Perigee Read Online Free Page A
could tear an engine apart, if not wrench it completely out of the airframe.
He gently backed off the throttles and closed his eyes. Despite all of the information at their command, he needed to sense any telltale vibrations, any dissonance that could signal trouble.
Tom exhaled, as if emerging from a trance. “Hilo weather?” he finally asked.
“Ceiling broken at eight grand, visibility six miles. Winds light and variable. There’s a GPS approach to the main runway, but you’re not going to need it, skipper,” Ryan said. “Flow ratio’s up to point nine. Nacelle temps heading down towards fourteen hundred.”
Tom sighed in relief. It was nearly time to start their final boost back out of the atmosphere. “Just keep those callouts coming. And I hate it when you call me ‘skipper’,” he said. “Sounds like some prep-school weenie.”
“Old habits are hard to break…skipper,” Ryan countered with a grin. “Too much time out on the boat I guess.”
“I thought you jarheads didn’t let the Navy get to you like that.”
Ryan ignored the barb. As a former Marine among so many ex-Air Force “zoomies,” he’d long ago gotten used to being a minority. Old service rivalries apparently lasted forever.
…
Denver
Grant frowned as he pored over the latest weather. Every airport along the Front Range was reporting improved visibility but turbulent winds. A whopper of a low-pressure system that had plunged down from Canada that morning was finally sweeping east. Thank goodness for that, the dispatcher thought, as two of his other Clippers had already come close to diverting across the mountains to Salt Lake. As it was, they were just trading rotten visibility for even worse winds.
Checking his flight’s position reports, he could see that 1302 had just started their next boost. Their engine temperatures were under control, but they had used a boatload of fuel in the process so now most of their reserves were gone. Looking up at an air-traffic display, he could see Denver approach was already stacking up flights halfway into Nevada. Gentry would have no time to waste once they arrived in the area.
New high-altitude wind reports had also come in with the forecasts and he looked to them for any advantage, however slight. He quickly fed them into 1302’s flight plan and recalculated the entry profile they’d need to reach Denver. After a quick phone call to the control tower, he hurriedly banged out a missive to Austral Clipper .
ATTN 1302 // WE SHOW FUEL AT ADVISORY MINS…ATC CLEARING U DIRECT TO RWY 08 ARRIVAL…UPLINKED NEW WINDS FOR DESCENT PROFILE…HAPPY TRAILS // GRANT.
After another check of their last position, he turned his attention to the three other inbound Clippers that were lighting up his message console. Yeesh , he thought. Funny how everything starts swirling down the drain all at once.
…
Flight 1302
Well before they reached apogee, Marcy could feel the engines cut back. They’d coast over the top of their parabola all the way through re-entry.
As the engine’s basso rumble trailed off they were suddenly lifted from their seats, a sensation not unlike going over the top of a rollercoaster. The inevitable loose items floated free as well; there were kids aboard and no amount of grown-up admonition could contain the unpredictable curiosity of a small child. Stray video game cards and a handful of colored candy were soon drifting about to the sound of unrestrained giggling.
The flotsam was joined by an antique fountain pen which clearly wasn’t some child’s toy. Searching amongst the passengers, she spotted an older gentleman in a window seat with a wet, blue spot spread across his shirt pocket. She marveled at the sight of him floating in his harness, sound asleep. Some people can snooze through anything , she thought, and carefully clipped it back inside his coat.
…
“Shutdown complete. Engines at flight idle,” Ryan said, slipping the checklist
He gently backed off the throttles and closed his eyes. Despite all of the information at their command, he needed to sense any telltale vibrations, any dissonance that could signal trouble.
Tom exhaled, as if emerging from a trance. “Hilo weather?” he finally asked.
“Ceiling broken at eight grand, visibility six miles. Winds light and variable. There’s a GPS approach to the main runway, but you’re not going to need it, skipper,” Ryan said. “Flow ratio’s up to point nine. Nacelle temps heading down towards fourteen hundred.”
Tom sighed in relief. It was nearly time to start their final boost back out of the atmosphere. “Just keep those callouts coming. And I hate it when you call me ‘skipper’,” he said. “Sounds like some prep-school weenie.”
“Old habits are hard to break…skipper,” Ryan countered with a grin. “Too much time out on the boat I guess.”
“I thought you jarheads didn’t let the Navy get to you like that.”
Ryan ignored the barb. As a former Marine among so many ex-Air Force “zoomies,” he’d long ago gotten used to being a minority. Old service rivalries apparently lasted forever.
…
Denver
Grant frowned as he pored over the latest weather. Every airport along the Front Range was reporting improved visibility but turbulent winds. A whopper of a low-pressure system that had plunged down from Canada that morning was finally sweeping east. Thank goodness for that, the dispatcher thought, as two of his other Clippers had already come close to diverting across the mountains to Salt Lake. As it was, they were just trading rotten visibility for even worse winds.
Checking his flight’s position reports, he could see that 1302 had just started their next boost. Their engine temperatures were under control, but they had used a boatload of fuel in the process so now most of their reserves were gone. Looking up at an air-traffic display, he could see Denver approach was already stacking up flights halfway into Nevada. Gentry would have no time to waste once they arrived in the area.
New high-altitude wind reports had also come in with the forecasts and he looked to them for any advantage, however slight. He quickly fed them into 1302’s flight plan and recalculated the entry profile they’d need to reach Denver. After a quick phone call to the control tower, he hurriedly banged out a missive to Austral Clipper .
ATTN 1302 // WE SHOW FUEL AT ADVISORY MINS…ATC CLEARING U DIRECT TO RWY 08 ARRIVAL…UPLINKED NEW WINDS FOR DESCENT PROFILE…HAPPY TRAILS // GRANT.
After another check of their last position, he turned his attention to the three other inbound Clippers that were lighting up his message console. Yeesh , he thought. Funny how everything starts swirling down the drain all at once.
…
Flight 1302
Well before they reached apogee, Marcy could feel the engines cut back. They’d coast over the top of their parabola all the way through re-entry.
As the engine’s basso rumble trailed off they were suddenly lifted from their seats, a sensation not unlike going over the top of a rollercoaster. The inevitable loose items floated free as well; there were kids aboard and no amount of grown-up admonition could contain the unpredictable curiosity of a small child. Stray video game cards and a handful of colored candy were soon drifting about to the sound of unrestrained giggling.
The flotsam was joined by an antique fountain pen which clearly wasn’t some child’s toy. Searching amongst the passengers, she spotted an older gentleman in a window seat with a wet, blue spot spread across his shirt pocket. She marveled at the sight of him floating in his harness, sound asleep. Some people can snooze through anything , she thought, and carefully clipped it back inside his coat.
…
“Shutdown complete. Engines at flight idle,” Ryan said, slipping the checklist
Readers choose
V. L. Brock
Patric Michael
Barbara Allan
Claire Hennessy
David Anthony Durham
Agatha Christie
Sage C. Holloway
Kim Baldwin, Xenia Alexiou