifson the Third had barely sat down Thursday morning when his intercom chimed. He put down the aircraft readiness report he’d been preparing to read and answered.
“Yas, Sgt. DeLaroy, what is it?” he said, trying to sound friendly since the NCO had used the chime that time.
“Major Bruinesto on line two for you, sir,” Sgt. Delaroy said in a slightly disbelieving voice.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Mastifson said absently, his mind already on the call. The Major was his contact at the Air Force Flight Safety office in the Pentagon. He picked up the pawset and pushed the button for Line Two.
“Hello William, how nice of you to call,” Mastifson said in his false-sincere Boston accent.
“Thank you Colonel. I have news of interest to you,” the bear said.
“Oh, and what is that?” Mastifson said, his anticipation showing in his voice.
“That Lt. Colonel you wanted me to check on last week. A report just came in today that his wingfur in
“Hmmm, any chance Lt. Col. O’Whitt was in any way at fault?” Mastifson asked flatly, knowing that it was unlikely.
“I doubt it, sir. It happened as they went into afterburner during ACM training. Typically, there was a crack somewhere in the injector ring that causes this type of malfunction. It’s unlikely Lt. Col. O’Whitt was at fault, but you did say to let you know of anything involving him,” Major Bruinesto stated.
The gears began to turn over in Mastifson’s mind. He smiled to himself as he said, “Thank you, Major, that will help me immensely. You do the Academy proud.”
“Thank you, sir,” the Major replied. He had been in the class behind Mastifson.
“Goodbye William, I’ll make sure my uncle remembers you at promotion time,” Mastifson then closed the connection without waiting for a reply.
His smile broadened as he formed an idea. Punching the intercom button, he said, “Sgt. DeLaroy, get me General Forsham out at Edwards.”
“Yes sir,” came the reply from the intercom.
“Yas, this could work out nicely. I’ll place a call to Uncle Lance next,” Mastifson said smugly.
END OF CHAPTER 9