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Michael knelt in the deepest shadow beside a starboard-aimed missile launcher on the Grad Sviyazhsk missile corvette. The four angled launch tubes rose out of the deck like a growing thing.
He rolled out his Phase IV kit on the deck. With an electric screwdriver, he had the outer service plate off it in a minute flat. The missile’s plate was less forgiving; the missiles weren’t designed to be serviced inside the tube. He had pulled the inner cover plate free when a deep voice called to him in Russian.
“What are you working on, Yuri?”
Michael didn’t rise from his crouch or look up but kept his attention focused ahead of him. In Russian he replied, “There is a warning light that we have a bad seal here. The captain said for me to fix right now. So I’m fixing it.”
“You’re not Yuri. St
