Brown, Dale - Independent 02 (20 page)

 
          
“The
system automatically shifts from helicopter-type control to airplane-type based
on airspeed and nacelle angle—when the computer decides that you’re in airplane
mode, it’ll activate the ailerons and elevators instead of rotor pitch. The
transition will be controlled by computer. You’ll hardly notice the
change—it’ll seem very natural, logical. You’ll have X and Y velocity readouts
on the instrument panel to help you maneuver; those readouts are on this
display.

 
          
“You
get forward speed by changing the nacelle angle, not by using the control
stick—remember, don’t push the stick down to pick up forward speed. When
switching to forward flight, power will automatically increase slightly when
moving the nacelles because you’ll be changing the power vector from pure lift
to lift-and-thrust combined. Your elevator and rudder-trim controls are here,
under the nacelle-angle control, and you’ll find you’ll be adjusting trim a
lot. The on-board computers will automatically compensate for torque. Once lift
from the wings builds up you’ll find your forward speed increasing rapidly, and
the power-control computers will decrease power as the wings provide more and
more lift.”

 
          
Geffar
had to struggle some to keep up with Elliott’s rapid-fire tutorial as he now
pointed to another of the digital color-displays on the forward instrument
panel. “While switching to forward flight the stick and rudder pedals
automatically change from cyclics to fixed- wing flight controls, where the
ailerons and rudders combine with computer-controlled rotor-pitch commands to help
control the aircraft. The computer display here will prompt you on
angle-of-attack and nacelle-angle until the nacelle is horizontal—you’ll be a
normal airplane after that.”

 
          
Elliott
looked at Geffar. “Pretty simple, isn’t it?” he said, not knowing how close he
was to verbal if not physical barrage. “Transitioning from forward to vertical
flight is just as easy—the computer will prompt you along, although after an
hour or two you’ll recognize when to start moving the nacelle and adjusting the
power so you won’t need the computer’s help any more.” He pointed out other
controls and switches on the control stick. “Here are—”

 
          
“That’s
enough,” Geffar said. “I’ll watch for the time being.”

 
          
“You’ll
have time to watch later,” Hardcastle said. “Now, you’re making the takeoff. No
argument.” Elliott disappeared, reappeared in a jump seat between Hardcastle
and Geffar. McLanahan appeared off the nose to act as fire guard and crew
chief, and Hardcastle gave him the signal that he was ready to start. “Starting
engines,” he announced to the crew. “Cranking one.”

 
          
The
engine-start sequence was remarkably quiet and easy—Hardcastle selected the
sequence from a computerized menu on one of the digital readouts, and the
computer did the rest. In spite of the huge size of the engine nacelles, their
position at the very outer tips of the wings cut noise in the cockpit. Elliott
flipped two switches on the overhead engine-control console to engage the
rotors, and soon the huge rotor on the port nacelle was turning. Hardcastle showed
Geffar the engine-start sequence, and soon the starboard engine was running.

 
          
“One
important ground check that needs doing,” Hardcastle said over interphone.
“Both rotors can be run off one engine.” He decoupled the port rotor from the
port engine, checked to be sure the linkage connecting the starboard engine to
the port rotor engaged, then did the same with the starboard engine.
“Cross-coupling check completed.” Hardcastle set up the nav and communications
radios, then dialed a specific radial and distance into the autopilot flight-
director, setting in a point several miles south of the
Florida Keys
.

 
          
“We
going some place in particular?” Geffar asked.

 
          
“Patience,”
Hardcastle told her. “It’s your aircraft. I’ll call for clearance, you make the
takeoff.” Hardcastle then called and received permission for takeoff.

 
          
“I’ve
got the aircraft,” Geffar acknowledged, holding tight to the stick-and-throttle
quadrant on the center console. “But what the hell am I doing?”

 
          
“Here’s
your nacelle angle, here’s your power, here’s your horizontal and vertical
vector-velocity displays,” Hardcastle said, pointing to the color monitors.
“Apply power until you get some altitude, then feed in some nacelle angle to
get forward velocity. Be careful—it won’t take much to get this baby moving.”

 
          
Carefully
Geffar advanced the throttle. It seemed she had scarcely touched it, but
instantly the Sea Lion was twenty feet off the ground. She tested the rudder
pedals, and the aircraft nimbly swiveled left and right in response; its
agility, she thought, was incredible considering the V-22C’s size, and the
noise level in the cockpit was so low that she had a hard time believing they
were actually airborne.

 
          
“You
got it,” Hardcastle said. “Give us a bit more altitude for a safety margin,
then feed in a little nacelle angle. You’ll feel the bird drop when you move
the nacelles, but the computer will increase engine power to compensate so
don’t try to add power yourself just to hold altitude. Be gentle. Easy power
inputs. It won’t take much.”

 
          
Geffar
touched the nacelle angle-control switch, and the tilt-rotor aircraft shot
forward, dipping slightly and losing a few feet of altitude. She watched,
fascinated, as the power raced in, arresting the slight drop—it was as if the
Sea Lion had been reading her mind. The gray-and-black runway at Homestead Air
Force Base disappeared as they raced eastward over the forests and coastal
swamps.

 
          
“Good,”
Hardcastle said. “Combine nacelle angle and power for altitude and airspeed and
let the computers take care of flight transitions. Come right a bit so we can
stay away from the nuclear power plant.” Geffar eased the control stick to the
right and the Sea Lion gracefully banked right, away from the Turkey Point
Nuclear Power Station just east of the Air Force base.

 
          
“Okay,
climb to three thousand feet,” Hardcastle said. They were there moments later,
and Geffar expertly lowered the Sea Lion’s nose and readjusted power to
maintain altitude. “Now follow the HSI and we’ll get the demonstration
started.” Geffar checked the Horizontal Situation Indicator, which revealed her
desired course and direction, and banked slightly left to center the
course-needle on the instrument. “Great. Now we’ll pick up a little speed. Open
the throttle to eighty percent and adjust the nacelle angle to maintain at
least six alpha. You’ll have to apply a little pressure to maintain altitude.
Trim it out carefully but be ready to retrim once the wings start generating
lift.”

 
          
Geffar
followed Hardcastle’s directions, responding to his unhurried, even voice. As
she applied power the upward lift was a force, and it took a large push on the
stick to hold altitude. Then, as she lowered the nacelle, she found she had to
retrim in the opposite direction to compensate for the loss of lift; then, a
few moments later as the forward airspeed started to build, she had to trim
away the stick pressure as the wings started to produce lift and the Sea Lion
wanted to climb once again.

 
          
“You’re
keeping up with the plane very well,” Hardcastle told her, and meant it.

 
          
“It’s
like holding a rattlesnake with a baseball glove in each hand,” Geffar said,
still afraid to look in any direction but straight at her flight controls.

 
          
“It’s
easier than you think. You got it trimmed up?” Geffar nodded tentatively. “Let
go.”

 
          
“Let
go of the controls?”

 
          
“You’re
not in a chopper any more. Let go.” Slowly Geffar let her hands drop away and
was surprised to find the aircraft just as rocksteady as before, with only tiny
heading and altitude deviations.

 
          
“With
this setup, once you’ve crossed over to airplane mode, you can trim out stick
forces and then fly hands-off.”

 
          
Clearly
impressed, Geffar gently touched the rudder panels and made a few rudder-only
turns, keeping her hands off the stick.

           
Hardcastle checked their progress on
the V-22C’s navigation instruments, then called Miami Air Traffic Control for
overwater flight clearance. “Take it up to two hundred knots,” Hardcastle said
after their clearance to operate in the Air Defense Identification Zone was
received. “It’ll take us a while to get where we’re going.” Geffar handled the
added airspeed expertly, moving the nacelles to almost full horizontal as the
forward airspeed increased.

 
          
“So
your big idea is putting guns on Sea Lion aircraft,” Long radioed up to Hardcastle
from the crew seats in the forward cargo bay. “Pardon my frankness, sir, but I
think it’s a bad idea.”

 
          
“Armed
aircraft are part of the project, Agent Long, but they’re only a small part,”
Hardcastle said. “The main part of this project I’m proposing is a way to
regulate aircraft and vessels entering the
United States
.”

 
          
“We
already do that, Admiral,” Long said. “I believe you know the procedure: Every
vessel entering the
United States
has to provide a manifest of cargo and
passengers to Customs at least two days before entry. Aircraft must file flight
plans and advise Customs at least one day in advance. On arrival each vessel
and aircraft is inspected by Customs or signed off as cleared through Customs.”

 
          
“That
procedure has a basic flaw,” Hardcastle said. “It happens to allow smugglers’
ships and aircraft to enter
U.S.
territory. It gives them virtual free
access to roam our territorial waters and airspace to make drops or
deliveries.”

 
          
“But
how can legitimate vessels do business if they don’t get into port?”

 
          
“They
get in, all right,” Hardcastle said, “but
after
they’re inspected. My proposal requires identification of all vessels and
aircraft
before
they enter American
waters or American airspace.”

 
          
“Before?
You mean inspect a vessel before it reaches a
U.S.
port? Like the Coast Guard does now?”

 
          
“Not
exactly,” Hardcastle said. He motioned out the window, and Long strained to
look outside the wide forward-cockpit canopy.

 
          
Off
in the distance was an enormous platform shaped like a huge diamond, each side
of which was some six hundred feet long. The main deck was five stories high,
with open walkways and glassed-in rooms along the sides. The corners were
narrow and pointed. Attached to the sides of the platform was a series of
floating docks, where several Coast Guard vessels were moored; catwalks led
from the docks up to the lower level of the platform deck. The platform’s
multiple huge legs could barely be seen extending down into the crystal blue
waters.

 
          
On
the huge deck of the platform were four helicopter landing- pads, along with
what appeared to be deck elevators where helicopters might be lowered to maintenance
hangars below deck. Communications antennae and surveillance radars could be
seen on the far side of the platform’s deck beneath an above-deck control
building. Positioned along the edge of the upper deck were service cranes,
elevators and conveyor belts that led nearly to the ocean’s surface.

 
          
They
were still miles from the platform but it was so large it looked like a massive
flat-topped island. “What the hell is that thing?” Long said.

 
          
“It’s
called Hammerhead One,” Hardcastle told him. “Rowan Companies of
Houston
loaned it to us for this project. It’s an
offshore oil-drilling platform modified as a forward command post, military
base, communications center and helipad. The Air Force has been studying using
these things as rocket launch-pads—we’ve just taken the concept a step
further.”