CHAPTER XIV
Check Pilot
Rick had joined in the enthusiasm for moving up the date of the Pegasusshoot, but as he gazed around the project he began to wonder if theyhadn't all been carried away. There were parts and pieces everywhere. Hecouldn't begin to make heads or tails out of all the confusion.
Fortunately, he didn't have to. Now that zero hour was closer, theconfusion turned into order like a miracle.
Rick continued to work on the drone section. The drone mechanism wasactually in two parts. The part on which Rick worked was to be installedin the rocket. The other part would be installed in the blockhouse whereit would be operated by the drone pilot.
Dick Earle maintained a constant check on the work, and Frank Miller wasalways on hand. Miller had designed the drone system, based onprinciples developed by Dr. Bond and other pioneers. As Rick worked, helearned how the system operated. The drone pilot in the blockhouse satat a panel on which normal plane controls were duplicated in miniature.In front of him were elaborate radar screens. The drone pilot watchedthe radar screens and "flew" the rocket. As he moved the controls, codesignals were transmitted and picked up by the unit inside the rocketwhere they were translated into mechanical movements of the rocket'scontrol surfaces by the number of servomotors.
Rick had to consult with Frank Miller several times, and he began togrow apprehensive about the design engineer's health. Miller's face wasgray with pain most of the time, and he often held both hands on hisstomach when he thought no one was watching. Rick mentioned it to DickEarle.
"I know," Earle said. "I've tried to get him out of here, at least tosee the doctor, but he won't go. He says there'll be plenty of time whenthe shoot is over."
Then, in the coolness of a Scarlet Lake dawn, Lieutenant Colonel JerryLipton, one of the Air Force's crack pilots, arrived in one of thelatest jet trainers. The staff of Pegasus greeted him and got to work atonce. The jet trainer would take the place of the rocket for testingpurposes.
This was the field test of the drone system--the only time it would bechecked in actual flight until the day of use. While Rick, Dr. Bond, andDick Earle installed the flying portion of the system in the plane,Gee-Gee Gould, Phil Sherman, and Charlie Kassick installed the controlsection in the blockhouse.
The installation took all day. The sun was dropping behind theblockhouse when final checks were made.
A guard arrived at Dick Earle's summons and mounted watch on the plane.Another guard was always on duty at the blockhouse, and still another atthe now fenced-in pad where the sections of Pegasus were beingassembled.
The staff secured for the night. Test flight was scheduled formidmorning. Rick had asked, and been given permission, to see the testfrom the blockhouse. Jerry Lipton would run the blockhouse controls.Another test pilot, who was driving up from the big test station atMuroc Dry Lake, was due in the morning to serve as check pilot in thedrone-controlled jet trainer.
Rick went back to his barracks filled with excitement. The flying horsewas about to try his brains, if not his wings. Zero hour was gettingclose.
When Scotty asked how things were coming, Rick described theiractivities in enthusiastic detail. But Scotty only grinned. "I didn'twant a connection-by-connection description of each circuit in therocket. What I meant was, is there anything new on the Earthman?"
Rick shook his head. "I've kept my eyes open, but everything's normal asSunday at home."
Scotty got serious. "Better be alert every second. Don't forget, boy.You're now sitting on the target."
"You're dead right," Rick agreed, somewhat subdued. "How are you doing?"
"Not bad. I have a list of eight people who go in and out of thewarehouses regularly. They go in and out so often none of them wouldeven be noticed. Also, I think I know how the transistors and servoswere taken out."
Rick stared. "Honest?"
"I think so. Ever notice how the cleaning men work? They have carts. Bigones, made of metal. At one end is a kind of well, for brooms, mops, andthe vacuum cleaner wand and tubes. But most of the cart is just a metalbox. The sides open. They carry rags, soap, that sawdust stuff for thefloor, and so on. Get the picture? The warehouse janitor could have hadempty boxes all ready inside his cart. Then, in about two minutes flat,he could have changed them for full boxes."
"You've got something there," Rick said with excitement. "Any idea whichjanitor?"
Scotty nodded. "The one who gets the warehouses to clean most often is acharacter named Dusty Rhoads. He's in and out a dozen times a day,pushing his wagon. He empties the waste cans and sweeps up and generallyputs things in order. No one even notices him."
"Have you reported this to Preston or John Gordon?"
"No. It's only an idea so far. No evidence at all. There's nothing toconnect him with Mac or Pancho."
"Well," Rick said, "you're sure making faster progress than I am.There's absolutely nothing suspicious at the project, and, believe me,I'm watching closely."
Morning brought trouble, but not of the suspicious kind. LieutenantColonel Jerry Lipton walked into the project shed with a note in hishand.
"Test is off," the pilot said. "For today at least."
Dick Earle motioned to Rick. "Get Dr. Bernais."
Rick rushed to the phone and called the project technical director. Dr.Bernais promised to come over at once. He wasted no time, arrivingalmost before Rick had a chance to report back to Dick Earle. With himwas John Gordon.
Jerry Lipton greeted them. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. The other pilotcracked up in his car last night on Route 66 just west of Barstow. He'snot in bad shape, but he won't be flying for a week or two. We can getanother pilot, but it will take a day."
"We can't spare a day," Bernais said forcefully. "Surely there must besomething we can do!"
John Gordon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You've controlled drones manytimes, Colonel. Is there anything unusual about this job?"
"There is nothing unusual about the test we're going to run. There willbe plenty unusual about the actual rocket flight," Lipton replied.
"Then the pilot who sits in the plane doesn't necessarily have to bewhat you might call a 'hot shot'?"
Lipton shrugged. "Not particularly. He only takes over if the dronecontrol goes out."
"Then any pilot would do?"
"Any pilot who could handle the jet."
Rick wondered what Gordon was leading up to.
"Then why can't we find a check pilot here on the base?"
Rick now understood what Gordon was leading up to!
"We could do that," Lipton agreed. "Do you have any pilots on hand?"
Gordon turned suddenly and looked straight at Rick. "Don't I recall thatyou were flying your own plane when you worked on that job atSpindrift?"
Rick gulped. "Yes, sir. I fly my own plane. But it isn't a jet, sir!"
"What is it?" Lipton asked.
Rick named it.
"Ever fly a jet?"
Rick had, and for the moment he was sorry. Thanks to his friends atJANIG, he had been given an opportunity to try out a Navy jet trainerafter the case of _The Wailing Octopus_ in the Virgin Islands. SteveAmes had made special arrangements at the Naval Air Station when Rickwistfully said he would like to fly a jet just once.
Lipton studied him. "Hmmm. This jet is hotter than those trainers by afactor of three, except in landing. Since landing is the criticalfactor, I'll buy it. First, though, we'll take a little ride."
Rick was filled with mixed excitement and apprehension.
"I'll be glad to try, sir," he said, with more confidence than he felt.
The test pilot rode to the lake bed with Rick in the jeep. On the way heinspected the boy critically. "You're pretty young," he said at last.
"Yes, sir," Rick said, thinking that Lipton wasn't very old himself,especially for his rank.
"Remember the first rule of flying?"
"Yes, sir. Keep your nerve and your flying speed."
"Correct. Remember that, and follow it, and y
ou'll have no trouble."
Lipton followed with a rapid-fire description of instruments, controls,and procedures that left Rick's mind reeling. Finally the test pilotproduced a check list. "Think you can follow it?"
Rick swallowed hard. "Can I sit in the plane for a few minutes andstudy, sir?"
Lipton smiled. "Sure. Call me when you're ready."
Rick climbed into the pilot's seat and took the stick, put his feet inthe stirrups, and started getting acquainted with the feel of thecontrols while eyes and brain concentrated on the incredible clutter ofinstruments that every pilot has to know better than the working of hisown hand.
More study wouldn't help. It was now or never. He called to the pilot."Ready, sir."
Lipton climbed up on the wing and motioned to Rick to put on the helmetand plug in his phones. There was a spare helmet-and-phone set in therear seat for the Air Force officer. Rick switched the radio on andheard the soft hum of dynamotors. He cleared his throat and asked, "Doyou read me?"
"All right, Rick. Follow your check list and start the blowtorch going."
Rick mopped sweat from his face and went through the starting procedure.The jet flared into sudden life with a roar.
"Ready to taxi," he said.
"Roger. Proceed when ready."
Cautiously Rick fed throttle, aware of the tremendous power under hishand--power that could be deadly if misused. Using the brakes he turnedthe jet and then let it roll forward to the edge of the black strip thatmarked the runway.
"Ready to take off, sir," he said.
"Roger. Fire away."
He made a quick survey of the sky to be sure no other aircraft were inthe vicinity. There was no control tower with which to check out. Now!He made himself relax a little and pushed the throttle to take-offposition.
Fast acceleration snapped him back against the seat. The jet began towander a little and he corrected automatically, and almostovercorrected! With infinite care he straightened out again, just as theplane was air-borne. Eyes riveted on the horizon, he felt for the switchthat pulled up the landing gear and felt the plane spurt ahead as thedrag of wheels and struts was removed.
Lipton's voice came through the phones, relaxed and a little amused. "Noneed to treat this bucket of bolts like a baby, Rick. You've got powerto burn. Go, man! Make like a bird!"
Rick had to grin. He was flying automatically, as he flew his own SkyWagon. But Lipton was right. This was a jet, not a low-powered sportsplane. Suddenly exuberant he cracked the throttle and stood the jet onits tail. It climbed vertically, an amazing sensation for Rick. Power toburn!
The altimeter read ten thousand feet. He asked, "Can I sort of toss itaround a little?"
Lipton chuckled. "You're flying, and I have a strong stomach."
Rick kicked the plane over and let it drop, saw the Nevada mountainsrushing up to meet him. He leveled off and pulled into a tight turn,much as he might turn the Sky Wagon. G forces slammed him into thebucket seat and the world went gray as blood drained from his head.
"Let up," Lipton snapped.
Rick corrected groggily. Wow! He had forgotten that power had itslimitations, too. A tight turn meant pulling too many G's--too manytimes the force of gravity--for safety. "Sorry," he said huskily.
"It's all right. Feel your way."
Rick did so, for an ecstatic ten minutes, then, realizing that time wasmoving and he was burning fuel at a terrific rate, he asked reluctantly,"What now, sir?"
"Let's go home," Lipton said calmly.
Landing was the tricky part. He hurriedly read through the landingcheckoff list, then started in. Flaps, throttle setting. Then, wheelsdown and locked. Air speed correct.
"Better keep flying speed," he thought grimly. "This bucket has thegliding angle of a brick."
For a moment habit almost fouled him up again, as he waited for theplane to "sell out," then he remembered that he had to fly it in. Withan anxious eye on his air-speed indicator he gave it a little morethrottle, then felt the struts compress as the wheels hit. He choppedthe throttle and tried out the brakes with tender care. He didn't intendto flip them over through carelessness now. Gradually he brought the jetto a halt, reset flaps, and then rolled the plane back to their startingpoint. After he had killed the engine he just sat there, too limp tomove. Then, slowly, and with vast relief, he started to get up.
Jerry Lipton, who had climbed out on the wing, reached over and put ahand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?"
Rick looked up in surprise. "I was getting out, sir."
"Stay put. I'm getting out. You're going for another ride."
He asked weakly, "Right now, sir?"
"No time like the present," Lipton said. He grinned. "How did you likeit?"
Rick returned the grin. "I guess you know the answer to that."
"I guess I do. It was a good flight, Rick. You only let your normalhabits get in the way twice, and you corrected fast both times. Keepyour helmet on now. I'll be talking to you from the blockhouse in fiveminutes."
It was less than that. Apparently Dick Earle and the staff had thecontrol circuits warmed and ready.
Lipton's voice came through the phones. "Visual take-off, Rick. Theradar will pick you up at five hundred feet. I may overcontrol a littleuntil I'm used to the equipment, but don't let it bother you. Do nottake control yourself unless I give the word. There is one exception. Ifwe lose communication in anyway, take over at once and bring it in. Now,repeat back."
"I will not take over controls, except on order from you. Ifcommunications fail, I will assume control at once and land the plane."
"Correct. Now, switch on. Start 'er up."
Rick did so.
"Release all controls and sit back. I am now controlling."
"Roger. Controls are all yours."
Servomotors held the brakes and advanced the throttle. The plane turnedand taxied to the end of the runway. Rick sat there, trying not to feeluneasy. Just the same, it was weird to realize that Jerry was handlingthe plane from within the blockhouse.
"Take off. Here goes."
The roar increased and the plane picked up speed. Rick marveled as itlifted smoothly and the wheels retracted. Then, almost before herealized it, the plane had climbed and the earphones emitted, "I havelost visual contact. You are now under control by radarscope."
The jet climbed rapidly, then started through a series of maneuvers.Rick began to enjoy it. But the flight was almost over. "I'm bringingyou in," the pilot said.
The plane turned, leveled, and the throttle was retarded. The nosedropped, in perfect alignment with the runway.
"You're off the scope and I have you on visual contact. Have faith, boy.You're almost home."
Rick braced himself and waited for the shock of landing. There was none.The jet skimmed along the runway, touched wheels, and settled sosmoothly he couldn't have said exactly when the plane touched down.
Lipton, Earle, and the staff came hurrying from the blockhouse. Rickclimbed down, pulling the helmet off hair that was swimming-wet withperspiration.
Now the brains for winged horse had been tried and proved. Rick lookedat the great rocket, almost hidden by the crane and its equipment. Soon,he thought. Soon Pegasus would make the payoff flight!