Thorpe's Candle

CIRRUS

“See anything yet, Boomer?”

The voice came over his headset as the tail-boom operator of the specially modified KC-135Q searched the inky black void. Only a half-hour earlier, he'd watched the sun drop below the horizon and the sky shift from rose to indigo. Now the blackness was complete — the stars only distant pinpoints. “Nothing yet, sir.”

The plane had been in the air for over six hours and the boom operator was tired. The mission sounded exciting at first — a mysterious rendezvous and refueling — the tanker carried a classified exotic fuel. But as the hours wore on, he became bored and spent most of the time thinking of overhauling the carburetor on his pickup the next day.

“I see her,” he said suddenly. A series of flashing green and red strobes appeared out of the black night converging on the tanker from the west. Although no one had said what kind of aircraft they would be refueling, he had heard the whispers and rumors. Now he knew for sure he was about to get his first look at what only a few had ever seen — the Cirrus.

The successor to the SR-71 Blackbird, the SR-92 Cirrus was the latest product to emerge from the ultra-secret Groom Lake facility at Nellis AFB, Nevada. It was black like the sky that cloaked it — its nose a long needle that extended out of a manta ray-shaped body. The dark visitor dropped into place behind and below the tail-boom operator's position. Then a new voice filled his headset.

“Greetings, Lighthouse. Hope you take credit cards ‘cause we're clean out of cash.”

“Roger, Slingshot. Your credit's always good with us.”

“Then fill her up and check under the hood while you're at it.”

The boom operator used a pistol-grip handle to guide the refueling boom out to the open fuel vent on the top of the black plane's fuselage. The nozzle clicked into place and fuel flowed through the hose.

A short time later, the Cirrus's pilot said, “We're topped off, Lighthouse.”

“Roger, Slingshot.” The boom operator cut the fuel flow. Then he disengaged and retracted the boom.

“Keep the home fires burning, Lighthouse. See you on the flip side.”

“Roger, Slingshot. Stay warm.” He had heard they were headed for the Arctic.

The black manta ray dropped back, then its nose pitched up. As it passed over the tanker, its green and red strobes were extinguished and the Cirrus became part of the night.