“Nothing since you left, sir. You did get one inquiry from Roger Winslow over at KXBC. He wanted to know if you had anything new about the cause of the Titan failure. I just told him he’d have to bide his time with the other reporters until an official news bulletin is released.”
Lansford grinned.
“Keep those dogs at bay, Sergeant Sprawlings. Now, I’d better get moving. See you in the office shortly.”
Hanging up the receiver, Lansford entered the car and turned its ignition. The engine responded with a roar and the senior officer carefully guided it up the steep, rough earthen roadway that led to Coast Road.
As he continued on to the main thoroughfare, he passed through a series of scrub-covered hills. Filled with razor-sharp cactus and thistle, the dry landscape was home to jackrabbits, mice, and plenty of rattlesnakes.
Having had plenty of close encounters with this species of reptile, Lansford was happy to have the shelter of his automobile around him.
The car’s shocks got a full test as the vehicle passed over a washed-out ravine, skirted a large pothole, and bounded over a rock-filled trench. On the other side of this trench were the railroad tracks, which Lansford quickly crossed. This placed him facing Coast Road. There his progress was momentarily halted, for he had to wait for a convoy of southward-bound trucks to pass before pulling onto the paved, two-lane roadway.
The huge semis were of a similar size and design. He had no doubt in his mind that they were all bound for the same location, for nestled in the parched hills to his right was Space Launch Complex 6. After months of inactivity, he could just imagine the frantic activity taking place there now as the site crew struggled to get Slik 6 back to life. Fighting the impulse to check their progress, he instead turned his car to the left after the last of the trucks had passed. This section of the Coast Road led directly northward and was fortunately free of traffic. Thus he was able to make excellent progress. With the blue Pacific passing on his left and the rolling foothills, where the Titan launch complexes were situated, to his right, Lansford focused his attention solely on his driving. All too soon, he was crossing the Coast sentry gate and rounding the broad curve that led to the entrance to Ocean Beach Park.
Continuing on down Ocean Avenue, away from the Pacific now, Lansford wondered how that crew of archaeologists were doing. Though he would have liked to take some time out to apologize to them for the rather abrupt manner in which they had been removed from their dig site on Tranquillon Ridge, he had been too busy to do so. Once he got the active search for the Titan debris under way, however, he would contact the young woman in charge of the archaeology project. Since the Air Force’s renewed interest in Slik 6 would keep Tranquillon off limits for. the time being, perhaps a new excavation site could be found for them. Otherwise, their summer fieldwork program would soon be over. With this in mind, he made a left hand turn on 13th Street, and after crossing the Santa Ynez River passed over what appeared to be a large, vacant field. Strategically placed within the clumps of raw woods visible there, were not only various telemetry installations, but also the security kennels where the base’s police-dogs were trained and boarded. He continued up a steep hill side, and set his eyes on a number of structures set on both sides of the road. Only after passing the unassuming brick building containing Base Headquarters, where his own office was situated, did he turn to his left on Airfield Road.
Vandenberg was one of the few Air Force bases in America that didn’t have a single fixed-wing aircraft under its auspices. In fact, the only airborne vehicles on its inventory consisted of a detachment of Bell UH-1N Iroquois helicopters that were used for aerial launch surveillance, security, and other rescue and recovery operations. This was in spite of the fact that Vandenberg had a 15,000-foot runway, one of the largest of its kind in the world. Specially designed to accommodate such unique craft as the space shuttle, the airfield was quite capable of handling the likes of the giant transport plane currently approaching from the southeast.
Lansford arrived at the terminal building in time to see the Lockheed C-5A Galaxy initiate its final descent.
This lumbering silver-and-white-winged giant was the largest airplane in the Air Force’s inventory.
Sporting a fuselage length of over 247 feet, it had a 222-foot wing span that offered an available wing area of 6,200 square feet. This amazing feature, plus a quartet of 41,000-pound-thrust General Electric turbofan engines, allowed the C-5A to lift an unprecedented payload of one quarter of a million tons.
With its massive wings drooping and its engines squealing, the Galaxy lowered its twenty-eight-wheel landing gear and prepared to touch down. Leaving the confines of his automobile in time to see this event, Lansford could hardly believe it when the MAC transport ground to a halt after using barely half the available runway space. Whistling in appreciation of this remarkable feat, he looked on as the plane began taxiing towards him.
The loud, grinding report of a diesel engine’s sudden activation sounded to his left, and Lansford turned and set his eyes on the cab of a large tractor trailer as it pulled off the runway’s shoulder toward the approaching plane. Though it appeared to be a normal truck cab, he knew that it held a specially designed motor, and had just been driven up from San Diego. It was to be used to transport the C-5A’s main piece of cargo to Vandenberg’s Point Arguello dock site Most satisfied that all appeared to be going smoothly, Lansford made his way over to the spot on the taxi-way where the Galaxy was in the process of braking to a final halt.
Just as the Lieutenant Colonel reached the plane’s side, the C-5A’s forward fuselage hatch popped open.
From this opening, a self-contained stairway was lowered. First down its length was a blue, jumpsuited MAC airman. Greeting Lansford with a smart salute, the airman led the way for a group of khaki-clad Navy personnel. Appearing fit, tanned, and happy to be on the solid earth once more, this group assembled beside the plane’s nose. There Todd Lansford greeted them.
“Gentlemen, you must be the crew of the Marlin.
I’m Lieutenant Colonel Lansford, and I’ll be your host during your visit here. On behalf of the United States Air Force, I’d like to welcome you to Vandenberg.”
Making his way out of the group was a single officer. Easily the oldest individual of the bunch, he sported a head of gray hair, a beard-stub bled face, and probing blue eyes. Though his khakis were a bit wrinkled, his handshake was firm and voice strong.
“Thank you. Lieutenant Colonel Lansford. I’m Commander Will Pierce, Officer-in-Charge of the DSRV Marlin, and this bunch of malcontents are the rest of her complement. I’d like you to meet Lieutenants Marvin and Blackmore, my junior officers.”
Stepping out of the pack to trade handshakes with Lansford were a pair of officers who could never pass for twins. The smaller of these two individuals. Ensign Marvin, was skinny as a rail and almost completely bald, except for two strands of frizzy black hair that lay behind his rather pointed ears. Lieutenant Blackmore was in every way his opposite. Serious-faced and hesitant to meet Lansford’s stare, Blackmore stood at least six feet tall, with a muscular build and a thick head of blond hair.
A quick round of introductions followed, as Lansford hastily met the group of petty officers and seamen who made up the rest of the DSRV’s crew. In general, they seemed a young, congenial bunch. It was evident from their bronze complexions that they spent much of their time outdoors. Ever mindful of where they had flown in from, Lansford wondered what it would be like to have duty in a paradise such as Hawaii.
A loud, hydraulic hiss sounded from the fuselage, and each of the men looked up as the C-5A’s lower nose section began to lift upward. Soon it covered the cockpit windows and was directed straight into the sky. This opened the interior of the aircraft for their examination. Barely visible under the plane’s interior lights was the sleek, cylindrical, shiny black DSRV.