by Dale Brown
“That’s still not going to stop us from patrolling the South China Sea,” the vice president said, “and we’re going to put our aircraft on our carriers wherever we want. It was a silly statement for Zhou to make. They won’t risk a general war by attacking the United States, so when a ship goes through the area unmolested, it makes them look weak.”
“I agree with the vice president, sir: China wouldn’t dare attack an American aircraft carrier in the South China Sea,” Secretary of Defense Fredrick Hayes said.
“I agree too, sir,” Secretary of State Herbert Kevitch said. “All that statement will do is drive up the insurance rates for all ships going through the area—that’ll hurt their economy the worst because they rely on exports to drive their economy.”
“Bill?” the president asked his national security adviser.
“I’m not as positive as the others, sir,” Glenbrook said. “If the United States was up to full AirSea Battle strength, I’d be a lot more positive, but we’re barely holding on as it is. Like the general said, they have a lot of firepower in that region. If they challenged us, they could make it look ugly.”
“It was a bold statement that directly challenges every nation on Earth,” President Phoenix said. “It puts everyone on notice.” He looked at his vice president. “This makes it even more imperative to get that emergency funding for the full complement of McLanahan’s bombers, Ann, and perhaps get more funding for the Navy, Air Force, and Space Defense Force again as well.”
“I’ve got the budget staff working overtime on all that, Mr. President,” Ann Page said.
“How many of McLanahan’s bombers do we have on Guam now?”
“Eight, sir,” Hayes replied. “He has two more ready for deployment and two more being refurbished—that was all last year’s emergency funding allowed, and his company couldn’t afford to rebuild more with their own funds.”
“We’ll find the money,” President Phoenix said. “In the meantime, Fredrick, you are cleared to send additional forces to Guam per the plan put together by Pacific Command. I want Guam to turn into a fortress: air defense, ballistic missile defense, long-range surveillance, the works. Whatever Guam or the outlying Pacific islands need, I want in place. This is going to turn into another Midway mobilization.”
“Do you want to change the profile of McLanahan’s bombers, sir?” Secretary of Defense Hayes said. “Right now they just perform over-the-horizon reconnaissance for small groups of surface ships—they’re not armed. The other bombers on Guam are armed for ground attack and antiship missions. The wing commander says they’ve been practicing loading weapons on some of McLanahan’s bombers to make sure the remote weapons system works, but they’ve flown no missions with weapons aboard.”
Phoenix thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, allow McLanahan’s bombers to participate in all the wing’s activities, including alerts with live weapons,” he said. “I understand his bombers can carry air-to-air weapons as well?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Those are authorized as well.”
“Yes, sir. McLanahan’s XB-1s are equipped with a system called SPEAR that has the ability to not only jam radar and radios but to insert commands and even malicious code into enemy electronic sensors,” Hayes said. “Is that authorized?”
Phoenix shook his head ruefully. “My old buddy Patrick McLanahan and his high-tech toys,” he said with a smile. “Yes, authorized. How are things working out with the Navy?”
“McLanahan’s forces so far have had very little to do with the aircraft carriers or other Navy fighters,” Hayes replied. “They perform as part of a Surface Action Group, providing long-range reconnaissance for small groups of cruisers, destroyers, and frigates that aren’t part of a carrier strike group—surface ships that don’t have their own air assets. They haven’t tried coordinating strikes with carrier-based fighters or Navy cruise missile attacks. But as part of the SAG, they seem to be fitting in well. Overall, I’d say the program is working.”
“Excellent,” the president said. “We’ll find the extra money and get more of those Excaliburs out there.”
After the meeting broke up, Ann Page stayed behind with the president. He picked up a telephone. “Get General McLanahan on his personal communicator, please.”
A few moments later the phone rang, and the president picked it up: “McLanahan here, Mr. President.”
“Patrick, I’m going to get you the funding for the rest of the Excalibur program,” the president said. “But it may take some time. I wanted to ask you if you could go to your company once again for initial funding for the remainder of the fleet, and perhaps a little more for some of the other planes you said you were working on.”
SKY MASTERS INC. CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS, NORTHERN NEVADA INDUSTRIAL AIRPORT
THAT SAME TIME
“That is great news, Mr. President,” Patrick said. He had returned to Battle Mountain a day earlier to supervise the last of the XB-1s completing refurbishment and preparing to deploy. He was sitting in his office in the main hangar of Sky Masters Inc., which overlooked the final assembly area for the refurbished planes, talking with the president of the United States through his secure subcutaneous transceiver system. Through the large soundproof picture window behind him in his office he could see an XB-1 Excalibur at the head of the line closest to the hangar doors ready to be rolled outside, and an XF-111 SuperVark, a refurbished F-111G Aardvark medium supersonic bomber, was right behind it, still with a small knot of technicians around it finishing details. Like the B-1 bomber, the F-111 bomber was a swing-wing supersonic design, but it was originally intended to operate off aircraft carriers. Finally rejected by the Navy as being too big and cumbersome for carrier duty, the F-111 served an exemplary role in the U.S. Air Force as a medium and strategic bomber and electronic warfare platform, dropping 40 percent of the guided munitions in Operation Desert Storm before being retired shortly thereafter.
“I’ll schedule a meeting with the company president and ask her to go to the board and the shareholders and find out, sir,” Patrick said. “I’m looking at Excalibur number ten just rolling off the line, and we’re putting the finishing touches on the second refurbished XF-111 bomber.”
“That’s the one I was thinking about, the other swing-wing plane, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Patrick said. “It doesn’t have the long legs or payload of the XB-1, but it’s better than anything else in the Pacific right now.”
“Be in a position to put a few together to send out to Guam.”
“Yes, sir,” Patrick said. “I was watching the address by Foreign Minister Tang and General Zu. I guess they really believe they can dictate terms in the South China Sea.”
“Most everyone in the White House seems to think China won’t follow through,” Phoenix said. “I’m not so sure. Pacific Command came up with a plan to fortify the defenses around Guam and our other Pacific bases in the region, and I’ve ordered that implemented as well. With all of China’s saber-rattling going on, I think Congress will come up with the extra money. But no matter how belligerent China seems to be getting, somebody will squawk when we start talking about raiding their piggy bank.”
“If you’d like me to talk with the folks in Congress, sir, let me know,” Patrick said. “I’ve been out of uniform for a while now, but if you think it’ll help, I’ll be there.”
“You’ve been out of uniform but not out of the news, my friend,” the president said. “Everyone around here still winces when they hear your name. But a lot of people still admire and respect you—like me. We might have you come back and do just that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Patrick said. “I’ll even bring one of the Excaliburs. They have a jump seat—we can even offer congressmen and staffers some rides.”
“What about me?” the president asked. “I remember when President Martindale said he wanted to be the first sitting president to go into space. I nearly dropped my teeth when he said that. But I’d like to fly low-le
vel in one of your monstrosities. The First Lady would kill me, but I’d sure like to do it.”
“I can be at Andrews in four hours, sir—just say the word.”
“I think we both have enough work to do without going off on joy rides,” the president said. “But when all this is over with, I might take you up on that. Later.” And the connection was terminated.
“Kylie, ask Dr. Oglethorpe to come and see me,” Patrick called to his assistant. “And get me an appointment with Dr. Kaddiri for as soon as possible.” The first call he made was to Tom Hoffman. “I just spoke with President Phoenix,” he said. “He wants more Excaliburs and maybe even some XF-111 SuperVarks, but he doesn’t have the money and asked if our company can kick in for a few more until they get funding. I’ll have to go to the company board and find out how much money we can get advanced to us for more planes and training until the funds from Washington show.”
“Excellent, General,” Hoffman said. “I’ll call my next group of pilots and techs and get them started. They’ve already been doing academics, so I can have them headed out your way in a few weeks for flight, simulator, and hands-on maintenance training.”
“Bring them out as soon as you can, Tom.”
“Yes, sir!”
While Patrick was speaking to Hoffman, Linus Oglethorpe arrived in Patrick’s office. Oglethorpe was always amazed and amused to watch Patrick talking in midair with no phone or Bluetooth headset in sight. When he was done speaking with Hoffman, Patrick turned to him. “The president wants more Excaliburs and maybe even SuperVarks,” he said. Linus punched the air in triumph. “However, he doesn’t have the money, so I’m going to ask Helen to kick in. Where are we with the next batch of airframes?”
“We’ve received two from AMARG this past week, Patrick,” Linus said. “Both are in the stage-two inspection hangar ready to start detailed structural inspections. One airframe down at Davis-Monthan did not pass the stage-one inspection, and another is questionable, so you may assume we’re down to twenty. The rest have all completed stage-one inspections and are awaiting their train ride up here. We’ve identified forty-three F-111G and FB-111 airframes that are ready for stage-one inspections.”
“Great. I’m going to meet with Helen, hopefully soon, to see if we can get some advanced funds to start, and I’ll let you know when we can start shipping them up here.” Dr. Helen Kaddiri was the longtime president and chairman of the board for Sky Masters Inc. With multiple doctorates in both business and engineering, the exotic, almond-eyed woman from Calcutta, India, started out in the company as one of founder Jonathan Masters’s assistants. Helen’s resentment at having to work for the boyish, immature, free-spirited Jon Masters propelled her to quickly move her way up the corporate ladder just to get away from him, and she eventually became company president. “I don’t want to wait around for Washington to send contracts and money.”
“We shall be like sprinters in the starting blocks at the Olympics, waiting for you to fire the starter’s pistol, old chap,” Linus said excitedly. “We shall be ready!”
SEVEN
WARBIRDS FOREVER AVIATION, RENO-STEAD AIRPORT, RENO, NEVADA
THE NEXT DAY
Tom Hoffman found Brad McLanahan in the break room, sipping a bottle of water, surrounded by logbooks and paperwork. “Hey, Brad,” Hoffman greeted him. “Just get back from another early-morning lesson?”
“Yes, sir,” Brad said. He was wearing a white aviator’s shirt with epaulets and a captain’s four gold stripes on the epaulet tabs, silver civil aviation wings with a silver senior pilot’s star, a blue name tag, and a black tie—he looked every bit the professional aviator he had become. “Tom Cook. He wants to get his license on his seventeenth birthday, so he’s been taking dawn patrol lessons before school. You gotta admire that kind of drive.”
“I appreciate you doing that for him, Brad,” Hoffman said. “His grandfather is a good friend. Tom Cook lost his dad in Iraq.”
“I know. The kid’s pretty tough.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Unfortunately, typical pattern,” Brad replied. “He does real well when he can fly at least once a week, but if he drops to less than four lessons a month, we have to spend flight and ground time going over old stuff, and that’s a little frustrating for him. I bought him a PC flight simulator that he can play with at home to stay motivated.”
“Good idea.”
“If he comes in again this week, we’ll do a practice cross-country, and if he does okay I’ll sign him off for solo cross-countries, and then if he flies at least once a week, he should have no problem taking his practical before his birthday.”
“Sounds good,” Hoffman said. “With avgas prices going through the roof, I’m surprised anyone can still afford to fly. With all the junk going on with China and what seems like half of Asia, oil and food prices are going berserk.”
“Business really slowed down, didn’t it, sir?”
“Personal and some corporate flying have really tanked, and airplane rentals are almost zero, but higher-end corporate and cargo ops are hanging in there,” Hoffman replied. “The folks who can afford the warbirds and the big jets are still flying. But the ‘hundred-dollar hamburger’ fun flights that turned into the six-hundred-dollar hamburger have all but gone away.”
“The simulators are getting a good workout, though.”
“At least the pilots care enough about staying proficient to come in and get some simulator time when they can’t afford to fly,” Hoffman said. “Hopefully we’ll get a break with fuel prices soon.”
“It sure is looking weird,” Brad said. “I went to Walmart yesterday—the shelves are looking pretty bare all of a sudden.”
“Fewer container ships will risk sailing through the South China Sea with all the shooting going on out there,” Hoffman said. “I’ll bet it’ll start hurting China really bad if their exports dry up any more than they have already. The good news is, a lot of companies are talking about opening manufacturing plants in North America to replace the factories in China. We could actually get a boost in our economy. I’m seeing a lot of corporate execs coming out here looking for land outside Reno to build factories. I see good things ahead for America—we just need to hang in there.”
Hoffman held up an envelope. “I do have some good news for you, Brad. This is a first for me, in all my years of instructing: I’ve never seen an instructor get a tip.” He dropped the envelope on the table in front of Brad. “Only fifty dollars.”
“Fifty bucks is fifty bucks—I’ll take it!” Brad said happily. “The students lay out so much money for lessons, they never think about tipping—they think we’re all rich anyway. Who’s it from?”
“Jeff Keefe, your multiengine student,” Hoffman said. “He passed his check ride, no problems. He was so excited he could fly his own plane home he was dancing on the ramp. He included a card addressed to me with some nice comments about the work you did and the hustle, getting his multi in just one weekend.”
“He came prepared, he did everything I told him to do, and he worked his butt off,” Brad said. “He was a good student—he only tried to kill me once or twice.”
“He says he wants to come back for his instrument rating and maybe his commercial certificate,” Hoffman said. “We like repeat business around here.” He paused for a moment, then said, “You’ve been doing a hell of a job around here, Brad. The hard work is much appreciated. I don’t think there’s an assignment you’ve turned down.”
“I need the hours if I want to get my airline transport pilot rating sometime this decade.”
“You’re well on your way with that,” Hoffman said. “So much so that I’ve uploaded a new curriculum for you, if you’re interested. Take a look.”
Brad changed the page on his laptop computer to the new curriculum folder. His eyes grew wide as he read: “You’re kidding me, Colonel—this is the flight training program for the XB-1 Excaliburs!”
“Exactly,” Hoffman said. “Your
dad’s bomber refurbishing program has been expanded and put on a crash schedule. He got more funding for XB-1s and even some money for XF-111s, and they want those planes out on Guam fast.”
“Cool. So I can fly an Excalibur or SuperVark to Guam?” Brad asked incredulously.
“You still need your ATP to be pilot-in-command,” Hoffman explained, “but we got special papal dispensation from the FAA for ferry flights originating at Battle Mountain destined for a military base or outside the CONUS or reverse: if you have more than five hundred hours total time, a commercial certificate, a multiengine and instrument rating, and at least two hundred and fifty hours in multiengine jets, and you complete that course, you can be first officer. You’ll have the total hours soon; we’ll get you more flights in the Lear 35 and Gulfstream to get the rest of your jet time; and you’ve done such a good job around here that you deserve a great big attaboy.”
“That’s awesome!” Brad exclaimed, hopping to his feet. “I can’t believe it!”
“The course is not hard, but it’s long and pretty in-depth,” Hoffman said. “We also have to send you down to Edwards Air Force Base for altitude chamber, life support, flight physiology, spatial disorientation, and ejection seat training, and we may send you to Fallon for the Navy integration training your dad set up, but you’ll enjoy the heck out of all that. I’m on my way to Guam in an Excalibur tomorrow, and I’ll be out there to do some check rides. It should take you about a week to do the online course, another week for the simulator sessions, a week at Fallon, and a couple days at Edwards, and then I’ll come back to do the course in the jet itself and give you a check ride. It’ll be a good five weeks of training, but I think you can handle it. Interested?”