Since he was nearer, Jake grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down, tossing a can to his maudlin brother.

“Shouldn’t you wait until you’re out of uniform for that?”

“Who’s going to care?” Jim cracked the top of the beer and downed a swig, staring moodily at the floor. Jake chuckled, and his brother looked up and glared. He held his hands up in a soothing gesture.

“Jim, seriously, looking at this from the point of view of a rational person and not an obsessive pilot, what the hell would you do with a defunct nuclear bomber?”

“She’s a search and rescue craft, not a nuclear bomber!” Jim’s defense was instant, and Jake snorted.