Revolution

“Wow,” he said. “I’m flying.”

“Not yet, Major,” said A

Dreamland

1345

THE ENGINEERS WHO TRANSFORMED THE B-1B INTO

Dreamland B-1B/L Testbed 2 had left the throttle controls to the left of each pilot’s position, but otherwise there was little similarity between the aircraft’s cockpit and that of its

“stock” brethren. A sleek glass panel replaced the 1970s-era gauges, dials, and switches that had once faced the pilots.

The panel layout was infinitely configurable and could be 48

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changed by voice command to different presets adapted to a specific mission or pilot. The electronics behind the panel were even more radically different. Dreamland B-1B/L Testbed 2 could simultaneously track 64,237 targets and potential threats anywhere in the world. The number was related to the processing capacity of the chips used in the radar and computers but was still somewhat arbitrary. Ray Rubeo’s answer, when Dog asked him why that number was chosen, had been,

“They had to stop somewhere.”

Gathering the data through the Dreamland communication network—and eventually through standard military systems—the plane’s advanced flight computer could not only keep tabs on any potential enemy in the world, but provide the pilot with a comprehensive plan to evade detection or destroy the enemy before it knew the plane was targeting it.

Or the computer could do it all itself, without human help—or interference. Which was what today’s test was all about.

“Ready any time you are, Colonel,” said the copilot, Marty

“Sleek Top” Siechert. A civilian contractor, a former Marine Corps aviator who’d returned to flying fast jets after working as a mid-level manager at McDo

Not that Dog could see it. Both men were dressed in full flight gear, with g suits and brain buckets, even though the cabin was fully pressurized.

“Let’s get this pony into the air,” said Dog, putting his hand on the throttle.

Dreamland B-1B/L Testbed 2—more commonly and affec-tionately known as Boomer—rocked as her engines revved to life. The four General Electric F101-GE-102 engines she was born with had been replaced by new GE models that were about seventy percent more powerful and conserved much more fuel. Unlike the Megafortress, the B-1B was a supersonic aircraft to begin with, and thanks to its uprated engines, had REVOLUTION

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pushed out over Mach 2.4 in level flight—probably a record for a B-1B, though no one actually kept track. More impressive—at least if you were paying the gas bill— Boomer could fly to New York and back at just over the speed of sound with a full payload without needing to be refueled.

“I have 520 degrees centigrade on engines three and four,”

said Sleek Top.

“Roger that,” replied Dog. The temperature readings were an indication of how well the engines were working. “Five twenty. I have 520 one and two.”

They ran through the rest of the plane’s vitals, making sure the plane was ready to takeoff. With all systems in the green, Dog got a clearance from the tower and moved down the ramp to the runway.

“Burners,” he told Sleek Top as he put the hammer down.

The afterburners flashed to life. The plane took a small step forward, then a second; the third was a massive leap. The speed bar at the right of Dog’s screen vaulted to 100 knots; a half breath later it hit 150.

“We’re go,” said Dog as the airplane passed 160 knots, committing them to takeoff.

The plane’s nose came up. Boomer had used less than 3,000 feet of runway to become airborne.

Like the stock models, the B-1B/L’s takeoff attitude was limited to prevent her long tail from scraping, and the eight-degree angle made for a gentle start to the flight. Gentle but not slow—she left the ground at roughly 175 knots, and within a heartbeat or two was pumping over 300.

Dog checked the wing’s extension, noting that the computer had set them at 25 degrees, the standard angle used for routine climb-outs. Like all B-1s, Boomer’s wings were ad-justable, swinging out to increase lift or maneuverability and tucking back near the body for speed and cruising efficiency.

But unlike the original model, where the pilots pulled long levers to manually set the angle, Boomer’s wings were set automatically by the flight computer even when under manual 50

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

control. The pilot could override using voice commands, but the computer had first crack at the settings.

The wings’ geometry capitalized on improvements made possible by the use of the carbon composite material instead of metal. The goal of these improvements had been to reduce weight and improve performance, but as a side benefit the new wings also made the plane less visible on radar.

They were also, of course, considerably more expensive to manufacture than the originals, a problem the engineers were finding difficult to solve.

It was also a problem that Dog no longer had to worry about or even consider. All he had to do was finish his climb-out to 35,000 feet and get into a nice, easy orbit around Range 14a.

“Way marker,” said his copilot. “We’re looking good, Colonel. Ready for diagnostics.”

“Let ’em rip,” said Dog.

The B-1Bs flown by the Strategic Air Command were crewed by four men: pilot, copilot, and two weapons systems operators. Boomer had places for only the pilot and copilot, with the weapons handled by the copilot, with help from the threat and targeting computer. The arrangement was under review. Experience with the Megafortress had shown that under combat conditions, dedicated weapons handlers could be beneficial. There was plenty of room for them on the flight deck, but the additional cost in terms of money and man-power might not be justifiable.

Indeed, Dog wasn’t entirely sure the presence of the pilot and copilot could be justified. The Unma

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The next generation of Flighthawks was very much on Dog’s mind as the diagnostics were completed, because the afternoon’s test session was a mock dogfight between a pair of Flighthawks and the B-1. The aim of the test was to put Boomer’s airborne laser through its paces, but of course from the pilots’ point of view, the real goal was to wax the other guy’s fa

Dog wondered if the computers thought like that.

“Boomer, this is Flighthawk control. Hawk One and Two are zero-five minutes from the range. What’s your status?”

“Rarin’ for a fight, Starship,” responded Dog. “Are you ready, Lieutenant?”

“Ready to kick your butt,” said Starship.

Dog laughed. Starship—Lieutenant Kirk “Starship”

Andrews—seemed to have broken out of his shell a bit thanks to his temporary assignment with the Navy. In fact, he’d done so well there that the commander he’d been assigned to, Captain Harold “Storm” Gale, had tried to keep him. Considering Storm’s general attitude that Air Force perso

“I didn’t mean any disrespect, sir,” added Starship hastily.

“No offense taken,” said Dog. “Let’s see how you do, Lieutenant.”

Dog and Sleek Top turned over control to the computer and settled back to watch how Boomer did. The tests began quietly, with the two Flighthawks making a head-on approach at Boomer’s altitude. The B-1’s radar tracked them easily, identified them as threats, presented itself with several options for striking them, then worked out the solution most likely to succeed.