“Aw, c’mon, Beau. Surely there is a way to have peace?”
Again Beau laughed. “The only way a man can live in peace is to live alone — and that is what I intend to do.”
Chapter 3
THE AURORA PROJECT
The secretary told the men Admiral Garrett expected them, and she led them through the door and into his office. Ruben and Beau entered and immediately snapped to a salute. Admiral Garrett in a heated discussion on the phone, paced back and forth behind his desk.
“I don’t give a damn. Call the MPs and have them get Colonel Marix away from the protestors. There are no Smith and Jones here. Get him inside, now!”
Ruben and Beau grinned at each other.
Beau gazed around the office. Nothing had changed. It was the same when he saw it the last time five years earlier. Pictures of planes the admiral had flown filled the walls. In glass displays were decorations and awards he had received. The old antique mahogany desk still wax-shined to a mirror reflection would never change. Only his plush chair showed signs of age. The ashtray was full, and on the desk to the right was a picture of Beau’s parents. He knew Ted and his father had been best friends.
“Damn,” muttered Garrett as he slammed the phone back on the receiver. Immediately his disposition changed when he saw Beau. “It’s good to have you back. Excuse the call. Some protestors at the main gate have Colonel Marix’s car surrounded. They think he’s Beau. They claim a Smith and Jones described the man to them and Marix is the one. At least you two made it through. Smith and Jones… you’d think they could be more original.” Garrett watched the two men closely for a sign that would indicate what he was sure to be the truth. He frowned. “You two didn’t—?” He waved his hands in the air and shook his head, “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
Ruben and Beau could hardly restrain themselves as they turned mischievous eyes on each other. “Excuse me, sir, may I be dismissed?” Ruben asked sheepishly.
“Go on, get out of here and leave us alone,” said Garrett, dismissing Ruben with a wave of his hand. He touched the intercom button and bellowed to his secretary, “Send the sergeant major in.”
“Yes, sir,” came the quick response.
The admiral stood erect. “Beau, I want you to meet Master Sergeant Robert Schmitt. He is on loan from the Air Force and will be working with our little group. I’m sure you have heard of the Aurora Project?”
“Yes sir.”
“There’s something I haven’t told you. A public showing of a manned space plane is scheduled for tomorrow at 1200 hours. It will bring years of preparation to a successful conclusion.”
“Blackbird?” asked Beau. He was confident of the answer, knowing the SR-71 was probably the swiftest aircraft in the world and one of the few capable of reaching in excess of 150,000 feet. If he could only fly the Blackbird again.
Previously only Air Force officers were allowed to fly the Blackbird, but under Bush’s New World Order the military was to mix. No longer would Naval Aircraft be restricted to aircraft carriers nor were Naval officers forbidden to fly the modified SR-71. This change gave Beau Gex and others an opportunity to test and fly the modified space plane. Although Beau was familiar with the aircraft, he had never flown the modified version.
But the presidential military changes did more than just allow Gex the opportunity to fly the Blackbird. Under Clinton there was no control and it continued under former President Bush’s son. More Americans were killed by American soldiers’ mistakes than any hostile nation during the Bush and Clinton terms. American jets bombed American ground troops; helicopters crashed into each other for no reason at all. Even foreign ships were not safe, as emphasized when the American submarine sunk a Japanese ship full of students. Military personnel on the ship blamed civilians for distracting them. But the changes had enabled Beau to learn the intricacies of the SR-71 Blackbird.
“Correct, but not the Blackbird as you know it,” Garrett confirmed. “The pilot is having ear problems and can’t fly. You are the only one qualified so you will run the test tomorrow. The top brass can’t fly in another pilot. They are afraid it will delay the project, which is what they do not want. For the Aurora Project to be successful it can tolerate no delays. Besides, having someone who is not on the active list will give more credibility to the project.”
“Yes sir.” Beau could not have been happier. “The space shuttle?”
“Obsolete,” said Garrett as the door to his office opened. “After the Challenger they were determined to develop a space plane. Now we have them.”
Sergeant Major Robert Schmitt entered the room and Garrett introduced Beau. Schmitt was a slightly built man with a large jaw and narrow shoulders. Years of working as a mechanic had increased the size of his hands and forearms, giving one the impression of the cartoon character Popeye. All he needed was a pipe and a sailor’s cap. Traces of grime could be detected beneath his fingernails. There was strength in his handshake and a sparkle in his eye.
Robert had been around since the Vietnam War and at one time attached to a squadron of flyers, including Beau’s father and Ted. Robert was a master of all engines, although his true love was old prop driven aircraft. His contention was the jets were too sophisticated and had too many problems. “They shouldn’t have ever made jets,” he would say. Kids taught him the use of computers, which he continued to despise, but despite all his verbal abuse of them, he was excellent with the hated things.
“Nice to meet you sir,” said Robert. “I knew your dad. A fine man. Call me Robby, everyone else does. Next thing you know kids will be rebuilding the jets and I’ll be watching instead of gettin’ my hands dirty. They shouldn’t ever have—”
“That’s enough Robby,” interjected Garrett, before his old friend went off on one of his tirades.
“Yes Sir. Sorry Sir.”
“Would you like to tell Commander Gex the nature of the mission?” Garrett ordered more than asked.
“Captain, the SR-71 has been modified and can fly directly into space. Modifications are complete so as to accommodate two people on a mission. There is room for a small amount of supplies and equipment. There are two-, four-, and eight-man versions completed that are similar to the SR-71 but are pure space planes. Your test tomorrow in a converted SR-71 will take you to 300,000 feet at Mach-8. At 150,000 feet the scramjets will take over.”
“Wait a minute… Mach-8, 300,000 feet?” questioned Beau.
“Correct, the chine or front nose has been modified—”
Beau interrupted. “You lose stability at three-point-five. How do you expect to reach Mach-8 safely? The slightest input is greatly magnified at those speeds and will throw the Blackbird out of control.”
“Not anymore! It will surpass Mach-8 and do it safely, with control and stability you would expect to find at Mach-1 or Mach-2. Past Mach-2 a computer system takes control, adjusting the guidance and control system of the SR-71. It controls the rudder, ailerons, and chine forcing a larger input from the pilot for a smaller aircraft response, thus allowing greater control at such high speeds.”
“But 300,000 feet?” queried Beau.
“I understand you took it to 130,000. It was capable of more and could have surpassed 150,000. In fact, Sir, this is just a test. The Blackbird is capable of flying directly into space and attaining a speed of Mach-25.”
“Mach-25!”
“And with a tenth of the effort and ten times the ease when you flew it at 130,000 feet,” Robert added. “In fact, if you’ve ever flown the Blackbird you can easily fly the modified version with just a few simple verbal instructions before takeoff.”