"May I sit in your seat Mike? I've never sat in the pilot's seat of a real aircraft. My brother-in-law Bruno was a test pilot you know but one of his tests killed him. I never really knew him."
"Certainly Sophia, I'll have to ask you to take your shoes off though, we've put some padding down here in case you wanted to get in. Here, I'll help you in. Just swing in, put one foot on the seat and sort of slide in. That's right."
"Thank you. This is so small, how do you and your crew stay in here? Did you fly over in one stage or land in the middle? And what have you seen of Italy so far?"
“Marisol is cramped. When we go for training we are all measured and weighed, then only the smallest SAC pilots fly the RB-58s. We came over in one stage but we refueled from tankers based in the Azores. We could make it in one flight, just, but we would be running on fumes by the time we got in so why take the chance?
"We haven't had a chance to really look around yet, that's something we're all promising ourselves. The thing about Italy we love already is your food. In America, all we really know of Italian cooking is pizza and spaghetti. We'd never guessed there was such a fantastic variety of food and wine here. I'm not sure we'll fit in the cockpits when it comes time to go home."
Sophia laughed and ran her hand over her body "Do not underestimate spaghetti Mike. Everything I have, I owe to spaghetti. But tell me something. 1 have heard that in SAC you pilots talk to your aircraft and sometimes you believe your aircraft talk back. Is this true?"
Mike glanced at his crewmates. They nodded slightly. "Sophia, its more than belief. All three of us talk to Marisol and she speaks back to us." His guest gave him the "boys and their toys" look that women have used since Caveman Ug proudly showed Cavewoman Nug the latest addition to his collection of stone axes. "Honestly Sophia, she really does talk with us."
Sophia gave him a famous dazzling smile. "Mike, I have been asked to take part in a film about the Siege of Myitkyina. I'm supposed to be the wife of one of the bomber pilots. If we have dinner together tonight, could you give me some help with the correct language and way of speaking? Tell me the sort of things that the wife of a SAC pilot would be concerned about. And also tell me more about the relations you have with your aircraft? I would like to know more about you and your Marisol, she is very beautiful indeed."
"Why, thank you Miss Loren." Marisol's voice came out of the intercom speakers either side of the seat.
Sophia Loren's eyes went wide and danced with incredulous delight. Kozlowski and his crew raised eyebrows - for Marisol to speak to somebody outside their tight little circle was unique, unheard of. Bombers only spoke to their crews and then only when a special rapport existed between aircraft and humans. Even then it was never quite certain whether the aircraft really spoke to them or their crews just imagined that they did. Then something else registered and the impact stunned him. Unless his ears were deceiving him, Kozlowski realized he had just been invited to spend an evening with the fabulous Sophia Loren.
North American Aviation Facility Palmdale, California
Her first two sisters were aerodynamic prototypes, barely more than empty shells. They didn't even have the proper crews, being restricted to a pilot and co-pilot. They'd done their job now, they'd be retired to test and research work. Their great white shapes waited outside for the roll-out of the youngest member of the family, the first YB-70A. She was very different, a fully-equipped bomber with a crew of four; a bomber-navigator and a defensive systems operator sitting behind the pilots. Her appearance was strangely different from the original two prototypes. Her shape looked the same although there were subtle differences. It was her color that really marked her out, instead of prototype white, she'd been painted a peculiar translucent creamy-silver.
She'd be faster than her older sisters as well. They'd topped out at Mach 3.2 at 72,000 feet. The prototype test flights had taught the designers a lot though; the YB-70A was expected to reach Mach 3.3, perhaps Mach 3.4. Sometimes, quietly, the engineers spoke of getting to Mach 3.5. They also spoke of flying her at 80,000 feet and over ranges of almost 8,000 miles. If her test program went well, the first of the 250 production B-70As would be joining SAC in less than a couple of years. They'd be replacing the B-52s. The replacement was not before its time. The Gray Lady was a formidable foe, one that even the triple sonic interceptors never took for granted, but her speed and altitude put her within the intercept envelope of ground defenses. That wouldn't be the case with the B-70; there was nothing known that could stop her reaching her targets.
Taking shape in the Palmdale lofts was a design for something that was, in its way, even more remarkable. An airliner that looked like a B-70 but could carry 76 passengers. Pan American had already put in an order for them as the Star Clippers, that meant TWA would be following soon. Flying on the Star Clippers would be expensive compared with the large Convair, Boeing and Douglas airliners but they could get from coast to coast in around 90 minutes. That mean it would be possible to make daily commutes from California to New York and back. The social implications of that were intriguing to put it mildly.
Also in the background was another airliner, one a long way in the future but the reason why representatives from Boeing were here today. North American and Boeing were collaborating on a Mach 3 airliner that would carry more than 200 passengers. That would be truly revolutionary, it would make supersonic air travel something that ordinary people could reach, just as the Convair 990 and the Boeing 707s had made flying a routine activity that the passengers never really thought about.
Today, though was the day of the YB-70A. Her roll-out, the day she would be revealed to the world. The dignitaries and guests were already gathering, waiting for the ceremony to start. North American Aviation had laid on a magnificent buffet lunch for the guests; a copious supply of champagne was chilled and available. The walls of the hangar were covered with briefing panels showing the aircraft, what she could do and how she would perform. In one corner there was even a simulator of the flight deck so people could get in and pretend to be flying America's latest bomber.
Then, there was a hush as a government limousine pulled up. Secretary of Defense Robert McNorman got out and walked up to the aircraft parked in the hangar. The President and CEO of North American Aviation went out to greet him, hand outstretched, but McNorman walked straight past him without saying a word. He pushed the waitress with the tray of champagne to one side, then walked once around the YB-70A. Then, still without saying a word to anybody, he got back into his car and was driven off. Behind him, there was a buzz sweeping through the rollout guests. On the VIP stand, The Seer leaned over to his personal assistant and whispered "Lillith honey, I think he's just declared war."
CHAPTER THREE: ENGAGEMENT
Chang-Shu, China-Tibet Border
Smoke was still drifting across the base, buildings were still wrecked and bodies still had to be removed. The order from the Showa Restoration Council in Tokyo to remove the General from command and replace him had been obeyed, but only at the cost of some bitter lighting. The General and a battalion's worth of loyal troops had dug in and fought hard. They'd been defeated in the end, of course, but it had taken longer and cost more than the plans had anticipated.