a rag from his flight bag to wipe down any smudges.
“What I’m doing is making sure the access panels and control seals are buttoned up extra tight,” he explained while tugging against a flap panel. “The outer mold line needs to look like it did straight from the factory…smooth as a baby’s butt. We don’t want so much as a centimeter of skin out hanging in the breeze.”
“I wondered. So this isn’t your normal preflight inspection?” Wade asked.
“Not hardly,” Ryan said, hopping down the ladder to work his way forward to the yawning engine intakes. “Little things mean a lot at these speeds.”
“Turbulence hot spots?”
“Bingo. Anything that disrupts boundary airflow screws up our heat distribution. Any turbulent areas get real hot, real fast. Doesn’t help with drag either. The faster we go, the worse it gets.”
The extreme friction and compression heating always threatened to become a problem. Keeping the outer mold line—the shape the air “feels”—as close as possible to the original design controlled temperatures across the spaceplane, not concentrating it too much in any one place.
“Drag increases with the square of velocity,” Wade agreed. “I imagine you don’t spend much time transonic,” he said. The spaceplane’s broad, black nose towered ahead of them atop gangly landing gear.
“As little as possible,” Ryan said. “Sounds like you know your way around an airplane. So what exactly does Magrath’s ‘transportation manager’ do?”
Wade looked down with a self-effacing grin. “Pretty much whatever I want,” he laughed. “He gives me a lot of latitude to manage the company fleet and run business deals like this.”
“What sort of fleet?”
“Well, there’s the royal barge for starters. He keeps an eighty-footer berthed in Sydney. Two helicopters, one on the yacht. I fly those sometimes. But you’re probably wondering about the jets.”
“Always,” Ryan said as he marked another panel. “Not that I could ever afford one, but toys are always fun to talk about.”
“He has a couple of Falcon Sevens and a Global Express. I’m checked out to fly right seat in the Falcon whenever he’s on board, but most of the time I’m riding a desk at the LA office. Our purchasing team had been out here all week, and Mr. Magrath was coming to meet Hammond face-to-face.”
“Awfully quick meeting for such a big deal,” Ryan observed. “What happened?”
“Nothing on your side to worry about,” Wade assured him. “Another deal he’s been massaging in Singapore hit a snag. Local politics.”
Which meant Magrath was probably going to grease a few palms to keep whatever project it was moving ahead, Ryan realized. “Guess it’s pretty important. The guy doesn’t waste time, does he?”
“That’s why he wants one of these,” Wade said. He knew there were other, more personal reasons as well. “He’ll have the whole world at his feet then.”
Wade’s tone revealed a trace of cynicism, so Ryan took the opening. “Money can’t buy happiness, they say.”
“True. But Magrath will tell you it’ll buy a boat big enough to sail right up next to it.”
…
“They want what ?” Donner blurted out. He had just taken the call from maintenance control, tasking him with cleaning up 501 for its record attempt.
“The FO marked a dozen or so spots where panels are out of tolerance. He also wants some leak residue cleaned up,” said the disaffected voice on the other end of the line.
“All so they can be hotdogs and get their names in the record books? Nice of ‘em to give us a warning,” he grumbled. “We just got that bird fixed and now they want to show off in it?”
The maintenance boss cut him off. “That’s enough, Donner. Hammond called flight control himself and said ‘make it happen’. So make it happen!”
The line went silent. Donner continued to hold the phone to his ear and nodded, trying to salvage his dignity. “All right, all
“What I’m doing is making sure the access panels and control seals are buttoned up extra tight,” he explained while tugging against a flap panel. “The outer mold line needs to look like it did straight from the factory…smooth as a baby’s butt. We don’t want so much as a centimeter of skin out hanging in the breeze.”
“I wondered. So this isn’t your normal preflight inspection?” Wade asked.
“Not hardly,” Ryan said, hopping down the ladder to work his way forward to the yawning engine intakes. “Little things mean a lot at these speeds.”
“Turbulence hot spots?”
“Bingo. Anything that disrupts boundary airflow screws up our heat distribution. Any turbulent areas get real hot, real fast. Doesn’t help with drag either. The faster we go, the worse it gets.”
The extreme friction and compression heating always threatened to become a problem. Keeping the outer mold line—the shape the air “feels”—as close as possible to the original design controlled temperatures across the spaceplane, not concentrating it too much in any one place.
“Drag increases with the square of velocity,” Wade agreed. “I imagine you don’t spend much time transonic,” he said. The spaceplane’s broad, black nose towered ahead of them atop gangly landing gear.
“As little as possible,” Ryan said. “Sounds like you know your way around an airplane. So what exactly does Magrath’s ‘transportation manager’ do?”
Wade looked down with a self-effacing grin. “Pretty much whatever I want,” he laughed. “He gives me a lot of latitude to manage the company fleet and run business deals like this.”
“What sort of fleet?”
“Well, there’s the royal barge for starters. He keeps an eighty-footer berthed in Sydney. Two helicopters, one on the yacht. I fly those sometimes. But you’re probably wondering about the jets.”
“Always,” Ryan said as he marked another panel. “Not that I could ever afford one, but toys are always fun to talk about.”
“He has a couple of Falcon Sevens and a Global Express. I’m checked out to fly right seat in the Falcon whenever he’s on board, but most of the time I’m riding a desk at the LA office. Our purchasing team had been out here all week, and Mr. Magrath was coming to meet Hammond face-to-face.”
“Awfully quick meeting for such a big deal,” Ryan observed. “What happened?”
“Nothing on your side to worry about,” Wade assured him. “Another deal he’s been massaging in Singapore hit a snag. Local politics.”
Which meant Magrath was probably going to grease a few palms to keep whatever project it was moving ahead, Ryan realized. “Guess it’s pretty important. The guy doesn’t waste time, does he?”
“That’s why he wants one of these,” Wade said. He knew there were other, more personal reasons as well. “He’ll have the whole world at his feet then.”
Wade’s tone revealed a trace of cynicism, so Ryan took the opening. “Money can’t buy happiness, they say.”
“True. But Magrath will tell you it’ll buy a boat big enough to sail right up next to it.”
…
“They want what ?” Donner blurted out. He had just taken the call from maintenance control, tasking him with cleaning up 501 for its record attempt.
“The FO marked a dozen or so spots where panels are out of tolerance. He also wants some leak residue cleaned up,” said the disaffected voice on the other end of the line.
“All so they can be hotdogs and get their names in the record books? Nice of ‘em to give us a warning,” he grumbled. “We just got that bird fixed and now they want to show off in it?”
The maintenance boss cut him off. “That’s enough, Donner. Hammond called flight control himself and said ‘make it happen’. So make it happen!”
The line went silent. Donner continued to hold the phone to his ear and nodded, trying to salvage his dignity. “All right, all
Similar Books
