checklist being run: engine and aircraft systems instruments for takeoff, navigation for cruise and landing, weapons status diagrams for bomb runs, fuel system for air refueling, et cetera. Pretty straightforward, easy to learn, easy to teach. Again, all off-the-shelf stuff, so it’s easy to get stuff repaired, upgraded, or reprogrammed. Parking brake lever is . . .”
“I know where the parking brake handle is, General,” Cuthbert said with a smile. “At least you haven’t automated everything on my jet.” He moved the control stick in a circle, deflected the spoilers and horizontal stabilizers to let the ground crewman know he was ready to taxi; Patrick got taxi clearance from the control tower. Guided by the ground crewman, Cuthbert turned the Excalibur around and headed down the taxiway toward the active runway.
After he had made the turn and gotten a thumbs-up from the ground crewman, telling him he was clear of all obstacles, Cuthbert said, “That linesman looks familiar, General. Isn’t that . . . is that your son,
“Sure is,” Patrick said. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“A year or so after Wendy was killed,” Cutlass said solemnly. After a moment of respectful silence for Patrick’s ex-wife, murdered by Libyan terrorists many years ago, he added, “Jesus, he’s a big kid.” He looked at Patrick. “I heard he got an appointment to the Zoo from President Phoenix himself.”
“He did.”
“So . . . pardon my curiosity, sir, but shouldn’t he be in Colorado Springs getting hell beat out of him?”
“He had an . . . unfortunate and ill-advised disagreement with an upperclassman,” Patrick said. “They asked him to depart during Second Beast and not return.”
“Sorry, sir. What was the disagreement about?”
“He won’t say,” Patrick said moodily. “I think he was provoked into an altercation, but he refuses to explain his side, even on a direct order from the Academy commandant. The second-classman said Brad refused instruction and correction, misused his training rifle, then attacked him without warning. Doesn’t sound like him at all, but he offered no explanation.” Patrick’s face and tone of voice were stony as he added, “So he’s out.”
“That’s too bad,” Cuthbert said. “What’s his plan now?”
“I thought I’d give him the rest of the summer to get his bearings and make a plan,” Patrick said. “He knows how to operate the power cart, fuel trucks, and tugs, and how to marshal and tow aircraft, so he’s helping out on the flight line for a little folding money. But the moment I see him break out the video games instead of working, he’s out on his keester.”
“Don’t be too tough on him, sir,” Cuthbert said. “I’ve got two daughters that both dropped out of college. I was bugged that they didn’t seem to do anything much with their lives afterward and I made the mistake of telling them so. The first got pregnant. The second . . . joined the Army.”
“Oh,
“Actually, it’s all good,” Cutlass said. “The first is married to a dentist and has given me two grandchildren, and the second is a first lieutenant flying Chinooks. A little friendly advice: nudge, but nudge carefully. Don’t be a general officer to your kids.”
“Advice well taken, Cutlass,” Patrick said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, sir,” Cuthbert said. He looked around the cockpit and out the forward windscreen at the air refueling receptacle aiming markings on the nose. He punched the “Takeoff/Land” checklist on his MFD, selected several steps, then looked out his left side window to make sure the wing sweep, flaps, slats, and spoilers were set properly. “The bird looks great, sir,” he remarked. “What did you do to the skin? It looks brand new.”
“Nothing except inspection, minor repairs, anticorrosion treatment, and a little paint,” Patrick said. “No stealth antiradar coatings, no structural improvements except to fix minor structural flaws and to add a few features. We didn’t consider stealth hardly at all.”
“Why?”
“Because we assumed the battlefield would already be consumed with electronic jamming and intrusion,” Patrick said. “The Bones’ radar cross section—the lowest of the entire world’s heavy aircraft until the B-2 Spirit came along—could mostly be neutralized by electronic jamming. Our objective was to field an AirSea Battle attack and antimissile airframe in minimum time and cost. We analyzed the risk and advantage of the B-1B with advanced jammers and low-level flight profiles, and designed an attack profile to match. The B-1’s radar cross section is actually about the same as a Super Hornet.”
“Pretty good,” Cuthbert said distractedly. “Where did you get all the plans and manpower to do these conversions?”
“When the Air Force closed down the B-1 refurbishment project at Plant 42 in Palmdale, we bought all the tooling, design and manufacturing software, tech orders, and plans from the Air Force—much of which was designed and written by Sky Masters—and brought a bunch of the engineers and technicians up here,” Patrick said. “We’ve got the best in the business, all seasoned pros, and they set out to prove we could do it faster and better up here in Battle Mountain.”
“A private company doing it faster and better than the government? Who knew?” Cuthbert deadpanned. “So you’re not going to put all that fancy drone recovery and rearming stuff and the mission-adaptive wings on your birds?”
“We certainly can—Sky Masters developed both systems years ago, and we put all that technology on a B-1 just a couple years ago,” Patrick said. “We did retain the weapon loadout capabilities, software, and data bus of the Vampire bombers, so we can carry every air-launched weapon in the arsenal, including air-to-air missiles.”
“Air to air! No kidding?”
“We can put up to eight AMRAAMs on a rotary launcher, and we can carry a max of three rotary launchers,” Patrick said. “Although AirSea Battle envisions land-based bombers working with carrier-based fighters, we wanted to keep the capability of long-range unescorted land attack. Just give us whatever weapon you want to employ, and we can carry it into battle for you and let you launch them.”
“Pretty cool, sir.”
“The idea behind this project was to quickly field a force of long-range bombers to help protect the fleet over the horizon and to validate the AirSea Battle concept in minimum time and money,” Patrick said. “It’s just an interim solution, but time and money-wise, we think it’s the best option until they find more money for a new long- range bomber.”
“And I’m sure Sky Masters has a design in mind for that, too,” Cuthbert said.
“Of course.”
“Thought so,” Cutlass said. “So let’s talk turkey a bit before we take off, General. What’s it going to cost the Air Force to build your little fleet here?”
“Nothing,” Patrick said matter-of-factly.
“
“Sky Masters is making an investment in this project, not just trying to get a government contract,” Patrick explained. “We want the Air Force to give us the engines, avionics, radars, weapons, fuel, and access to the other aircraft at AMARG for spare parts—all stuff the Air Force already has in abundance and taxpayers have already paid for. The company pays all the personnel costs—engineering, maintenance, aircrew, support staff, and instructors. If the Air Force cancels the program, you get your hardware back, and Sky Masters writes off the personnel costs.”
“Not that an old warhorse like me knows anything about business, sir,” Cuthbert said, “but I have to wonder: How do you make any money at this? Sky Masters
“The company’s shareholders want to make money, Cutlass—
“And your board of directors agreed to not getting paid until and unless there’s a contract job?”
