With a defeated shrug, Jakes gestured toward the ladder. 67
Kinsman glanced at Colt, and the two of them glided over to the ladder and swam up to the flight deck, leaving dead silence behind them.
Major Podolski was a big, florid-faced man with a golden old-style RAF Fighter Command mustache. His bulk barely fit into the commander's left-hand seat. He was half turned in it, one heavy arm draped across the seat's back, as Kinsman rose through the hatch.
"I've been listening to what you had to say down there, Lieutenant, and if you think . . ."
Kinsman put a finger to his lips. Podolski frowned.
Sitting lightly on the payload specialist's chair, behind the commander, Kinsman let himself grin.
"Sir," he said, nearly whispering so that Podolski had to lean closer to hear him, "I thought one good joke deserved another. My uncle lost his seat in the Senate years ago."
A struggle of emotions played across Podolski's face. Finally a curious smile won out. "I get it," he whispered back. "You want them to stew in their own juices for a few minutes, eh?"
Glancing at Colt, Kinsman answered, "Not exactly, sir. I want reparations."
"Repa—what're you talking about. Mister?" "This is the first time Frank and I have been allowed up on the flight deck."
"So?" "So we want to sit up here while you fly her back through re-entry and landing."
Podolski looked as if he had just swallowed a lemon, whole. "Oh, you do? And maybe you want to take over the controls, too?"
Colt bobbed his head vigorously. "Yes, sir\'"
"Don't make me laugh."
"Sir ... I meant it about the Judge Advocate General. And I have another uncle—"
"Never mind!" Podolski snapped. "You can sit up here during re-entry and landing. And that's all! You sit and watch and be quiet and forget this whole stupid incident."
"That's all we want, sir," Kinsman said. He turned toward Colt, who was beaming.
"You guys'll go far in the Air Force," Podolski grumbled. 68
"A pair of smartasses with the guts of burglars. Just what the fuck this outfit needs." But there was the trace of a grin flitting around his mustache.
"Glad you think so, sir," said Kinsman.
