rest of the crew.
'How are you warriors doing?'
Angelina nodded but looked almost as bad as Luger Because of the damage to the downstairs crew compartment McLanahan had been forced to transfer most of the available heat downstairs to keep Luger from going back into shock. Even with Wendy's borrowed jacket and thermal top, there was more protection then the rest of the crew had, Angelina was losing to the cold.
Her lips were purple, her eyelids drooped as if she were struggling to stay awake.
Her hands, in stiff, metallic firefighting gloves, were shoved deep inside her jacket for warmth.
Bomber defense was almost out of the question, McLanahan thought. It would be difficult if not impossible for Angelina to try to operate her equipment under these conditions. Landing was absolutely the only option.
'Hang in, Angie,' he said.
'I'll be all right…'
McLanahan turned to Wendy. 'How you doing?'
'Holding up. I could use a drink.
'Champagne when we get home… okay, you were taught this months ago, but let's go over it again. If we get attacked while trying to land, or if the pilots can't land this thing, we've got no choice but to eject. Listen carefully, watch the warning light and don't panic-but don't hesitate either.
There's a simple three-step system for using upward seatsjust remember, ready, aim, fire.
'The ready is to pull the safety pin out of the handle on your armrests, trip the handle release lever and rotate the handle upward.
Grab the front of the handle, not the middle or inside.
There's no hurry, do it smooth and easy. This equipment is old and it needs some care. The aim is like align. You shove your fannies deep into the back of your seat, press your back into the seat and push your head back into the headrest. After that lower your chin to your chest.
Think about a nice straight spine the whole time. Put your feet flat on the deck, knees together.
Put your elbows inside the armrests and brace your arms against the back. The fire is easy-grab both triggers inside the ejection handle and squeeze. Next thing you know, you'll be on the ground.'
'What happens if it doesn't fire?' Angelina asked between shivers.
'Can you go over the emergency ejection sequence?'
'Don't worry about it. If necessary I'll pop your manual catapult initiator pull-out pins for you.'
'You?' Wendy said, looking up at McLanahan. 'How?'
'The chances of navigators surviving a downward ejection at less than two thousand feet is fifty percent. If we go below one thousand feet.
.. never mind what the book says…
our chances are about zero.'
'But-' 'Dave doesn't have an ejection seat,' McLanahan them. 'After the decision was made to get a second naviga requested that another ejection seat be installed. But there so much pressure to complete the testing that it somehow overlooked. 'He tried a smile and flunked.
'I'll make sure crosshairs are on the runway so that the bombing COMPuter will help the pilots land the Dog, get Dave strapped in, then come back upstairs and strap in right here. I'll see to it that you get out if it's necessary to eject-' 'Patrick, you can't-' 'Can and will. End of discussion-' 'Pat, we're fifty miles from Anadyr,' Luger reported.
waited a few moments. 'Pat?'
Wendy was shaking her head. He figured he should say something else but the words wouldn't come. He groped for the interphone wafer switch.
'What?'
'Fifty miles,' Luger asked. 'You okay?'
'Great.
'Strap in,' Elliott called back. 'Everyone back on watch. 'McLanahan made his way slowly down the ladder, leaning over Luger's shoulder.
Luger was now in the left-hand navigator's ejection seat, studying the ten-inch radar set. 'See it yet, buddy?' McLanahan asked. Luger switched the radar scope to fifty-mile terrain-mapping and was adjusting the video and receiver gain controls near his left knee, tuning the terrain returns on the scope in a search for the runway.
'Nope,' he said, moving his uncovered left eye close to the scope.
'Nothing under the crosshairs. I get a blank screen when I tune out terrain.'
'Assume the computers are bad. You should be able to break out a runway within thirty miles. Just keep tuning. 'He stooped down, checked Luger's straps and harnesses.
snug?'
'I still don't want to do this,' Luger said.
'It's my fault you're even on this plane,' McLanahan quickly 'It's my fault you got hurt. At least I want you to a chance to get out of it if something goes wrong.'
'Thanks, buddy, but I'd like to think my so-called profesionalism helped get me a ticket on this ride. I wouldn't missed it for anything.
Well, almost anything.'
'Check. I'll buy you a beer back at my place,' McLanateha'n asked. 'Or a vodka. I guess that would be more appropria McLanahan thumped his long-time partner on the back, grabbed Luger's tactical chart and made his way upstairs, where he strapped himself into a spare parachute and fastened his seatbelt.
'Forty miles,' Luger announced. 'Clear of terrain for fifty miles.
'We'll have enough gas for one low approach,' Ormack asked. 'We've got fuel low-pressure lights on all four mains.
One pass clean, then a left turn into a visual overhead for landing.
'Crew, listen up,' Elliott asked. 'If we pick up ground fire we'll break out of the pattern and climb out as fast as we can.
We'll level off at fifteen thousand and go straight ahead until we flame out. Jump ut on my command, but if you see the red light don't wait for my command. After you land use your survival radios on the discrete channel and we'll try to locate n up.
everyone and fort 'Thirty miles,' Luger reported. 'High terrain at two o'clock. Shouldn't be a factor. Looks reasonably clear for a left-hand traffic pattern.'
'We're setting up on a sort of extended base leg, Luger,' Ormack said.
'That airfield will be moving off to your left.'
' Rog.''Descent and penetration checklist, crew,' Ormack called out.
'We've got twenty thousand pounds of fuel, nav.
Approach speed and emergency landing data?'
Luger called up the landing data on a computer terminal in the downstairs compartment. 'Two engines out on one sideapproach speed is less than minimum maneuvering speed, so minimum maneuvering speed takes precedence,' Luger read. 'Minimum maneuvering speed is one-twenty-eight with full flaps-, plus twenty-five with less than full rudder authority. One hundred and sixty-eight knots. Go-around E.P.R setting, three point zero, rnilita6 power on symmetric engines only.
Touchdown speed one-forty-eight. Brake energy limited one-fifty to the bottom of the danger zone, one-thirty to the bottom of the caution zone.
Max drag chute speed one-thirty-five.
'There may not be a go-around,' Ormack said, checking the fuel gauges.
He continued the lengthy series of checklists, letting the Old Dog's on-board computer display each checklist on Ormack's display in the cockpit. It seemed the Old Dog one huge emergency procedure. Ormack reviewed check for fuel leaks on landing, double engine-out, engine fire, parachute failure.hydraulic failure, overrunning the rum landing on ice and snow, strange field procedures, ejection emergency aircraft evacuation. When he finished, Li announced that they were less than twenty miles from Anadyr Far East Fighter-Interceptor Airbase.
Elliott and Ormack began a gradual descent to fifteen hundred feet above the field's elevation.
'Clear of terrain for thirty miles,' Luger said.
