"Almost like being in the Air Force," Troy said sarcastically.
"Almost, but not quite," Dehnland replied. "I suppose you can blame it on the president."
"Fachearon has certainly screwed things up," Arnold said, noticing a raised eyebrow from Dehnland. "Don't look at me like that… I voted for him."
Indeed, it seemed to many that President Albert Bacon Fachearon had lost control of the government. Like a squirrel in the headlights of an oncoming car, he was vacillating, unsure which way to turn. The economy was in disarray, and Fachearon was unable to reassure the electorate. Around the world, America was facing challenges that went unhandled. Embassies had been burned, but Fachearon seemed confused, unable to respond.
"Seemed like a nice guy," Troy interjected. "A nice guy who's not up to the job."
"Officially, I'm still enough Air Force that I'm not gonna criticize the commander in chief," Dehnland said. "My job is with the HAWX Program. It was government… now it's not, but like him or not, Fachearon's still the commander in chief. Besides, it doesn't matter who's in Washington, we still have a job to do."
"That's what we came to do," Troy said. "I have no interest in politics."
"Your duties here will consist of operational flight testing of new equipment as it comes in," Dehnland said, changing the subject from politics. "All of the aircraft that reach us will have been through their initial flight test program at other remote locations and will be passed along to Cactus Flat when they are deemed ready for operations."
"Are these all prototypes?" Troy asked.
"Some are, some are not," Dehnland replied. "If a prototype got through initial flight testing with minimal tweaking, it may come here. If a prototype demonstrated a tendency to fall out of the sky during initial flight testing, DOD may decide to terminate the program or to have the manufacturer develop a completely new variant. When we get the airplanes, we know they fly. Our job is to determine whether they can fight."
"Where are the planes that we're gonna be flying?" Arnold asked.
"That's a good question," Dehnland replied. "I was just getting to that. Let's take a walk."
He led them into the first of the line of hangars that flanked the Cactus Flat taxiway. The door was secured by combination lock that made it look like a bank vault.
Inside were several aircraft of types they had never seen before.
"In most cases, these are one-of-a-kind, although occasionally they build two for operational testing," Dehnland said.
Closest to the door was a strange, lozenge-shaped airplane with acutely angled wings that Troy recognized as being similar to Boeing's top secret "Bird of Prey" stealth demonstrator that flew back in the 1990s.
From here, they stepped through another door and entered the main part of the hangar, a vast room containing a huge structure that was not immediately identifiable as an airplane. On second glance, they noticed a dozen propellers and realized that this immense object was a long, straight wing.
"This puppy is based on the aircraft that were developed for the NASA Environmental Research Aircraft and Sensor Technology program a few years back," Dehnland said proudly. "You may remember the Pathfinder and the Pathfinder Plus…"
"I also remember the Helios that fell into the Pacific back in 2003," Troy interjected, referring to the follow-on development of the two aircraft that Dehnland had mentioned. Like others in the family, Helios had been a solar-powered, unmanned aircraft.
"They ran into unexpected heavy turbulence and the Helios wing deformed into a persistent, high dihedral configuration," Dehnland explained, describing an airplane whose flexible wings were bent almost straight upward. "This obviously made it unstable and hard to control. It also put so much stress on the outer wing panels that the whole thing broke apart."
"I'm sure glad I wasn't the pilot," Arnold said, looking up at one end of the huge wing.
"Helios was an unmanned aerial vehicle," Dehnland reminded him.
"I know, I was talking about the guy sitting in the trailer running the thing," Arnold said. "I bet he caught all kinds of hell for losing that airplane."
"Not to mention the guy who decided they had to fly a fragile-looking thing like that in bad weather," Troy added.
"We learned a lot from that crash," Dehnland said, nodding toward the aircraft. "Shakuru here has benefited a lot from the loss of Helios."
"Shakuru?" Troy asked.
"Helios was the sun god of ancient Greek mythology," Dehnland said. "Shakuru is the solar deity of the Pawnee Indians."
"I take it that Shakuru is also solar powered," Troy surmised.
"Clever deduction," Dehnland said cynically. "But unlike Helios, it carries a crew, and I bet you can deduce who they are."
"I bet we can," Arnold said, knowing that it was he and Loensch.
Chapter 36
Troy Loensch awoke early on his first day in the desert. His mind seized on Jenna. Was she a missed opportunity, or had her interest in him been merely the same hot, but transitory attention that characterized his ongoing relationship with Yolanda Rodriguez?
Sleep would not return to embrace him, so Troy decided to take a run. Sunrise was still an hour away, but in the east the cloudless sky had already turned a pale salmon. Most of the stars had winked out, but some of the brightest ones still burned faintly. As he ran, Troy fixed his gaze on the horizon, where tiny Mercury, the planet that people call a morning "star," still glowed bravely.
The sun was just topping the eastern horizon as Troy was making his way back to his quarters. He passed the hangar that Mike Dehnland had shown him yesterday, and another that was surrounded by razor wire and a guard tower. How odd, he thought, to have a hangar protected in this way in the center of one of the most secure bases in the world.
The Cactus Flat tarmac was nearly deserted, except for a woman in glasses and a baggy college sweatshirt who looked as though she too had been out for a run. Troy was about to greet her when she spoke first.
"Up early to avoid the rattlesnakes and tarantulas?" She smiled.
"Whoa, I hadn't thought of that," Troy replied. "Cold-blooded invertebrates," she said. "In this climate, they're dormant until the sun warms them up." "Where I've spent most of the past year," Troy said, "the bugs and snakes are up all night long."
"Where's that?"
"Tropics… mainly Southeast Asia, but I did short tours in Central America… and Zambia."
"You must be one of the Firehawk pilots who came in yesterday."
"I sure am, my name's Troy Loensch."
"My name is Elisa Meyers," she said, taking the hand he offered. "I work for Aeroworks, on the Shakuru Project."
She was a small woman, only about five foot five or so, with a warm, engaging presence. There were strands of gray in her dark hair, which she had tied back carelessly. Troy guessed her to be around forty.
"How long have you been out here dodging rattlesnakes and tarantulas?" Troy asked.
"Here? Only a couple of months, but I've been with Aeroworks for eighteen years, most of them spent at bases out in the desert… Yucca West… Groom Lake…. and other places that officially don't have names."
"How do you like it out here?"
"I hated this place when I first came." She laughed. "But it grows on you… especially jogging in the desert before the sun comes up. There was a great writer once who said that the desert at dawn, in some mysterious way of its own, speaks of things eternal, a message whispered through the changing colors of sand and shadows of rocks, and through the air, at once fresh and seductively cool."
"That's poetic," Troy said. "I spent a few months in Sudan a while back. Can't think of any poetry that makes that place seem appealing."