'When it gets dark, and when we find a base that can take us.
Obviously, Dreamland is out. Tonopah or Indian Springs might be alternates. Angelina, Wendy, get in contact with mission control and-' 'Problem, General,' Angelina interrupted. 'No secrets.'
'No communications documents?No encoding tables?
I.F.F?'
'I'm afraid not.'
'What do we have on board?'
'The whole world will know about us in no time, General,' Ormack said.
'The attack on Dreamland, this plane, the whole thing. They can't keep all this secret. When this plane lands, the whole world will be on hand to see it.
Elliott pushed on the yoke to level off at seventeen thousand feet, staring straight ahead over the long, sleek nose of the Megafortress.
'I suppose you're right,' he asked. 'Level-off checks, John. Angelina, get a U.H.F phone patch through Nellis to Cobalt Control. That's my section in Washington. Advise them that we're okay and request a secure radio setup and frequency as soon as possible.
'Roger.
Just then a loud voice over all the U.H.F radios on board interrupted them. 'This is Los Angeles Center on guard.
Aircraft heading two-eight-five, altitude seventeen thousand feet, squawk five-two-one-nine and ident if you can hear me.
'That's us,' Ormack said. Elliott reached down to his side panel, set the I.F.F frequency, turned the transmitter to ON, and hit the IDENT button.
'Aircraft is radar contact,' the air traffic controller replied.
'Change to frequency two-nine-seven point eight.'
Elliott changed the frequency. 'Los Angeles Center, this is Genesis on two-nine-seven point eight.
'Genesis, ident and spell full call sign,' Los Angeles came back.
Elliott spelled the name.
'Genesis?' Ormack asked. 'What's that?'
'It's an old classified collective call sign for military experimental aircraft from Edwards,' Elliott told him. 'We used it when we wanted to go to the high-altitude structure but didn't want anyone, even the military airspace controllers, to know who we were. Drearniand has launched a lot of aircraft without flight plans all over this area. I hope the guy asks someone else about it instead of me.'
'Genesis ' the confusion in the controller's voice was apparent.'.
Genesis, we show no flight plan for you. Say your departure point.
'Unable, Los Angeles.'
There was a longer pause. Then: 'Genesis, your primary target is very weak. Say type of aircraft, intentions and destination.
'This guy is trying to gut it out even if he doesn't know what he's doing,' Elliott said to Ormack. He switched to the radio.
'Los Angeles, Genesis is requesting direct Friant, direct Talon intersection and holding at Talon within fifty nautical flight level three-niner zero.'
'Unable your request through valley traffic witho plan, Genesis 'Request you contact our command post on AUTOVON or Department of Defense DTS nine-ei, one-four-two-four, for our flight plan if it isn't in you in the next two minutes. Meanwhile, request direc direct Talon at the three-niner zero.'
'Genesis the controller, not accustomed telling him what to do, was clearly agitated. 'Unable standard holding north of the Coaldale two-five-three radial between twenty and thirty DME, right hand one-seven thousand five hundred until we straighten & 'Genesis is proceeding VFR at this time, Los A Elliott said.
'Maintaining sixteen thousand five hundred proceeding direct Tacon.
We'll file a VFR flight plan with Coaldale Flight Service.
'Genesis, you have your instructions,' the controller shot back.
'Enter holding as directed.'
'Passing over the Coaldale VORTAC, General,' said.
'Nuts to that,' Elliott said, and switched the mode 7600, the radio-out I.F.F advisory. 'Climbing to two zero, crew,' he said over interphone.
'John, dial up 'He's gonna be pissed,' Ormack said as he changed the TACAN frequency to steer themselves to the next n point.
'If he never gets our flight plan, he'll never know are unless he scrambles interceptors against us,' Ell' 'If he get our flight plan, it won't matter. If he sc fighters… well, we don't have a tail number.
even look much like a real B-52.'
'Genesis, this is Los Angeles Center-the voice was ragged-you are violated at this time. Turn to heading-' Elliott switched off the radio.
'I'll keep the emergency radio-out squawks going until we're out over water, asked. 'He may be pissed but he'll clear the airspace 'Not the best way to begin,' Luger said to McLa the downstairs compartment.
McLanahan gave a shrug. He opened his chec, began to activate the radar, satellite navigation system, and the ring-laser gyro. A few minutes later the radar was warmed up and ready for use.
Luger meanwhile was plotting a fix on a high-altitude airways chart he found in a flight publications bag behind his seat.
'Any jet charts in there?GNC charts?Anything?' McLanahan asked.
'No, standard FLIP bag,' Luger told him.
'Great. Just great. Well, we do have a flight plan. There should be Red Flag bomb range training data in here.
McLanahan checked that the correct mission cartridge was inserted into the reader, then flipped the READ lever. Twenty seconds later the flight plan, target coordinates, fixpoints, weapon coefficients, and terrain elevations for the entire southwest United States were resident in the master computer.
He then checked the gyro, nav computer, and satellite global positioning systems.
'The ring-laser gyro and satellite systems are ready to go,' McLanahan said. He turned the satellite navigator to SYNCHRONIZE.'We need a present position fix to align the gyro and start the nav computer.
After that it'll take a minute to start navigating on its own.
As Luger took radar fixes and began a rough D.R log on the margins of the enroute charts, McLanahan waited for the satellite to lock on.
After two minutes the SYNC ERROR advisory light was still lit.
'Okay,' Luger said, putting his plotter down. 'We're on a pretty good heading to Talon intersection. How's it going over there?'
'Bad to worse,' McLanahan asked. 'I just realized why. The satellite GPS needs a synchronizer code.'
'And naturally we don't have one.'
'Naturally,' McLanahan said. He punched the Scorpion missile radar on to TRANSMIT and switched it to its original navigation radar mode. He looked into the scope, watching the Pacific coastline come into view in one hundred mile range, A then in frustration switched it back to STANDBY 'It's hard to take a radar fix without a radar chart or description of the fixpoints,' he asked. 'The ring-laser gyro will probably align with an overfly fix or a D.R position, but I don't know how accurate the heading will be.
'Bottom line-Luger to the rescue!' Dave asked. 'You were a psychic, partner. You needed a nav right from the beginning.
McLanahan flipped his interphone switch. 'Want an update on the situation down here, General?'
'I'm afraid to guess. Well, if we don't have a satellite communications channel or I.F.F mission squawk, we certainly don't have a GPS code. No GPS, no reliable gyro. What else?'
'How about no charts and no target and fixpoint descriptions?'
The interphone clicked dead for a moment. Then: 'Well, do the best you can.
'You bet,' McLanahan asked. 'We're deaf, dumb, blind, and lost, but we'll do the best we can.'
