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I glanced back over my shoulder. There were those '17s with their noses all lit up from their cannon, and once in a while a fat tracer drifted past us."Tomboy has valid launches, George." Copy, Tomboy, we're a little busy, too."I started a gentle turn to the right to draw the MiGs across Tony's nose, and as I did so I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.There was no mistaking that sight. "Oh shit! SAM, 2 o'clock. Three rings." Hang on, George," Tony called. He held in there for about a second longer, and then his missile hit. Powdered the MiG completely, nothing but debris, a little smoke, and no chute.The SAM kept getting bigger and bigger. Obviously it had our names all over it."Take it down," I said, and broke toward those ugly green hills below us."Guns at 9 o'clock," Jeff told me.I mentally shrugged. You can only handle so many problems at once.I rolled under the SAM, and its electronics went nuts trying to separate us from the hills below us. It lost radar lock and slammed. "Not scary cold. Just don't-mess-with-me cold. And I had a curious inkling that things would be DIFFERENT now. Finn was no longer in charge. Finn was dead, disappeared faster than a Guatemalan communist during the far-right dictatorship, and Lissa was replacing him -- not JasonBut then she grinned, stuck out her tongue (as if it were all a joke), and sprang out of the car and ran inside before I could even unfold myself from the bucket seat.By the time I got inside and had stripped off the outer layers, Lissa had disappeared in her room. I strolled into the living room and found Denise meditatively twirling her wine glass, right where I'd left her on the couch. She was in her robe, though, and had pulled the blanket over herself as well. She grinned up at me, and I realized she was a bit tipsy."How's it going?" I asked."Good," she said. "Lissa's in a sparkling mood." Yes. I think she had a good time at her friend's today."Denise just smiled laconically. She patted the couch beside.
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