Brad nodded and stepped inside the hangar. But before beginning his preflight, he turned to the security camera up in the corner and said, “Thanks, Dad.”
Seconds later, he received a text on his smartphone. It read, You’re welcome, son. Fly safe.
OVER CENTRAL NEW MEXICO
THE NEXT DAY
“Pressure disconnect,” Boomer announced. Brad McLanahan pulled off some power and let the S-19 Midnight spaceplane slip back into precontact position behind and underneath the Sky Masters Aerospace’s B-767 aerial refueling tanker. The refueling boom retracted back up underneath the tanker’s tail.
“Showing you clear, Midnight Seven,” the computerized female voice of the robotic boom operator said. “Is there anything else we can do for you, Seven?”
“A cup of coffee would be nice,” Boomer said, “but failing that, we’ll say adios.”
The 767 tanker started a steep left turn. “Masters Three-One is clear, Seven,” the voice said. “Have a nice day.”
Boomer raised the visor on his Electronic Elastomeric Activity Suit’s oxygen helmet, observed the Midnight spaceplane’s computers run the “After Refueling” and “Before Hypersonic Flight” checklists, then looked over at Brad in the mission commander’s seat. Brad was wearing an ACES orange partial-pressure space suit and helmet; his gloved hands were on the sidestick controller and throttles on the center console, and he was comfortably seated, staring straight ahead as if he was watching TV on the sofa. Brad raised the visor on his helmet when he noticed Boomer had done so.
“You know, Brad, you’re the second passenger in a row that I’ve had that has watered my eyes.”
“Say again?” Brad said.
“First President Phoenix, and now you: both you guys are acting as if you’ve been astronauts for years,” Boomer said. “You fly the spaceplane like a pro. You look totally at home.”
“It’s really not that much different than the B-1B bomber, Boomer,” Brad said. Sky Masters Aerospace under Patrick McLanahan had refurbished a number of retired B-1B Lancer bombers and returned them to service, and Brad had trained to ferry the planes from Battle Mountain to Guam to counter the People’s Republic of China’s aggressive moves against its neighbors in the South China Sea. “It’s a lot sprightlier at higher airspeeds, but subsonic it handles very much like the Bone, and the sight picture at the contact position under the tanker is almost exactly like the B-1.”
“Well, I’m impressed,” Boomer said. “You’ve been hand-flying it for almost the entire flight, and from the right seat no less, and wearing a space suit and bulky space-suit gloves to boot. Ready for the next step?”
“You bet I am, Boomer,” Brad said.
“I’ll just bet you are,” Boomer said. “Now, up until now the worst G-load you’ve pulled was about two, but now it’s going to get a little more intense. We’ll only pull about four Gs maximum, but you’ll feel them for a longer period of time. I’ll let you hand-fly it, but if the Gs get to be too much, let me know and I’ll let George the autopilot fly it. Remember the weight of your fingers will be almost a pound each. Don’t try to tough it out—say something and I’ll turn the autopilot on.”
“I will, Boomer.”
“Good. Casey?”
“Yes, Boomer?” Casey Huggins replied. She was in the spaceplane’s passenger module in the cargo bay with Jessica “Gonzo” Faulkner. Casey was wearing her partial-pressure space suit with her visor closed; Gonzo was wearing her skintight EEAS.
“Remember what we told you about the G-forces,” Boomer said. “If you’ve been on a roller coaster before, you’ve felt pressure like you’re going to feel, only it’ll last longer. Your seat will help you stay ahead of the pressure. Ready?”
“I’m ready, Boomer.”
“Gonzo?”
“Ready.”
“Brad?”
“I’m ready.”
“Then prepare for some fun, mission commander,” Boomer said to Brad. “You’ve got your flight director in front of you. I’ve got your throttles. Keep the flight director centered, just as if you were flying an instrument-landing-system cue. We’ll start out at around twelve degrees nose up, but as the speed picks up it’ll go higher. Like you said, the S-19 likes to go fast, so it’ll feel very light on the controls the faster it gets until we’re above the atmosphere and the control sticks switch to reaction-control mode, and then it’ll be kind of a pig. I show us at the insertion window now. Checklists are complete. Here we go.”