"Damn it!" Ramirez looked down at the weapons' readouts. "Did you have
the Swatter armed? The system should have been off. If it was on, he
could have detonated it by impact."
Peretz stared a second longer at the wreckage of the vessel below, then
glanced back at his instruments and paled. "I thought it was . . . it
must have malfunctioned. No fucking way--"
"Carelessness. Stupid carelessness." Ramirez bent his head and examined
the wing, then checked the status readouts on the weapons system. "We
lost the starboard rocket pod, too."
Peretz took one look and realized it was true. The rocket pod had been
shorn away, leaving the tangled metal of the wing completely bare. But
the Hind did not need its wings for stability; they were merely for
armaments.
"Well, so what? I wasted the fucker, whoever he was." He tried a smile,
sending a web of lines through his tan as the lights of the weapons
panel played across his face. It was the way he always disguised
nervousness.
Damn you, Ramirez was thinking. An Israeli cowboy. I would kill you on
the spot except that I need you. It was an arrogant mistake, and I
can't let it happen again. It won't happen again.