by Anne Fox
“Spud, I had a blast. You have no idea what it’s like to be up there watching the ground roll by, knowing you’re not going to have any stop lights to deal with. Besides, Cloud said he didn’t want to hear me using the comm link.”
“Hank, you had me worried.”
“Spud, sorry. I should have told you I’d be off comm. I’ll let you know before we lift off from here that I’ll be off comm again. I’ll call you each time I’m on the ground.” She looked over at Cloud, who was watching her, amused. She just shook her head and rolled her eyes again, getting Cloud chuckling.
“Hubby a little on edge?”
“What the heck makes you say that?” she asked, the sarcasm dripping from her lips.
Watching Edge take off, Crow said, “If we want to beat him to Max Westheimer, we’d better get in the air ourselves.”
“Do I have time for a quick pee and some coffee?” Hank asked.
“Make it quick.”
Arriving back at the plane, Hank said, “The restroom was clean, but they had motor oil in the coffee pot.”
Cloud and Crow laughed. “Better get used to FBO coffee, Hank. They don’t have cute flight attendants like you who know how to make the stuff. And if they do, Murphy’s Law of Aviation says you’ll get the last cup from a pot that’s been sitting on a warming plate for hours.”
“Maybe that’s why it had the taste and consistency of asphalt binder,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Climb on in there,” Cloud said, “and go to the left seat in the cockpit.”
“The fuck you say. You’re going to have me fly it?”
“Why not? You’re going to need the hours, and this way you can get a little dual training in.”
Hot damn! She climbed in and took the pilot’s seat.
“Ok, Hank,” Cloud said. “It’s pretty much the same as starting the Archer, times two. Overhead switches are pretty much the same. Note, though: four mags, not two. Two starters, not one. Start one engine, then the other.”
Hank went through the engine start and then continued to let Cloud step her through getting the Seneca fully operational for flight.
“Taxi out the same way you always would. The nosewheel is linked to rudder, just like the Archer. But here’s a trick: if you want to turn a little sharper, just give one of the engines a little boost on the throttle. Want to make a sharp right, give the left engine a little more juice.”
She tried it. “Beats the hell out of jamming your foot to the floor.”
“I’ve made the radio call. Go ahead and position on the runway.”
Positioning the plane on the runway centerline, Cloud continued with, “Blue knobs are prop controls. Both full forward. Black is just what you think: throttles. Nice and smooth, advance both throttles at the same time.”
As she did so, the twin started on its takeoff roll. The sense of power she had was vastly greater than her experience with the Archer. Just one word for it: awesome! As the plane lifted off, she marveled at the higher performance of the airplane. What’s it going to be like when I get into the Latitude? She recognized that the experience was making her thirst to take her training to a higher level. Not even done with private pilot, and already I’m aching for something more.
“Ok, now you hear that beat? That’s your props operating at different rates. It’s just a bit different, but it’s annoying as all hell, especially if you have to listen to it for any length of time. You’re going to set your props for climb. What you do to get your props in sync is pull back on your prop levers to the climb setting – I’ll tell you what to set, and then adjust one of them up or down until you hear that beating stop. You’ll end up doing that again when we set cruise power.”
“How much longer before I get my private pilot? I’ve got to get into this baby.”
“Down, girl,” Cloud chuckled, accompanied by Crow who was riding in the back. “First, you get your instrument rating in the Archer. That’ll give you private pilot, single engine airplane and instrument pilot for ratings. Then we’ll get you into the Seneca for complex aircraft, multiengine aircraft, and commercial pilot. You’ll be Commercial pilot, Airplane, single- and multi-engine land, instrument airplane at that point. Then we bring in an instructor from Advanced Flight to get you your type rating for the Latitude. Sound fair?”
“Fucking awesome.”
“Sounds identical to what Edge said,” Crow remarked from the back seat.
Shortly into the flight, she noticed the Archer ahead of her.
“Which side are you going to pass him on?” Cloud asked.
“Regs say on the right.”
“Very good.”
As she came alongside, she rocked the yoke to waggle the Seneca’s wings. She noticed the Archer’s wings rock as well.
“I didn’t even notice when you guys passed me,” she said.
“That’s because we opted to fly the next westbound level above you, and you apparently weren’t looking up.”
“That was you? I saw the twin pass overhead, but all I could see was a blue belly. I didn’t see the white, otherwise I would have waved hello.”
“Ok. Let me give you a head up on arrival at Poplar Bluff. There’s nothing quirky about the airport, but what you’re about to learn is that landing a Seneca is a kind of art as well as science,” Cloud advised.
“How so?”
“She likes to float in ground effect. See that big candy bar wing out there? Once in ground effect, it really wants to keep flying. So here’s what you do: let it float right over the threshold, then cut your power and it will settle right in. Most of the time. The rest of the time you wake up any sleeping passengers in back, ‘cuz it’ll thump in.”
“You’ll rescue me, right?”
Cloud laughed. “Heck no! Flight instructors love telling stories about how their students scared them!”
Better not fuck up, Hank.
“Do you have your airport yet?”
“Dead ahead.”
“Good. Now here’s something else you need to know. Both those engines out there are turbocharged. You can’t just yank off power and drop on in like you do in the Archer. If you do that, the cylinders will cool too rapidly.”
“Shock cooling.”
“Exactly. So you’re going to reduce manifold pressure a couple of inches at a time, wait a bit, couple inches more, to keep you on your approach path to downwind. Got it?”
Cloud continued to talk her through the approach and landing, Hank following along on the controls, until she landed the aircraft.
“Now we get to wait a little bit for Edge to get here,” Crow said.
They took the time to get a new weather briefing, revise her flight log, and file a flight plan for the next leg of the flight. Just about the time they were finished, they spotted the Archer entering the downwind for landing.
“Perfect by-the-book pattern entry,” Crow remarked, watching the plane and listening to Edge’s radio calls.
“That’s my superior instructing,” Cloud said.
“As she would say,” Cloud retorted, pointing at Hank, “the fuck you say. He’s got more hours in his logbook given by me than by you.”
Edge taxied in and parked next to the Seneca, just as Hank had done on the previous leg.
“How was it?” she asked as Edge climbed out of the airplane.
“Awesome. I love every minute in the air.”
“You know,” Cloud began, “the two of you are just about equal in skill. But you get there in different ways. Hank, you work hard at it – and that’s great. Edge, you’re more of a natural flier – just have it in your blood. Both of you are going to make fine pilots. Crow and I are just going to have to convince the rest of the team that we need to up your flying time so that you’ll be ready when we need you on a mission where time is of the essence and both Latitudes have to be taken at the same time.”
Hank and Edge ‘high fived.’
“Oh, shit. I’m forgetting someone again,” Hank said. “
Spud, we’re on the ground in Missouri. I’ll be back in the air in the Archer just as soon as they get done fueling it.”
“Hank, how is riding in the Seneca?”
“Spud, ask, ‘How is flying the Seneca?’ Cloud had me at the controls. It’s awesome. I can’t wait to get my multiengine rating.”
I have to admit, she sounds like she’s having a blast. I shouldn’t have been such a wuss about her making these cross-country flights. “Sounds like you’re having fun. Have a safe flight. I’ll see you soon.”
Hank was smiling. “Is he still being a worry wart?” Cloud asked.
“Thankfully, no,” she said, climbing into the Archer. “See you in Oklahoma.”
Hank brought the Seneca into Roswell International, landing it smoothly. “Two for two,” she said.
“You’re landing this thing better than I can,” Cloud agreed.
“Beginner’s luck.”
Taxiing in to the FBO, she saw what she expected to see: Spud standing, watching her. She was glad to note the smile on his face as well. Voice was leaned up against a rented van, focused on his tablet.
She shut down the airplane and grabbed her flight bag, reorganizing the charts, plotters, nav logs and other paraphernalia as Crow and Cloud deplaned. Following them out, she saw that Spud had come up to the bottom of the wing walk.
“Have fun?” Spud asked.
“Oh, what a blast! I could fly this plane all day.”
“If you think this one is fun, wait until you get into the Latitude,” Cloud said. “She did great, Spud. She can land this bird better than I can.”
“I still say beginner’s luck.”
“Or maybe, thanks to me, you never learned bad habits.”
Turning to Spud, she said, “Here is where Crow and Cloud start arguing again over who’s the better instructor.” She watched the two pilots walk off, doing just that.
“You know the only bad thing about flying today?” she asked Spud.
“I thought you just got done saying it was awesome.”
“It’s had me so excited that now I’m horny as hell.”
Spud chuckled. “That’s bad?”
“Can’t do anything about it right now,” she said, smiling.
“I’ve got quarters all set up, so we can take care of that the minute we get to the Roswell complex.” He leaned and gave her a longing kiss.
“Don’t make me crazy here, Spud.” She looked to the sky. “Edge better hurry the fuck up.”
“Honestly, Hank, all your gear for the mission training exercise is sitting, waiting to be organized.”
“Oh, screw it all.”
“Just keep that thought until tonight, Love,” he admonished her. “Mission first.”
“That stinking motto can be a killer sometimes,” she noted. Looking back to the sky, she added, “Here he comes now.”
They watched as Edge flew the pattern, landed, and taxied up to park next to the Seneca. Getting out, he walked over to Hank, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. “We did it!” he said, grinning as he set her back down.
“Don’t get too free and easy with my wife,” Spud said, his tone joking.
“Oh, Spud,” Hank said, and gave Edge a kiss. “Won’t be long now, buddy. Then it’s get the instrument rating, build time, learn the Seneca, get into the Latitudes. I don’t know about you, but I seriously can’t wait.”
“If you’re going to let him smooch on you at every step of the way, I might just forbid this whole thing,” Spud said, still joking. It was crystal clear to him how much Hank was loving flying.
“And if you’re not careful, you’re going to find out that I can spell ‘fuck off’ d-i-v-o-r-c-e,” she said, equaling his humorous tone.
“Just having a little fun, Hank. Besides, if I thought he was getting fresh with you, I’d have punched him already.”
“We’ve got to hold up a bit while the linemen here get the Archer and Seneca put away with the Latitude,” Cloud said as he came up to the group. “Why don’t you grab some coffee, and we’ll come gather you up when we’re done?”
Walking into the FBO, Hank went over to the coffee pot and gave it a suspicious sniff.
“Now that’s a first,” Edge said. “You’re not going to just pour a cup?”
“I take it you haven’t had any of the FBO coffee on the way here,” she replied.
“Bad?”
“God-awful doesn’t even come close to describing it. I think used motor oil would taste better.” She sniffed again. “Doesn’t smell as bad as Ford. I swear, the coffee there tasted like it was drained from a Ford. A very old Ford.” She poured herself a cup and tentatively tasted it. “This is actually half-way decent.”
Voice was still face down with his tablet as they walked to take seats in the lobby.
“What’s got you preoccupied?” Hank asked him.
“Still trying to figure out what Hal’s hang-up is with the new comm routine.”
“What’s the problem?” Edge asked.
“It still can’t quite figure out who’s talking, so it keeps scrambling up the communications links. It will be talking to me, then it switches and starts passing the comm link to someone else. If Hal can’t keep the comm links correctly separated, we’ll lose simultaneous communications capability.”
“All set,” Cloud announced, coming into the lobby. “Let’s head ‘em up, move ‘em out.”
“Where’s Amigo?” Hank asked. “He didn’t want to come to the airport?”
“He’s helping Doc Rich and Janet get Medical cleaned up and organized. Doc Rich wasn’t happy with the state of the medical supplies, so they’ve had to toss a bunch of stuff and get it replaced with new,” Voice said.
Hank switched her attention to the terrain they were driving through. Typical Southwest desert, and pretty much flat out here. “For what Amigo and I were intending, we need a bit of terrain.”
“For that, you back track down to Roswell and take US 380 to the west,” Voice muttered, still concentrating on his programming.
“Here we are,” Cloud announced, turning off the highway and passing over a cattle guard.
To Hank, it just looked like what it originally was: an abandoned missile silo. Cloud drove the van to a spot adjacent to the old entrance to the silo complex and parked next to another van there.
“I hope the interior looks a whole lot different than the exterior,” she said. “We don’t have someone here who takes care of the place?”
“Sure. He just doesn’t live right here like Gil does in Nebraska,” Spud said. “But he comes in and checks on the base on a regular basis. When we’re here, he isn’t.”
“What does he do when he’s not taking care of us?”
Spud chuckled. “There’s an active missile silo installation near Roswell. He works there as a civilian contractor. I think the guy just likes missile silos.”
Hank got out of the van and walked with the group to the door of the complex. With a metallic creak, she heard something moving inside, then the door swung heavily until it was fully open. She examined the door frame and the edge of the door itself.
“That looks like a giant version of a bank vault,” she said, seeing the large, circular ends of the deadbolts that secured the door when it was closed.
“Basically, yes,” said Amigo, joining them from inside the complex. “And it recognizes the bum ticker, so it only opens when one of us approaches it.”
Hank walked in and made her way down the stairs. The appearance of the inside of the facility was in total contrast to the outside.
“Is the arrangement the same as Nebraska?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” Amigo said. “The former launch control complex is still Medical. Level 1 is the common area and library. There’s a weapons storage on Level 4 along with FT1 quarters. The rest is identical to the Lockridge Farm complex.”
“So I guess that puts Spud and me down on Level 7 again.”
“You’ve got the whole level to yourselv
es,” Amigo confirmed.
“I noticed the terrain is pretty flat on the way here,” Hank observed.
“True,” Amigo said. “But I went on a little scouting expedition before you got here and found some good places for the team to play. Some arroyos and low hills. Sandy stuff that will really give your legs a workout. And off to the west there’s some really rugged terrain that we can work in. Plus, elevations here start at about 3,700 feet above sea level, so your first two or three days you’ll feel like you can’t catch your breath while you’re running. If it was a little later in the year, the heat would get you as well.”
“Sounds like a good place for a hound and hare,” Hank said. “I put myself in line to be hare next time we did one of those. It shouldn’t be as easy trying to track me through this terrain as it was for us to track Crow at Quantico.”
Amigo laughed. “Yeah, but you didn’t have a guy from the Border Patrol tracking you last time.”
“You know that I learned what I know about tracking from the Border Patrol tracking team, right?”
“Oh, that sounds like a bet.”
Hank pulled out a quarter. “Put your money where your mouth is, Amigo.”
Amigo pulled out a quarter, and Hank walked over to Voice. Handing him the two coins, she said, “Amigo and I have a little bet going. Could you hold onto these for us?”
“Sure,” Voice muttered, taking the two quarters and stuffing them in a pocket.
“Voice, look at me,” Hank said.
He looked up.
“What did I just hand you?”
“Uh...”
“That’s what I thought. Check your pockets. I just gave you two quarters for a bet between me and Amigo, and you’re so absorbed in programming Hal that you don’t even remember taking them.”
“Sorry, Hank. I tend to get tunnel vision when I’m trying to get Hal to do something new.”
She shook her head. “Mission first. It’s going to be the death of us all.”
“Ok, baby birds,” Crow said. “Let’s see who flies first today. Call it, Edge.”
“Tails,” Edge said as the coin twirled up, then down, being caught by Crow and then slapped on the back of his hand. “And tails it is. So you, Hank, get to go to the testing center and get your written exam done.”