The airports that they were flying out of lately were already at 5,000 feet mean sea level. Between sea level and 10,000 feet was the physiological-efficient zone, which meant that the oxygen levels were usually high enough for Wu and Liu to fly without supplemental oxygen. The physiological-deficient zone went from about 13,000 feet, to about to about 50,000 feet, and there was always a chance of trapping gas in the body as it expanded, called dysbarism. Evolved-gas dysbarism, known to pilots and flight surgeons as decompression sickness, was when gases such as nitrogen could form in the body. This was considered an exceptional incident, but it did happen.
Above 35,000 feet, an oxygen-rich breathing mixture was required for Wu and Liu to simulate the oxygen levels closer to earth, and flying Devil Dragon above 40,000 feet was almost always under positive pressure. When Devil Dragon flew above 60,000 feet, known as the Armstrong limit, liquids in the lungs and throat could boil away. The special pressurized cockpit that Chen designed bypassed most of these limitations, and if they were scheduled for these very high altitude rides, the ground crew could suit them up in the pressurized suits as a precaution.
Devil Dragon, designed to photograph thousands of miles of terrain for analysis, collect electronic emissions, or deliver a nuclear or conventional payload, was the world’s fastest jet at home and abroad. She was an aviator’s dream to fly, and a potential nightmare to an adversary strategist, Prime Minster, or President.
No one knew she existed.
“Hi Roger. This is Michelle Boyd from DIA. I’m looking for Jessica. Is she around?” asked Michelle.
Michelle was on hold, her foot kicked out to the side and waiting, when two of her cubicle mates came by to drop off their things at their desks. Michelle closed her eyes and hoped Jessica would be just a few seconds longer, and turned away.
“Hey Michelle, this is Jessica. How are you, cuz?” said Jessica.
“Great, girl. How are you doing? What’s new?” replied Michelle.
Michelle’s cubicle mates left the area and went to the bathroom. She knew they would be a few minutes, so the opportunity to talk was now or never.
“Really good. Since I saw you last, Joey and I have been talking about getting married! Ah, work is going okay, but, ummm… I’m excited! Ohh, and the Chair talked to me about coming with him to work on his reelection campaign and…,” said Jessica.
“That’s so great, Jessica. I’m happy for you,” said Michelle, and then added “I don’t have more than two minutes, girl, but need a favor.”
“Oh. Okay. What is it?”
“The Deputy is coming over then for a Hart Hearing this afternoon, right?”
“Let me check. Ahh… yeah, an open hearing. Starts at 2:15.”
“Good. Can youuuu… pass to the Chairman… that he should ask the Deputy about the auditorium brief this morning.”
Silence.
“Ohhhkayyy. That’s a bit weird. Why? What subject?”
“You know I can’t talk about it over an open phone. Just have him ask.”
“Michelle, it’s an open hearing. Plus, you know he’s going to ask me why, and what subject.”
“Huff. I know he will ask. Don’t tell him it’s from me, just have him ask what the latest update is on the topic covered in this morning’s DIA auditorium brief.”
“I don’t know about doing that, Michelle. This doesn’t sound right. Are you sure because-”
Michelle was going impatient and interrupted her. “Jessica, it will apply pressure where pressure is needed. I need, and you need, to weed out some turds who are being good-idea-fairies in public, and, unfortunately, have the Deputy’s ear. We have yahoos over here shooting from the hip without any factual data, so… put it that way.”
“Are you sure, Michelle? This seems like…”
“Yes… Jess. It’s big.”
A long pause of silence, and a huff of breath. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Drinking vodka again and this time stumbling a bit when walking, Lieutenant General Chen saw Wu and headed directly from the political and General Officer reception right over to him. Wu was not fond of the Lieutenant General, and rarely let someone know of his emotions. Chen knew Wu was the best pilot he had in their Air Force, which was why he was selected to test fly the Devil Dragon.
“WU LEE! LEE! I SEE YOU. GET OVER HERE!” he screamed, but the hangar was so vast and loud, not that many onlookers heard what was going on.
Wu walked over, wearing his flight gear, and carrying his helmet, in addition to his helmet bag and flight notes. He had a stack of notes on his kneeboard after every flight, and whether things worked great or not during a test flight, usually typed the performance data afterwards for maintenance and engineering review.
“Lee. Get out of that dirty flight suit and get over to meet with the Party officials some more. They want to talk with you,” Chen told him. Then squinting his eyes a bit, and turning his head slightly, he eyed Lee. “You are losing some weight, Lee. You look unhealthy. Sick. Why are you losing so much weight?” Chen aggressively asked, then without waiting for an answer, walked away back towards the reception.
“Just exercising, sir. Running. Okay, okay, I’ll be right over,” Wu answered to the General’s back, but dreading he had to go over and glad hand the politicals in the Party. Wu thought about all the leaders he had in his Air Force, and there were many good ones. Unfortunately, Chen was not one of them.
Ford Stevens was complete with his medical physical and made it home, officially exhausted. Still feeling sick to his stomach with an aching in his stomach that wouldn’t stop, he took some of the flight surgeon prescribed Tylenol and Tums, and plopped down on the dirty cream-white sofa in the rental house that he and his three roommates rented. It was mid-afternoon, and he would now be known as the aircraft commander of a ground mishap until he could clear his name.
Complete with full statements to the Flight Surgeon, Wing Mishap Investigator and Chief of the Crash, Fire, and Rescue, he sat in silence for a moment at the house, wondering if they were going to pin this mistake on him. Someone was always responsible in the Air Force, and, after all, he did sign for the aircraft, and at that moment, have responsibility for the jet. At this point, it was a waiting game for the Ellsworth AFB leadership to formally establish the Mishap Investigation Board, and have the Pilot Member of the Board call him for additional statements and information. Ford was obviously concerned, because if he was found responsible, it would be the end of his flying days and his career.
Ford stood up, unzipped his flight suit, and pulled it down around his waist and tied the sleeves around himself. He bent down to get out his smart phone from his lower left side pocket on his leg. He looked at the phone, scrolled through, and saw his texts. Ford looked out the back window at the vast open space on the Dakota prairie, then back at the phone to the text app.
Wu and Ford had kept in close contact though the years. Although from two different countries, they remained the best of friends, and accomplished their mutual goals of becoming military pilots. Ever since the aviation bug bit them while white water rafting, they were both obsessed with flying.