disintegrated into a shouting match.
9
'Indy, you just cannot keep piling weight onto this machine!' Cromwell became ever more agitated at Indy's seeming indifference. 'I'm serious, Indy. We're already well above the permissible gross weight—'
Indy waved Cromwell to silence. 'As you would say, Will, bosh and bother.'
Gale grinned at his choice of words and Indy acknowledged her compliment with a slight bow. 'I may not be a pilot, but I know the mathematics of flight,'
he continued with Cromwell. 'Your figures are for a commercial model with specific restrictions, right? And they're for the engines without our superchargers or the fat blades, right?'
'Well, yes, but—'
'But me no buts, my friend. I've worked out the wing loading, power loading, the shift in center of gravity, all that stuff.'
'All that stuff, he calls it,' Cromwell complained to Foulois. He studied Indy carefully. 'I thought you said you're not a pilot.'
'I'm not. Yet. But numbers are numbers, Will. We've still got the power and lift to handle another two or three thousand pounds.'
'And she'll fly like a sodding brick!' Cromwell shouted. 'Tish and blather.'
'What? You sound like a charwoman down on the docks.'
'Get ready to fly, both of you,' Indy ordered. 'We're going down to that restricted area. I want to test out the additional equipment we've added to this thing.'
Tarkiz pushed closer, anticipation stamped on his face. 'We fire guns?'
'We do,' Indy told him. 'The works. And I want to test those wing shackles for the tanks, too. We could hang bombs instead of fuel tanks externally, couldn't we?'
'Bombs?' Cromwell groaned, then shook his head in defeat. 'Yes, yes, we could.'
'Isn't that what you did with those clunker boats you flew in the war?' Indy demanded.
'That was different,' Cromwell sniffed. 'Why?'
'Because it was a bloody war, that's why! And you took chances!'
'What do you think we're getting into?' Indy asked quietly. 'Tea and crumpets? We may need every piece of hardware this thing can carry. And, by the way, every chance we have, I want you to teach me and Gale how to handle this airplane. There'll be times when we can spell you and Rene on a long flight. All we need to do is hold her steady on course. Shouldn't be too difficult.' 'Nothing to it, right?' Cromwell said sarcastically. 'That's the spirit. Load up. Let's go. Henshaw has closed the firing range to everyone but us.'
They climbed into the airplane, now painted with new lettering and numbers.
Gone were the army stars and tail numbers. Blue and red stripes adorned the upper and lower fuselage, and in between were the large letters reading global transair.
'For the record, we're checking out routes for our airliners.'
'How many planes do we have?' Foulois laughed.
'One,' Indy replied. 'Let's go. I'm going to stand behind you two flyboys and start learning how to handle this thing.'
'You want to start from the ground up, right?'
'Right,' Indy said.
'Good,' Foulois smiled. 'So you start with a walkaround inspection. You will learn to look for popped rivets, any twist or malformation of metal—come along, Indy, you learn as we go through the checklist. And you check the fuel by dipstick, because such instruments as fuel gauges are not to be trusted. The same with the oil.' They started at the left engine, inspecting fasteners, the wheels and tires, looking for signs of leaking hydraulic fluid. 'Check the propeller blades for nicks or damage. Ah, look carefully at the propeller fastenings. And while we walk, you check the external control cables. Look for slack or cable wear. Check the oil coolers to be certain they are clear. And, over here, we drain fuel from each tank to get rid of any water that has collected from condensation.'
When they were through, Tarkiz emerged from the cabin with a large fire extinguisher. 'He'll stand to the side of each engine when we start,' Cromwell said.
'We may not always have time to do it this way, but whenever we can, we follow the book. If there's a fire, he can douse it at once. All right, inside we go. Wait. We won't go anywhere with those chocks by the wheels. Remove them. And don't walk within the radius of those propeller blades! If one of those things ever kicks in it can slice off your arm or cut you in half.' 'Yessir,' Indy mumbled.
They climbed aboard. Indy listened to Foulois reading off the checklist. They set instruments before starting, adjusted the altimeter to the field elevation, then nodded to one another. Brakes locked. Controls free. Propellers clear.
'Indy, go back and check doorlock security,' Foulois directed.
'Tarkiz closed it. I heard—'
'You want to do more than fly, my friend.' Foulois smiled. 'You want to operate this machine. Check the door.'
Indy disappeared, came back with a nod of his head. 'Done.'
'While we did the walkaround, did you check the security locks on the underwing lockers?'
'Why, I didn't—
'I know. I did,' Foulois scolded gently. 'You do it by the book, Indy, and you learn to memorize everything. Now, we'll taxi out. I'll work the radios, Will,' he told Cromwell, then turned again to Indy. 'Notice how he keeps
