honor at the primary taxiway leading to the main runway. Even from this distance, the vehicle was a technological wonder to behold.
The Skyward was slung underneath its carrier plane, the Lodestar. Like a mother hen, the wing-shaped Lodestar sat atop the spaceplane, which nestled into the curvature of the larger aircraft’s concave underside and was already in place for the launch in two hours.
The most distinctive feature of both the Lodestar and the Skyward was the unusual design of their fuselages. The carbon-fiber bodywork was constructed with criss-crossing struts that seemed to be oriented in a haphazard fashion. The delicate-looking framework was optimized to provide the maximum strength to the spaceplane for its weight, much like the hollow bones of a bird. The spaces in between the struts were filled with state-of-the-art polymer windows that gave intrepid passengers a 180-degree view of the Earth when the spaceplane reached its maximum altitude of seventy miles.
Colchev had been following the news about the Skyward ever since its existence had been made public. By acquiring the rights to use Burt Rutan’s SpaceShipTwo, Richard Branson’s company Virgin Galactic had a huge head start on ExAtmo’s effort to bring spaceflight to the commercial market, so the newer company had to come up with an attention-getting ploy to wrest some of the spotlight away from the pioneer and showcase its own advanced technology. The exhibition flight at the premiere experimental aircraft show in the world was the answer. As soon as Colchev had heard about the planned demonstration six months ago, he knew it would be his best chance to cripple the entire United States in one blow.
Getting information about the Skyward out of the notoriously secretive ExAtmo files had been difficult, but not impossible. One of the gems they’d acquired had been film of a test flight, showing the cockpit operation of both the carrier and spaceplane. With that, they knew their plan was possible.
The flight profile of the spaceplane was straightforward, helpfully sketched out in a CGI video on the ExAtmo website. The Lodestar could take off from any commercial runway. When it reached an altitude of 50,000 feet, the Skyward dropped from the belly. Once it was clear, the Skyward ignited its liquid rocket engine, propelling it to three thousand miles per hour, or mach four, twice the speed of the Concorde. Shooting straight up toward space, the engine disengaged after seventy seconds, giving the six passengers five minutes of weightlessness as the spaceplane was pulled back toward Earth, its fuel spent. Twenty-five minutes later, it glided in for an unpowered landing at the airport just like a Space Shuttle.
Of course, there was a pilot in case anything went awry during the flight, but on a typical trip he was superfluous during the launch. The Skyward was completely automated, the computer controlling the entire powered portion of the flight. As soon as the Skyward dropped from the carrier, the pilot didn’t need to do anything but monitor the gauges until it was time to land.
That automation was going to make it possible for Colchev to fly into space.
Building anticipation for the flight, ExAtmo had garnered extensive publicity by withholding the names of the pilots of the spaceplane and carrier aircraft as well as the two passengers. Fully suited and helmeted to maintain the mystery of their identities, they would be taken by shuttle bus to the flight line, where they would get on board the craft in full view of the crowds. The entire flight was to be recorded by telescopes on the ground. When the Skyward returned, the successful crew and passengers would be revealed in a massive press conference right on the tarmac.
Only it wouldn’t happen quite as planned.
Colchev and his men would take the place of the pilots and passengers. Zotkin, an experienced pilot rated on many different types of aircraft, would fly the carrier plane. Colchev and the other men, Nisselovich and Oborski, would climb aboard the Skyward. Once they were in the air, Nisselovich and Oborski would crawl through the mating hatch into the Lodestar, leaving Colchev alone to pilot the Skyward.
Colchev’s sole task during the Skyward’s launch would be to cut off the rocket early. After arming the Killswitch, he would depressurize the Skyward and eject the weapon, where it would continue on its ballistic arc. Then Colchev would fire the engine and use up the remaining fuel to get as much distance as he could between him and the Killswitch.
When the Killswitch went off, the electronics in the Skyward would be useless. It would be destined to crash, which was the reason Colchev needed the Icarus parachute. He’d bail out just as the Killswitch timer counted down to zero. Zotkin and the others would use traditional chutes from a much lower altitude. Ten minutes later, Colchev would land in an utterly changed world. He’d rendezvous with his comrades at a garage where they had stored an ancient diesel truck equipped with extra fuel. Together they’d make the difficult trek back to Russia through the North American wasteland, departing on a ship that they’d already contracted to meet them at the port of Seattle.
The Cessna’s wheels touching down brought Colchev out of his revelry. Guided by the flag-waving attendants, they taxied through the maze of aircraft and tents to their parking space.
Zotkin shut down the engines. He nodded at a hangar to their right along the edge of the airport.
“That’s the Weeks hangar. The flight crew is getting ready in there.”
The hangar door was closed for privacy. The shuttle bus that would take the crew to the plane was parked outside. No security was visible. The guards were all stationed around the spaceplane. The prep location had been withheld from the media, but Colchev had acquired the information from the ExAtmo files.
“Is everyone clear on the plan?” Colchev said.
Three nods.
Nisselovich and Oborski left to inspect the area around the spaceplane and verify that everything was as they anticipated.
Colchev opened the container carrying the Killswitch. He carefully removed the xenobium from its protective case and inserted it into the weapon. The tines latched onto the metal and drew it into the compartment, closing over it and shielding the radiation. Now all he had to do was enter the arming code and set the timer.
He and Zotkin unloaded the container from the plane and put it on a handcart they’d brought along. With all of the camping equipment and barbecues set up around them, no one glanced twice at them moving their luggage toward the unguarded hangar.
FIFTY-TWO
The banner on the control tower proudly declared that Oshkosh was the world’s busiest airport. The constant drone of propellers and engines reminded Tyler that the proclamation wasn’t hyperbole. Every minute there were aircraft taking off or landing, sometimes simultaneously on the two runways. More airplanes buzzed around in flight, including a squadron of P-51 Mustang fighter planes flying in formation.
There was also constant motion on the ground. As Tyler, Jess, Fay, Grant, and Morgan made their way toward the Skyward spaceplane, a Navy AWACS plane crossed in front of them and was ushered to a spot next to a white Air Force T-38 supersonic trainer and an Army Chinook helicopter, two of the many military aircraft on display. Lines of visitors formed at each of them, and the pilots were on hand to answer questions from the gawking fans. Some of them even allowed the curious to sit inside the cockpit.
On the other side of the tarmac were vintage aircraft of every stripe, from World War I biplanes to Vietnam- era choppers. Further down the runway Boeing and Airbus were giving tours of their latest airliners.
Enormous tents housing manufacturer showcases, vendor displays, and restaurants stretched five hundred yards in every direction. Outside most of the tents were innovative private plane models and experimental prototypes that the builders wanted to spotlight, hoping to make sales to the enthusiasts who came from all over the world.
The wide thoroughfares were crammed with pedestrians taking in the sights, tractors towing shuttle trams, and gas-powered carts ferrying workers and supplies in every direction. For the entire week, the airport was transformed into a small city, with a population approaching 100,000 visitors on sunny days.
“I’ve never seen so many planes,” Fay said. “This is enormous.”
“Are you doing all right, Nana?” Jess said. “We should have made you stay in Los Angeles.”
“I’m fine.”
Tyler thought she looked anything but. They were all exhausted from the constant travel and fitful sleep on
