Skyhook

FIVE TUESDAY, DAY 2 UNIWAVE FIELD OFFICES ELMENDORF AFB, ALASKA

Major General Mac MacAdams had listened for twenty minutes to an unctuous presentation by Joe Davis on why the central feature of Project Skyhook, the so-called “Boomerang Box,” was ready for Air Force acceptance.

“Joe, let’s cut to the heart of the matter here, okay?” Mac interrupted.

“Certainly, General.”

“You and your folks do a great production number, you know. Great graphics, video, sound, and fury. All that’s missing is a soft-shoe routine with top hats, and, of course, a truly functional system I can approve.”

“Sir?” Davis looked alarmed, and Mac smiled at his discomfort and sat forward.

“Joe, for God’s sake, don’t you think I’ve been around this business awhile?”

Davis sat back in his swivel chair on the other side of the boardroom, his feigned confidence rapidly leaking away.

“Well, of course I know you’re a very experienced guy…”

“Joe, look at me. Cut the bullshit, okay? When I made brigadier general and a four-star pinned on my star, he shook my hand and said, ‘Congratulations, General MacAdams, no one will ever tell you the truth again.’ I’ve always been determined not to accept that tendency on the part of subordinates, and I’m sure as hell not going to accept it from a contractor I need to be able to trust, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe Davis replied, his face a fine shade of gray.

“Something happened last night that threatens this entire project, and you’re not going to happy talk your way out of it. You know it. I know it. Your guys on the Gulfstream know it, and in fact I imagine they’re working themselves into a frenzy right now trying to solve the problem. Right?”

“Well, yes, they’re working on it.”

“We nearly lost those boys last night, Joe. If nothing else had worked and that Gulfstream had slammed into a supertanker, we’d be facing another version of the Exxon Valdez.” He decided to bypass the fact that two sidewinder missiles had been seconds away from launch on his command. “If that had happened, Skyhook and Uniwave would be history, and my career would be history, just to name the threshold victims.”

Joe Davis took a deep breath and nodded. “I know that, Mac. I was really scared when they couldn’t disconnect, but it was…”

“And I hear you about the bad circuit board. That was the initial problem. You’ve made that point. And I know your guys are out there at the Gulfstream right now on the ramp trying to add a second disconnect circuit in case something strange happens again tonight. But, Joe, there are no emergency disconnects in the Boomerang design. This little box is supposed to bring back a B-52 or even a B-2 if the pilots on board can’t, or won’t, do it themselves. We don’t want a way for anyone on board to disconnect. That’s part of the main safety logic, in case someone ever goes nuts up there. You know the reasons for this black project, for God’s sake.”

“Of course I do.”

“We’re not installing an emergency disconnect on the actual deployed system, and if we need one to buttress the test, then the test fails.”

“But, Mac, it’s a safety issue.”

“Absolutely. No, go ahead and install it tonight, but understand that if you use it, the test is over.”

Davis was trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking slightly and his voice had become raspy with stress. The two other Uniwave project employees in the room were sitting in shocked silence, and trying to look invisible.

Mac MacAdams thrust himself out of the chair and turned to the far end of the carpeted, secure meeting room, his lean, uniformed, six-foot frame towering over the much shorter Davis.

There were framed pictures on the walls, Mac noted. He’d never really noticed them before, but they were the type of evocative aviation images that stirred the heart of a pilot on a primal level. Mac let his eyes rest on one for a few moments, following the amazing vortex of disturbed water trailing a low-flying B-1 in terrain-following mode buzzing a lake, an image painted so realistically it looked like a photo.

“Joe,” he began, still facing the wall before turning back to the project director. “Here’s the deal. You either lay all the company’s cards on the table right here, right now, or I’ll almost guarantee you non-acceptance. Understood?”

Davis’s hands were out in a beseeching gesture. “Mac, please! I’m trying to level with you.”

“Really? Then explain to me where in that presentation anything was mentioned about the possibility of a logic glitch in the program? Why’d the system drive that Gulfstream down to precisely fifty feet and hold it there, Joe? You think I’m an idiot? That’s not hardware, that’s software, and we’re not going to waste each other’s time explaining why we both know that. Look, I’m not unsympathetic to your position. I’m interested in keeping our major defense contractors healthy, and I’m certainly aware that you’re hanging by a thread as a company with this project. But what happened last night is not as simple as you’re trying to make it. So, either I get answers by six P.M. this evening, or the acceptance test is off until next Monday at the earliest, and you’re into contract penalty territory.”

“Six?” Joe Davis looked as if he’d just been handed a death sentence.

“I’ll see you back here, in this room, at six sharp. And, Joe, have Dr. Cole in here as well as the two Gulfstream pilots.”

“Dr. Cole isn’t going to fly tonight’s test.”

“Why not?”

“Ah… scheduling conflict, I think.”

MacAdams straightened and pointed toward the table. “Have him in here, Joe. That’s not an option.” He turned and swept out of the room before Davis could reply.

Ben Cole slowed his pace along the jogging path overlooking Runway 05 and cocked his ear, trying to identify the extra sound rising above the roar of a departing F-15. As the waves of noise from the powerful engines subsided, an electronic warble pulsed into prominence and he stopped to dig out his cell phone and check his message.

“Don’t bother,” a female voice said from a few yards behind. Ben turned, startled to see Lindsey White, his immediate supervisor under Joe Davis, approaching down the path. “The message is from me asking where I could find you.”

“Lindsey! I guess you can find me here.” He glanced at the very same words on the screen and put the phone away, aware that the grey and white fur parka she was wearing had nothing to do with exercising. “I take it you’re not joining me for a run.”

She smiled and shook her head as she came up beside him and tossed back her shoulder-length hair. “My policy is to run only when being chased.”

He smiled briefly and motioned toward the north. “Can we walk?”

“Sure.”

They began moving down the north path in silence before Lindsey spoke.

“You weren’t planning on obeying orders and staying home tonight, were you?”

He glanced over at her, but she was watching the path. “No. I know the system better than anyone, and… it’s my responsibility.”

“But, you’re nervous?”

He looked at her again, this time waiting until she met his gaze.

“Lindsey, I’m terrified.”

“We shouldn’t be talking out here in the open about a black project, so minimize your lip movements and keep your voice very low,” she said, brushing lightly against his side. “You know they’re installing a second emergency disconnect switch?”

“Yes, which is still dependent on the computer. It’ll only work if…” His voice trailed off.

“If what?” she prompted.

He leaned toward her slightly as they walked, wondering if there really was surveillance equipment sophisticated enough to intercept words spoken softly through stiff lips. “Lindsey, I’ve tried to tell everyone that whatever went wrong last night is more than a bad circuit board. It’s somewhere in the software code, and if it happens again, remember that we’ve given this system a whole bunch of pathways to choose in taking over complete control of the airplane.”

“Ben, wait,” she said suddenly as she stopped him. “I’m not making a pass at you or issuing some sexual invitation, okay?”

“What?” he said, his voice sounding like a stammer.

She moved against him. “We’ve got to be very careful not to be caught talking in the open about this, so… this is merely a method of looking somewhat innocuous while whispering.”

“What is?”

“Here,” she said, taking his arm and pulling it to her waist. “Put your arm around me. Hold me close like we’re two lovers walking along, and we’ll alternately whisper in each other’s ears.”

“Oh. Okay.” He complied, sheepishly at first, relishing the feel of her through the wolf-fur coat and forcing himself back to the subject. “As I was saying, Lindsey, what this system is all about is taking over complete control of the jet. So, until I’ve found the problem, we can’t test it without running a huge risk. I left the team back there crunching numbers, but I had to get out here to think.”

“I didn’t track you down to scold you, Ben,” she whispered, “but we’ve got a corporate mandate, and you’re already planning to violate Martin’s direct order. I figured that out when I couldn’t find anyone preparing to fly tonight in your place.”

He was shaking his head, then remembered to lean toward her ear. “I can’t let anyone fly in my place, Lindsey. If anything happened, I could never live with someone who’s taking my place getting hurt just because Martin doesn’t understand.”

She stopped and caught his shoulder, turning him toward her and studying his face. “My God, Ben. You really expect to die tonight, don’t you?”

He turned away, but her grip was firm, and he finally met her eyes once more. “I… think there’s a good chance.”

“Look, if you’re really that worried—”

“Lindsey, you ever have that dream where you’re running from the monster but you can’t seem to move?”

She nodded.

“Okay. This morning, Lindsey, with Martin telling me we’ve got to do it, regardless, and Joe scared to death of General MacAdams, I mean… it was obvious that no one was listening.”

“I am, Ben.”

“But, can you stop this?”

She pulled back and looked him in the eye again. “Convince me.”

“Sorry?”

“Here. Sit.” There was a wooden bench adjacent to the path and she guided him to it and sat backward, beside him, her left arm snaking around his chest, his left arm kept discreetly in his lap. He felt a jumble of conflicting instincts as she leaned her head to his shoulder, almost cheek to cheek, and chuckled. “We may start some serious boy-girl rumors around here, but you’ve got my undivided, nonjudgmental attention. Now, convince me.”

On the adjacent runway and just out of view behind a row of trees, an Air Force C-141B pilot had run his engines to takeoff power and was beginning his takeoff roll, the rumble washing over them as Ben waited, enjoying her nearness.

“In a nutshell,” he said at last, “the computer program leveled us at fifty feet because that corresponds to the difference between the actual and the standard barometric setting. In other words, if the altimeter setting had been precisely twenty-nine, ninety-two inches of mercury, we would have hit the water.”

“So, you’ve found the glitch?”

“No. I just understand what the program’s goal was. I don’t know what part of the program came to that conclusion or how it set that goal, and that’s where the danger lurks. The second the system was engaged, it began descending us. It wasn’t a dive, Lindsey, it was a controlled descent, which means the program logic planned it. But how in the hell? I wrote that program, and there’s nothing in it that would give it the power or the basis to make such a decision.”

“But, the program can descend an airplane for landing.”

“No, the program is supposed to keep the airplane safe while a live pilot using the remote cockpit makes all the decisions on altitude, airspeed, configuration, and everything else. This… this thing was thinking for itself! Now, how the hell can I find and cure that if I don’t have a clue what I’m looking for?”

Lindsey fell silent for a few seconds.

“Ben, you’re not telling me this program has written its own fuzzy logic, are you? You’re not saying it’s making decisions on its own?”

He shook his head and glanced up for a second before answering, tracking the progress of a golden eagle soaring effortlessly in the crisp air overhead. She heard a tired sigh in her ear. “I don’t know what to think. Maybe… just maybe there’s a garbled line of code in there that made it behave like it was coming up with its own solution, but I just don’t know.”

“We have four days to the deadline,” she replied. “And the general has forced a meeting tonight at six where he’ll be demanding a full explanation. If we slip the schedule for twenty-four hours, will it make a difference?”

He snorted and began to chuckle.

“What?” she probed, partially turning toward him, a move that nuzzled his neck and sent a small chill of pleasure up his back. Lindsey smiled involuntarily at the smell of his cologne in her nostrils. “Tell me.”

“Well,” he said, “it’s like a warden asking the condemned if he’d like an extra day to give the governor more time to call. Yeah, an extra day would give me more of a chance to find a solution.”

“Is there anything else we can do to make sure the unit can’t crash the test plane?”

He nodded, partially turning toward her. “Yeah, but MacAdams will never approve it, and it would take some fancy jury-rigging of hardware.”

“Meaning?”

“An emergency disconnect T-handle to physically pull the computer-controlled servos off the control cables. Otherwise, we’re still at the mercy of the program.”

Lindsey patted his shoulder before disengaging. She stood, then leaned back down, her lips to his ear. “Okay, Ben. Joe may fire me for this, but we’re going to get you that extra day, and we’re going to install that emergency T-handle before we fly.”

“And if Martin says no?”

“We’ll do it anyway. If you’re too worried to fly, I’m too worried to let you.”

He turned his head a bit too quickly, and his nose brushed hers. The tantalizing proximity caused him to look into her eyes for a second, wondering how she’d respond if he kissed her.

But she was already pulling away, smiling as she did so.