It was the largest group of people McLanahan had been with since arriving at Spokane Airport-how many days ago?It had only been three days, and only one since first seeing the Megafortress, but it seemed like he had been cooped up in that desert for an eternity. Most of the time since seeing the bomber had been spent in intense study of the handtyped notes and tech orders on the avionics and performance capabilities of the bomber and the Striker glide-bomb. It was incredibly simple to operate-highly sophisticated, but simple.
They were in another windowless, stifling, nearly empty office.
McLanahan and Hal Briggs had joined a room crowded with eight people already there waiting for General Elliott. The most surprising additions were four women. Two were obviously security guards, but the third was a middle-aged woman in jeans and a safari jacket who stood beside an older gentleman, and the fourth was a much younger woman, perhaps in her late twenties, who stared at the newcomers in surprise.
The others took quick glances at the two newcomers and promptly ignored them.
A few moments later, General Elliott entered the room, now wearing civilian slacks and a short-sleeve shirt but still sporting the huge.45-caliber automatic under his left armpit.
'I think it's about time we were introduced to one another,' General Elliott said immediately, 'although you've all been working with each other for the past few weeks and may in fact have run into each other quite often while working on the Old Dog. Colonel Anderson.
A tall, dark-haired man in a green SAC flightsuit turned and faced the group. He had taken the front and center chair and had leaped to attention when Elliott entered the room.
'Colonel James Anderson,' he said in a deep, resonant voice. 'Deputy commander of the 4135th Test and Evaluation Center, Strategic Development and Testing, Edwards Air Force Base.
'Colonel Anderson brings a wealth of experience from several different weapon systems to Dreamland,' Elliott said.
'He has been the singlernost important source of ideas and our premier trouble-shooter. The Old Dog wouldn't be where it is right now without him.
'Thank you, sir,' Anderson said. He returned to his seat and with narrow, piercing eyes scanned the others around him.
He looked right past McLanahan, disregarding him.
McLanahan pegged him immediately: the huge silver ring, dwarfing his wedding band; the jump wings beneath his command pilot wings; his thin waist and chin-zoomie. Air Force Academy grad. A Colorado Cuckoo.
Not exactly a navigator lover, either.
The man next to Anderson stood. He was a bit shorter, less chiseled and much younger version of Anderson, but he had nodded politely to Briggs and McLanahan earlier and he seemed friendly. 'Lieutenant Colonel John Ormack, from the engineering and development section at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.'
'The man responsible for a lot of the Old Dog's new tricks in the cockpit,' Elliott added. 'He's made his job as co-pilot a million times easier-obviously selfishly motivated. He's released the co-pilot to help out with bomber defense and crew coordination. He's also racked up a few thousand hours in several aircraft as well. The deputy project officer. 'Anderson gave Mac a prou no an a quick um s-up as he sat down.
The younger civilian woman then stood up. Everyone else in the room looked around and past hen-everyone but McLanaban and Harold Briggs.
She was of average height, with dark hair tied in a scholarly bun atop her head. Her eyes and face were dominated by huge, thick glasses, but, McLanahan thought, she was pretty in a-well, teacherly sort of way. She could not have been much older than McLanahan himself. She looked familiar.
'Doctor Wendy Tork,' she said briefly, brandishing the word doctor like a sword in front of the SAC officers.
'Strategic electronic defense engineer, Palmdale, California.
McLanahan nearly bolted out of his seat. No, it couldn't be, he thought. He turned and met the friendly smile of the woman he had met in the hospitality bar back during the Bomb Comp Symposium. He could barely keep his jaw from swinging open.
'One of the country's foremost experts on electronic countermeasures, counter-countermeasures, Stealth technology, and radar,' Elliott said.
'The electronic warfare operator.'
'Holy shit,' McLanahan said under his breath. He continued to stare at her, studying her, trying to imagine her in a flightsuit. Then out of a flightsuit. Both seemed weirdly difficult in their present circumstances…
He looked around and noticed Anderson's disgusted, exasperated expression as the colonel studied Tork. Well, McLanahan thought, he likes women even less than navigators, I guess. Heads swiveled around in his direction, so McLanahan decided he was next and sheepishly stood.
'Captain Patrick McLanahan, B-52 radar navigator from Ford Air Force Base,' McLanahan asked. 'This is Lieutenant Harold Briggs.' 'Mornin',' Briggs said with a big smile. The icy glare he got from Anderson made him wish he hadn't said that, and he zipped his smile away.
Everyone in the small, stuffy room gave them a cursory nod but little else.
'Thanks for the intro, former buddy,' Briggs whispered to McLanahan.
'If I gotta sweat in front of Anderson, so do you,' McLanahan whispered back.
'The best in the business,' Elliott said proudly 'Without a doubt the most gifted, knowledgeable, and professional bombardier in the United States military. Probably in anyone's military. The Old Dog's radar navigator.'
'Where's Mentzer, General?' Anderson said sharply.
'I had a problem with Joe's background investigation, James,' Elliott replied. Anderson gave Elliott an exasperated, impatient look.
'General, forget that,' he said, shaking his head. 'I'll vouch for the man, dammit. He modified and tested both the Striker TV-guided bomb and the new sub-atomic munitions.
He's the perfect man for the job. 'Anderson glared at Tork when he said man.
'Sorry, James,' Elliott asked. 'Captain McLanahan, however, has recently convinced me of the need for an additional crewmember downstairs. If Mentzer's clearance comes through-well, we'll discuss it.'
'Another crewmember?' Anderson asked. 'A navigator?
The Old Dog doesn't need another navigator.'
'Patrick has demonstrated otherwise, Colonel.'
'What we need, General,' Anderson said, 'is the man who built the Striker and the decoy drones, the man who helped-' Colonel Anderson.' Elliott had lost all trace of goodnaturedness in his voice, although his expression was still light and easy. 'Joseph Mentzer is not available at this time. When he is, I'll inform you. Until then, Captain McLanahan is the radar navigator. All right, Colonel?'
The emphasis on Anderson's rank suppressed the last spark of resistance, and Anderson fell silent.
'Last but certainly not least,' Elliott said, nodding to the last man and the woman beside him.
'Thank you, General,' the man asked. 'I am Doctor Lewis Campos, retired Air Force. This is my assistant, Doctor Angelina Pereira. We are weapons design consultants representing several industries-actually, a mix of several militaryindustrial complexes.'
'And a duo with loads of imagination,' Elliott added.
'Designers of the defensive armament aboard the Old Dogthe guns, missiles, rockets. Lew Campos will be the gunner in all of the tests we conduct.
'There you have it, ladies and gentlemen,' Elliott said.
'From now on, you'll be working very closely with one another to gather the information we need. All of you, with the possible exception of Patrick, are intimately familiar with your own devices and equipment-and Captain McLanahan has demonstrated a knowledge of his own systems that would rival anyone here. But it'll be most important that you all learn to work with each other to insure the success of these tests.
Elliott was silent for a moment. Then: 'Some of you are not military people. You've worked in military centers, designing military weaponry, working closely with other military members, but you never planned on actually flying or participating in operational tests yourselves. We simply don't have the time to train flight test engineers or military personnel to your level of expertise.
'I am heartened by the fact that all of you are volunteers, but that doesn't bind you to a seat aboard the
