The Ship: The New Frontiers Series, Book One Page 18

  “What if both impellers on one corner go out, Morty?”

  “I think the craft could still be landed. It wouldn’t be easy, but it could be done. The pilot would have his hands full, that’s for sure. Use the two diagonal systems to provide lift, use the one corner that’s still under control to keep the unit balanced as it lands. The controls are pretty responsive. Might be a hard landing, but I think it would be survivable. We can try something like that by supporting the Bedstead on cables, then try cutting power to a corner. See whether the system really will balance it long enough to get on the ground.”

  “Hairy. I’m looking at this from the pilot’s perspective.”

  “Hairy indeed. But survivable, I hope. Otherwise, the pilot and any passengers are screwed.”

  #

  The Twin Otter had never been named. A fast paint job added a ‘1’ to the vertical stabilizer and that was deemed good enough. Maybe planes would get names later on. For now, it was simply Airplane One.

  Prepping and ground testing had taken almost three weeks. Will had conducted some of the tests himself. He’d pushed hard, taxiing slowly at first using the turboprops while looking for any crabbing or unusual feel from the controls, then increasing the speed. Satisfied, he switched to a combination of turboprop and impeller power. Chuck, still favoring his sore ribs, had climbed in and strapped into the new flight engineer’s station, located behind the copilot’s seat. He’d followed Will’s instructions faithfully, adding power to the impellers when ordered, then shutting them down one at a time to see how that affected the plane’s handling characteristics. During and immediately after each test, Will recorded his observations. He would translate his verbal notes later and compile a written log of all that had been done.

  The final ground test used impeller only, starting on the apron of the runway. Will ordered full power at the beginning, asking Chuck to dial it back as soon as the plane was moving.

  Chuck kept a separate record of his own test results, compiling battery consumption numbers in relation to power setting and noting down which impeller trim settings Will selected. The final test had seen them rolling rapidly down the runway, approaching takeoff speed, before Will ordered Chuck to dial the impellers back to idle. He taxied back to the parking area using only the turboprops, then shut down the engines.

  Will helped steady Chuck as he climbed down from the plane.

  “I don’t know if you noticed, but I had enough speed to take off during that last test. I held her on the ground and then backed off, but I’m confident we won’t have a problem. Ready for a flight test tomorrow?”

  “I’m ready. Just don’t bend the bird, I might have a tough time getting out if you rip the wings off.”

  “Don’t worry about it. That almost never happens.”

  “Almost? Are you serious?”

  “Sort of. It’s been known to happen. Not to me, though. I’m one of those old and not very bold pilots you hear about. I want to live to spend some of the billions we’ll make from owning our own asteroids.”

  “Me too. Grandpa would never forgive me if I got myself killed. I came closer three weeks ago than I like to think about!”

  “And is your grandpa the only one who might miss you, Chuck?”

  “Certainly not, Will. If you didn’t have me, who would be crazy enough to fly with you while you tested this contraption?”

  The two grinned at each other, both aware that Will’s question had referred to Lina, who managed to be there at the end of every testing session. She often walked off with Chuck and the two had their arms comfortable around each other’s waist. But Chuck had adroitly deflected the question.

  The two understood each other and found no need to discuss Chuck and Lina’s increasingly-affectionate relationship.

  #

  Sol Goldman was afraid. Not so much because of his unfamiliar surroundings, although he’d never been in a place like this, but because he sensed the precariousness of his position. The world he’d learned to live in was shaky, and many of the things Sol had taken for granted were no longer assured.

  The bar was a dive, no question about it. Fortunately for Sol’s peace of mind, only one old woman sat nursing a beer at the bar. Sol took off his coat and tie, unbuttoned his collar, and rolled up his sleeves. He still didn’t look like the sort who’d frequent this place, but on the other hand he didn’t look like the successful business executive he was. Ordering a beer, Sol carried it and his rolled-up coat and tie to a booth near the back. With luck, he wouldn’t have long to wait.

  Sipping at his beer, Sol watched the door, waiting. Ten minutes later Walter walked in. He stopped at the bar long enough to order a beer for himself, then joined Sol in the booth.

  “I got held up. Business...it took longer than I expected. Anyway, the burgers here aren’t bad. You want something to eat?”

  “I’ll pass, Walter. I may have more work for you.”

  “I’ve got time. That was what the holdup was about, my being paid. Guy owed me and we discussed the matter. He saw things my way, but it took a while. Anyway, what kind of work?”

  “That message I had you send Frenchy, I don’t know if he got it. At any rate, the only thing he’s done is go low-key. It took a while to find him, but he’s still going ahead. My friends are with me on this, and we think he’s dangerous. Frenchy’s not a bad guy, but he’s a loose cannon. He has no idea of how dangerous he is, he’s a threat to the whole economy.”

  “And that’s why you’re after him, because he threatens the economy? Mister Gold, I know you’re the guy with money and you’re looking to hand me some of it, but I’ve got to say that sounds a little fishy.”

  “I’m not the only one, Walter. I’m here because I know you, and we’ve worked together before. That’s the only reason.”

  “So this threat you’re talking about; this guy Frenchy will cost you money? Is that what it’s about?”

  “Well, it’s more than that.”

  “Look, you need to open up a little. I can always go somewhere and off somebody, but that doesn’t sound like what you want. The more information I have, the better chance I have to do what you really want, stop this guy from doing whatever the hell he’s doing. What is that, anyway?”

  “He’s building a device. We don’t really know if it’s going to work the way he thinks it will, but the threat’s real enough. There are too many jobs and too much money riding on this for us to ignore what he’s doing. He’s built a factory, so he’s further along than I had hoped and it won’t be easy to shut down. He’s spent quite a lot of money...chasing down how much took me a while, but I understand finance and spending, and that’s how I found him. People associated with him have been spending money, quite a lot of it. Anyway, his factory’s out in the middle of nowhere so it won’t be easy to get to, but I want it shut down.”

  “So where is this place?”

  “Northeastern New Mexico. He owns the land, Frenchy does, so there was nothing I could do to stop him. I tried to close off his financing, but still he managed to get money from somewhere.”

  “So if this factory caught fire, that would work for you?”

  “Probably. But like I said, it’s surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. Not even a town, it’s just out in the middle of a pasture or something. How would you burn it?”

  “If it’s out in the boonies, that makes it easy. All I have to do is get close and set the brush on fire. New Mexico’s pretty dry, they have a lot of forest fires and brush fires. Grass fires too, now that I think about it.”

  “You’re well informed, Walter.”

  “That’s how I work, Mister Gold. I read a lot, watch the news, you never know when something will come in handy.”

  “So how would you get into position to set this fire? It’s private land, if anyone saw you they’d know you didn’t belong there.”

  “I’ll just do what I always do in a case like this, hire people who know what they’re doing. I’d go along to make sure they do
a good job, but there are people who know about sneaking around in the woods and brush. Ex-soldiers mostly, but there are others too. Russians, even a few who were merc’s in Africa. They’re available. It’s just a matter of picking people who have the skills and don’t care what they do so long as they get paid for it. It won’t be cheap.”

  Sol nodded, then took a pen from his shirt pocket. Picking up a napkin, he wrote a number on it.

  “Would that work?”

  Walter glanced at the number and smiled.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chuck and Mel were drinking coffee in the hangar.

  “How long before you plan on doing flight tests on the Bedstead?”

  “We’re starting tonight, Chuck. I’ll start with stability tests, then do maneuverability testing while the engineers look at the data. We’re expecting a weather front to move in later this week, and I’ll do some wind tests while I can to see how that affects handling. I’ll stay low, though, probably under ten feet. I’ll run that course you set up, the one that goes through the canyon before circling back here. We’ve got basic flight instruments on the panel now, so I’ll eventually try an instrument flight and landing as soon as I know how responsive the system is. It’ll take a few weeks to get all the tests completed. Eventually we’ll need to do high altitude testing.”

  “I’ve also got flight instruments on my panel on the Twin Otter. Will wants me to try flying it from the backseat, using only the impeller controls. The controls for the turboprops are up front, but in theory I should be able to control the Twin using impellers alone, maybe even land it.”

  “No stick or rudder controls?”

  “No. I shouldn’t need them, and if we’re wrong, Will can take over. I’ll control yaw, turn left or right that is, by advancing or retarding the impeller power settings. I can control pitch with the trim controls. It probably won’t be pretty, because I won’t have much roll control. All I can do is trim one impeller up and the other down to set up a bank, then bring both impellers up to complete the turn. I’m playing with a difference of ten degrees at most, and an impeller turn isn’t as quick as using the ailerons and the elevator anyway. A precision turn just isn’t possible, but maybe impeller control would work in an emergency. Anyway, I can shut off the impellers and Will can take over if it looks like things aren’t working. We’ll be somewhere around ten thousand feet, giving us plenty of airspace to recover.

  “I’m more concerned about you, Mel. The Bedstead was never intended to operate at altitude. Grandpa flew it to about forty feet, the original model I mean, but it was touchy when he did. It was unstable and he didn’t stay up there long. The computer controlled the flight and he didn’t try any sharp turns.”

  “We’re going to have to go higher if we’re going to take this system into space. You and Will are flying in the atmosphere, using wings and flight controls mostly, but the spaceship has to go beyond that. We won’t know if everything works until we try it in space. Maybe not go into orbit, but above the stratosphere at least. Take it to where there’s not enough air for the controls to bite.”

  “I understand the need, but I’m still a little concerned.”

  “Chuck, would you fly the tests?”

  “Mel, I intended to. Right now, I’m stove up from crashing the King, plus the team produced an aerial system earlier than I expected. I can’t do both. Will and I agreed that I was the best guy for the Twin Otter testing, but I’m worried about you. Have you thought about a parachute for yourself? Maybe a sports chute?”

  “Chuck, I wouldn’t know a damned thing about jumping. I put that cargo chute on the Bedstead for just that reason. I’ll be strapped into the seat if I have to deploy the chute and that should keep me from being killed. I don’t really expect to need it, it’s just there as insurance. It’s also protection for the Bedstead. We’ve got a lot of time and money tied up in that thing.”

  “Test pilots wear a chute, Mel. That’s real insurance.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be all right. You just worry about you and Will. The Twin doesn’t have any parachutes at all, and you’ll be flying at ten or twelve thousand feet.”

  “I considered that, but with my busted ribs I couldn’t get out fast enough anyway. No reason to worry. Will has thousands of hours of flight time, and anyway we’ve got two power systems to work with. Not to mention a runway with plenty of taxi space.”

  Mel left to check the battery installation on the Bedstead. Chuck finished his coffee and walked out to the King. No question about it, the frame was bent, the deck had buckled, and the starboard aft impeller had sheared off. It would require a major rebuild. He worked out ideas in his head as he walked around, studying the damage. He was engaged in this when Morty walked in.

  “Hi, grandpa. Come down to look at Chuck’s Catastrophe?”

  “No, I wanted you to know that we got the first truckload of aluminum from that salvage company. Some of it’s trash, but some should be usable. The skin panels and struts might have to be heated to anneal them. That’s fairly simple, but it will have to be done if we expect to use the aluminum on that ship we don’t talk about.”

  “Still cheaper than buying new, I think. Any plans for that one?”

  “Sure do. I’ve got drawings and some specs in my computer. That’s preliminary data only, I want to talk to the engineers and probably to Lina. I’m also planning to hire an aeronautical engineer to oversee the building project.”

  “Lina, grandpa?”

  “Right, she’s almost finished with her masters in architectural design. Might as well get her input.”

  “That makes sense. Grandpa, are you all right? You still don’t look so good. Why don’t you take a couple of days off, get some rest. Maybe go into town, check into a motel, see a movie. Have a couple of good dinners. Relax. You’ll be ready for another 78 years when you get back!”

  “It’s 79, grandson. But I’ll be okay. I’ve always worked hard, you know that. It’s what I do.”

  “I know. Maybe it’s what you used to do. Now it’s time to sit back, let me pick up some of the load. More of the load, I mean.”

  “I’ll think about it. Maybe after your ribs heal up. When are you taking the Twin up?”

  “Probably just before dusk. Will should be waking up about now. We’ll do a checkout of the plane and when it’s dark enough, we’ll go.”

  “Flying the tests in the dark? I’m not sure I like that. No one is likely to notice the impellers where we mounted them.”

  “They might notice when we shut down the engines and the props stop spinning.”

  “I suppose. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll see you when the test is over.”

  #

  Will and Chuck did a preflight inspection, walking around the Twin. No longer a ‘Twin Otter’, it now had two Sneyd-Tesla impellers slung from mounts inboard from the engines. Less that six inches of clearance existed on each side of the impellers. They fitted between the propeller arc and the fuselage. The light needed for the inspection came from the dim glow of the shielded runway lights.

  Chuck watched as Will wrapped his hands around the smooth front of the impeller housing and gave it a hard yank, checking to make sure it was firmly mounted. Satisfied, he continued with his inspection, checking ailerons and elevators as well as the state of the tires. When he reached the other impeller he gave it the same treatment. Finishing up, he helped Chuck into the passenger compartment and stowed the small ladder.

  “Ribs still hurting, Chuck?”

  “Some. They’re getting better, though.”

  “Good. I’m not expecting a rough ride, but when you’re flight-testing you’re never really sure. I plan to keep the speed in the middle of the envelope today, just take her up and fly. This bird isn’t stressed for aerobatics anyway. Mostly it hauls cargo or passengers into remote areas that don’t have airports, not the kind that can handle bigger planes. That’s where the short takeoff and landing capability comes in. It’s a good transport
plane for parachutists, too. Anyway, you get settled in, I’ll warm up the engines.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Will.”

  Will settled into the cockpit and started the two turboprops. He ran through a number of other checks, including establishing radio contact with Morty. Satisfied, he spoke to Chuck over the intercom.

  “Ready?”

  “Wind her up, Captain.”

  Will didn’t respond verbally, but the fuselage quivered as the Twin began moving. For the moment, Chuck had nothing to do. The computer screen showed a blinking green square in the upper left corner, indicating that the system was operating. The two virtual gauges that would register power usage by the impellers indicated zero. The trim controls were set to neutral, the small joystick centered.

  Chuck kept an eye on his panel of flight instruments. The altimeter hadn’t changed, nor had the artificial horizon. As he watched, the airspeed indicator quivered, then began moving up the dial. He glanced at the window, but there was little to see. The moon wasn’t up. Suddenly the shaking stopped. The Twin was airborne.

  Will set the controls for a gentle climb straight ahead. There was still nothing to see outside the windows, so Chuck watched his flight instruments. Not much was happening. The airspeed indicator had stabilized at 140 knots, then slowly crept up to 150. The plane was now cruising at an altitude of 4500 feet.

  The intercom clicked as Will pressed the talk button. “I’m ready to start the test now, Chuck. Set your impellers for two percent impulse.”

  “Copy, Will. Two percent it is.” Chuck gently rotated the thumbwheel set into the panel. This version didn’t have the motorcycle-style throttle controls. Looking at the gauge, he reported to Will. “Two percent set. Two percent thrust indicated.”

  The airspeed indicator crept up to 153 knots. The power indicators for battery amps barely registered.

  The plane slowed to 150 knots as Will reduced power. Satisfied, he clicked the intercom again. “Increase impellers to ten percent. Take it slow so I can watch what’s happening.”