Read Online Perigee by Patrick Chiles - Free Book Online

right. I’ll be out there in a minute,” he muttered, shooting a glance at his assistant. “You know how many pilots it takes to screw in a light bulb, don’t you?” he asked. “One. He just holds it up to the socket and waits for the world to turn around him!”
    The younger technician turned away, smiling. They must have really nailed the cranky bugger .
    …
     
    “Polaris guests waiting for flight 501, Austral Clipper charter service to Singapore, are now invited to board.”
    Each Clipper could only carry thirty people, all of whom were treated as “executive class” and as such the boarding gates were clustered around private lounges. Colin Magrath was still nursing a drink when the boarding call finally came, and his staff hurriedly finished their business to head for the jetway.
    Once aboard, Marcy took great care to make sure everyone’s four-point, aerobatic seatbelts were fastened and that any loose items were tucked away. Regardless, there would always be considerable cleanup after each flight. Even the frequent fliers couldn’t resist setting random items loose in freefall.
    There were other, more delicate tasks, such as instructing them on how to use the zero-g toilet.
    “Are you serious?” one asked. “There’s an alarm on that thing?”
    “It’s very subtle, but yes, I’m afraid so,” Marcy explained. “There are pressure sensors around the rim to make sure you’re, well, properly sealed. Otherwise, things could get a bit messy up there.”
    “Wonderful.”

10
     
    Denver
     
    Tom pressed his face against the side windshield to make certain their intakes were clear. As the engines spun up, any stray piece of equipment or unfortunate soul standing in the wrong spot could instantly be sucked down an inlet and puréed. Ryan did the same on his side as a tug slowly pushed them out of their parking spot, lurching along the pavement.
    “Number One start valves open,” Tom commanded as they went through the startup checklist.
    “Start valves open on One,” Ryan answered. “Boost pumps on.”
    “Ignite.”
    A low whine swelled up from underneath them as the first engine rumbled awake. Once it was idling steadily, they began the same process for the other two. The plane shuddered with each successive ignition until they were surrounded with a steady, dissonant hum.
    Tom made a final check of the engine displays as the tug disconnected with a thud. “All three are sitting pretty at twelve percent. Start up sequence complete.”
    “Start valves off,” Ryan said, thumbing a switch above his head. “Igniters...off.”
    “All right, then. Tell ground we’re ready to taxi.”
    …
     
    Penny watched as one route after another turned yellow on the big map projection, which signaled they were pushing back from their gates and taxiing out for takeoff. Expected departure times flashed above each line. “How’s your team’s telemetry, Charlie?”
    “All birds are streaming live, no squawks.”
    “And 501?”
    Those who didn’t know her well might have been surprised at her concern, but Grant chalked it up to professional caution more than anything else. She maintained a healthy skepticism toward treating any radical flying machine as something routine.
    Even the friggin’ Concorde was damned lucky to go thirty years before having a fatal, she’d said many times in private . What do you think would’ve happened if they’d ever had a rapid decompression at sixty thousand feet? Be even worse if that ever happened to us—I sure wouldn’t want to try a high-dive from a hundred thousand feet at Mach 5 .
    Grant pulled up their status on a monitor. As the plane came to life, so did the streams of information on their screens. “Plane’s off blocks at idle power, cleared to taxi. Relax, Penny. They’re big boys. Let them wring that thing out and stretch its legs.”
    “Just make sure your guys have solid data before they blast off,” she said. “When all the stars line up perfectly,