“I’m adding Jock MacLeish and Red Brunson to the Guiding Light crew,” said Kilton. “We need to speed this up.”
“Why? We’re working well together and it’s a small team. You said yourself you didn’t want to involve anyone else.”
Kilton snorted. “I’m not asking for your opinion, Millie. Just make sure they’re trained up as quickly as possible.”
Millie stood, trying to think of a better objection.
“Goodbye, Millie.” Kilton dismissed him with a wave of his hand, as if he was a schoolboy in the headmaster’s office.
8
TUESDAY 14TH JUNE
A flash of red streaked across the junction ahead. Millie recognised Rob’s Austin Healey, with the top down. He was also heading in early.
By the time Millie had negotiated the vehicle search and arrived at the tea bar, Rob was in animated conversation with Red Brunson.
Millie took his mug to his desk and sat down by himself.
An admin corporal arrived next to him and handed him a document.
As usual, it was marked TOP SECRET. Inside the front page was a reorganised Guiding Light trials schedule. By the following week, when the second Vulcan was in service, they would double the hours flown.
He tried to do the maths in his head, working out how little time he had left. Once TFU signed the project off, it would swing into production and quickly roll out to the waiting aircraft, both here and in the US.
And buried deep within the circuits, a mistake. A calculation that came out wrong, or maybe just a fluctuating current between tiny electronic components that should be steady. Either way, something had sent a four engine bomber plunging to the ground and no-one except him seemed to care why.
“Heard the news.”
He looked up to see Rob smiling at him.
“Hmm?”
“Red and Jock are joining us.”
“Yes, I heard. Is that exciting to you?”
Rob grabbed a chair and sat down alongside Millie’s desk.
“Come on, Millie. Of course it is. I’ve been dying to share this with Red. Just think, we’ll be flying with someone who rubs shoulders with the men selected to walk on the Moon.”
“Just because he wears that fancy helmet doesn’t make him an astronaut.” Rob grimaced. “I’m sorry, Rob. Of course it’s exciting, especially for you. Keep close to Red. He’s a good man. And he likes you.”
“You think?”
“I do. For the same reason I like you. You’re very likeable.”
“Don’t make me blush.”
A shout came across the room. Rob stood up to join the other pilots in the weather brief.
“When you get back, can you bring Red and Jock into the meeting room?” said Millie. “We need to start the induction.”
Rob nodded and disappeared with a spring in his step.
After they re-emerged, Millie gathered the new crew around the meeting table, with Rob, Speedy and Steve Bright, before closing the door.
“Firstly, as the boss has no doubt explained, this project falls under ‘Top Secret’ and is subject to his philosophy of ‘Need to Know’, which is why a lot of this will be new to you.
“Alongside the more public development of Terrain-Following Radar, we’re flying with a technology that does the same job, but uses light.”
“Light? What do you mean?” Jock asked.
“Laser,” Millie said, and looked up to enjoy the facial expressions he knew this would provoke.
“Laser beams? Are you serious?” Red’s eyes widened.
“Absolutely serious. The boffins at DF Blackton in Cambridge have created what may be the world’s smallest laser. It sits under the Vulcan’s nose, carefully hidden in the usual casing. Mirrors and a gimbal allow it to sweep the terrain ahead. It works not only as a range finder, but it also deduces the ground speed.”
“Phew-wee…” Red whistled.
“They’ve also designed a computer, running on microelectronics, that sits between the laser and the autopilot. We tell the computer where we want to be, using waypoints. It then uses the information from the laser to fly the aircraft at a pre-set height, as efficiently as possible.”
“Just, wow,” Jock said.
RED BRUNSON WHISTLED AGAIN. “Incredible. I thought only NASA did stuff like this. I don’t even think they’re this advanced.”
“They’re not. Your lot have signed a memorandum of understanding. They’re ready to hand the UK one of its biggest export orders in history, when it’s ready.”
Millie glanced at Rob and Steve. “But, we’re not out of the woods on this one. We had a hairy moment a couple of weeks back and we’re currently no lower than a thousand feet above ground level.”
Brunson frowned. “What sort of ‘hairy moment’?”
Before Millie could answer, Rob stepped in.
“Maybe something, maybe nothing, we’re not sure. The jet descended briefly and we switched Guiding Light off. But everything checked out afterwards. The thousand-foot AGL is just a precaution.”
MacLeish leaned back in his chair.
“Am I to assume that was the cause of the row in the mess and poor old Brian Hill’s disappearance?”
“Yes—”
“He overreacted,” said Rob, interrupting Millie. “The equipment was double-checked at Cambridge and the boss is on top of things. I think we should probably let sleeping dogs lie when it comes to Brian. We’ve moved on.”
“Fine,” said Jock. “What would test flying be if there wasn’t the outside chance of plunging into the ground, anyway?”
Rob turned to the two new trial pilots. “When was the last low flying you did?”
Brunson shrugged. “When we practised for today’s gas bomb drop. What was that? A month ago, in a slow Argosy. I haven’t done much, to be frank.”
“I’m definitely out of practice,” said MacLeish.
“No problem,” said Rob. “I’ll arrange a couple of Vulcan training flights to get you into the swing of things. You can have your first experience of letting the computer take over.” He glanced at Millie. “I have to warn you, though. Flying hands-off at low-level takes some getting used to. Jock, you can fly with Speedy, Millie and Steve today, while Red and I get the gas bomb drop out of the way.”
Millie sat back. The pilot side of things was not his area of expertise, but he was taken aback at Rob’s assertiveness. This was a sharp contrast to the timid young man who joined TFU the previous year.
An hour and a half later the same group of men stepped out onto the TFU apron.
“Man, I can’t get over how ugly that thing is,” Red Brunson said, looking across at the Argosy.
Millie watched, curious, as two men in white coats and gas masks fussed around a crate being loaded into the cargo aircraft’s belly.
“Those your gas bombs?”
“Yep,” Brunson replied. “The real things today. Dropping them on a mock village at Porton Down.”
“What’s actually in them?”
“Chlorobenzalmalononitrile,” Brunson said with a flourish. “Took me a while to learn to say that.”
“What the hell is it?” Millie asked as the last crate entered the Argosy.
“Just makes your eyes sting. We’ve been told it won’t kill anyone unless we drop the crate directly onto their heads. In any case the village is populated by dummies.”
“Just like this place then,” Jock said.
The two crews set off for their separate aircraft. Rob and Red Brunson carried gas masks along with their helmets.
TFU’s ageing resident loadmaster, Nigel Woodward, stood at the Argosy, in conversation with the Porton Down scientists. Millie smiled at the generational clash.
They arrived at the Vulcan. Millie made sure he was the last to board, after Jock and Speedy completed their walkaround together.