"High altitude weather observation overdue. UNR-12, please report synoptics in quadrants."
They really want simulation, Grant grumbled mentally. "Southwest quadrant, southeast quadrant clear except for banner-clouding higher ranges. Northwest, scattered alto-cumulus, looks like the onset of a warm front, with the northeast quadrant moderate-high cirrus. And let me talk to Br ... to Lieutenant Ashley, please."
A pause. "Ashley, Mojave."
"How's my picture now?"
"Your vertical is off, and you flutter. Major, the first three hours have been without direction from the base. For the next two, we're going to ask you to perform certain patrol tasks, perhaps repeat them. The process may not prove especially enjoyable. Your close coöperation will be appreciated."
"If this is all stuff we went through in training—" Grant sputtered.
"Some of it may be," Bridget's voice. "The fact it's distasteful may make it the more significant. Are you ready to coöperate?"
Grant nodded at the lens and screwed up his face in an exaggerated frown.
Bridget's thoroughness called for admiration. She had him at the end of a string, activating him from a plot taken directly from the pilot's manual. He would coöperate, but he was not enthusiastic.
As the exercises progressed, Grant detected subtle variations Bridget had added to the basic maneuvers. On the tight starboard circle, for instance, she had him keep his eyes on Earth, making him slightly dizzy.