Free Fallout by James W. Huston

threat.”
    “That is more thrust than your F-18, yes?”
    “Yep. But the F/A-18 is lighter.”
    Vlad stood up straight and turned around. “No, my friend. Maximum takeoff weight for the F-18 is twenty-three thousand kilograms. Yes?”
    Luke quickly multiplied the number by 2.23 in his head. “About.”
    “Maximum takeoff weight for the MiG-29 is eighteen thousand five hundred kilograms.”
    “That just means the F-18 can carry more.”
    “Ha!” Vlad exclaimed. “Ha!” He walked around to the front of the airplane with Luke and Thud in tow. “These airplanes have 1:1 thrust-to-weight ratio at maximum takeoff weight! F-18 is not close to that.”
    “What kind of shape do you think they’re in?” Luke asked, trying to change the subject.
    “Fine shape,” Vlad said. “Look here,” he said, crouching at the side of the nosewheel. “See this?” He pointed to a small fender on the wheel. Not waiting for them to answer, his accent becoming stronger with his excitement as he tried to talk faster, he continued, “This is to clean mud and dirt off wheel before it is pulled up into plane on takeoff. You know why?”
    “Unimproved runways.”
    “Ha! Not just unimproved, but dirt! Or grass! What other jet fighter in world can take off from dirt strip? Wheel stays clean, and engine intakes stay closed until takeoff. Did you know that?”
    Luke and Thud nodded.
    “You know about louvers on top of wings for air during start and takeoff ?”
    Again they nodded.
    The Air Force Captain was watching them with growing skepticism. The loud, smelly Russian made her uneasy. She understood that the Russians were now our friends, but she also understood that Americans still got arrested now and then for “spying” in Russia. But these were Russian airplanes. There wasn’t anything particularly secret about them. Their purchase from Moldova had been announced at a press conference by the Secretary of Defense. And if there was anything secret about the planes, they were Russian secrets, not American. She just stood with her arms folded and watched them.
    “Let’s look inside,” Vlad said. He looked around for the standard yellow ladder and found one lying beside the MiG two places down. He jogged to it and lifted the ladder upright, expertly placing it against the side of the jet.
    The Captain didn’t want them opening the planes at all. She unfolded her arms and began walking quickly toward Vlad.
    Suddenly there was an electrical noise as the canopy opened. The Captain saw Vlad grinning as the canopy on the second MiG started up toward the sky.
    Before she could say anything, Vlad had scrambled up the side of the MiG with Luke right behind him.
    “Run interference for us, Thud,” Luke said.
    Thud intercepted the Captain with his hands up. “They just want to take a look,” he said.
    She hadn’t been prepared for this at all and wasn’t sure if it was even allowed. She wanted this visit to be as uneventful as possible, a “nonevent,” as she wanted to describe it to her boss. But now it was an event.
    Vlad didn’t even hesitate. He climbed into the cockpit with a knowing, fluid motion that Luke knew could come only from hundreds of repetitions. His hands quickly dashed around the dusty cockpit, reveling in the familiar sensations and appearance.
    Luke followed him up the ladder and looked over his shoulder. “What do you think?” he asked, full of hope and expectation.
    Vlad smiled. “Compared to your multifunction displays, not fancy. But it will work. They have all their instruments—radar, weapons wiring, everything. And look here,” he said, pointing to the weapons panel.
    “What?” Luke asked.
    “Nuclear capable. These C models are wired to carry nuclear weapons.”
    “Holy shit,” Luke said, looking down at the nervous Captain, who was deep in conversation with Thud and glancing their way. “Do you think that will make it harder?”
    “No, it makes no difference,” Vlad said, running his hands