Strike Force

The ground technicians had already performed the “Preflight,” “Before Power On,” “Power On,” and “Before Engine Start” checklists, but both crewmembers checked them again before allowing the computers to proceed with engine start. Like all of Dreamland’s aircraft, checklists and most everything else were accomplished by computers and checked and monitored by humans — they merely prepared themselves to take over in case of a major malfunction, which was rare. Much of what the engineers did at Dreamland these days was design unmanned aircraft and convert formerly manned aircraft to unmanned ones — in fact, unmanned aircraft far outnumbered manned ones at Dreamland.

Ten minutes after strapping in, the canopies motored shut and the aircraft was ready to taxi. There was no control tower at Elliott Air Force Base — ground control and tower functions were handled by cameras and sensors that detected the position of any object larger than a rabbit for miles in any direction. Like most everything else, taxiing for takeoff was done by computers — the sensors and satellite-based navigations systems on board the aircraft were much more precise than a human’s senses, and the bomber never left the yellow taxi lines as it lined up for takeoff.

It was another opportunity for Patrick to think about all the oddities of not just this mission, but the entire XR-A9 program. Although Lieutenant-General Patrick McLanahan was fully qualified to fly any aircraft based at Elliott Air Force Base, including the XR-A9, he always flew with a fully qualified pilot — but he was unaccustomed to flying with someone less than half his age. Hunter “Boomer” Noble was one of the new breed of men entering the twenty-first-century aerospace industry: highly intelligent, highly motivated by technical challenges if not geopolitics and military affairs — and completely unresponsive to the notion that there was just one way to do anything, or that anyone over the age of thirty knew anything about anything worthwhile.

But in the cockpit, this young playboy test pilot was all business. “Ready to go, General?” Boomer asked.

“Yep,” Patrick replied, and he put his hands on the side-stick controller and throttle. “I’ve got the airplane.”

“Uh…sir, I thought the rules said no manual takeoffs on operational test flights,” Noble pointed out.

“We’ve been working together for about a year, isn’t that right, Boomer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you should know by now that if a three-star general wants to fly the plane, even manually, you say ‘yes, sir’ in a smart military manner, and then doing everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t crash the plane.”

Boomer smiled and put on his oxygen visor. “Yes, sir. It’s your ass, I guess.”

“That’s more like it. I’ve got the airplane.”

“You got it, General.” Boomer switched all of the navigation and flight control screens over to Patrick’s supercockpit display and placed the engine and system monitor screens on his panel. “Aircraft configured for manual takeoff, mission-adaptive systems set to auto, navigation display set, everything’s in the green. You’re ready for takeoff.”

“Roger. Brakes on,” Patrick said. He applied the brakes, then slowly advanced the throttles. When he was at full military power he let the brakes go, then eased the throttles into full afterburner. It did not take long for the Black Stallion to reveal its legacy as the fastest air-breathing aircraft in the world as the speed built up quickly. It leapt off the runway in less than three thousand feet and climbed at a dazzling ten thousand feet per minute to forty thousand feet.

They proceeded to the air refueling track, which led westbound out over central California to the Pacific Ocean, then descended to twenty-four thousand feet, rendezvoused with a Dreamland KC-77 tanker, a modified Boeing 777 airliner a few minutes later, made contact with the tanker’s refueling boom, and started to take on fuel. The tanker made two contacts: the first to fill up the Black Stallion’s jet fuel tanks in the wings and aft fuselage, and the second to transfer another substance into a separate, larger storage tank in the center fuselage section of the aircraft. The second transfer took much longer because the substance was much thicker than jet fuel, but after almost an hour the refueling was complete. The aircraft was now over three times heavier than it was at takeoff: the aircraft carried twice its own weight in fuel. If it had this same fuel load on the ground, it would never have been able to take off.