Fly Into Black
by Michael G. Crawford
Chapter One
High above the scrub covered Nevada hills, Lt. Col. Deruse Deboune rolled his plane sharply to the right in a two-G fighter break. The maneuver was so violent, that the air flowing over the wings was torn into streams of water vapor, which appeared like smoke flowing back in the slipstream. Even the canted twin vertical stabilizers were not immune to the streaks of vapor. The effect was that of four small tendrils of white tracking the jet as it completed the roll. The orange and blue thrusts of the afterburners puncuated the normal wail of the jet engines, as Deruse pushed the fighter for an all out ballistic climb out of the valley. As the plane moved through MACH 1.5, Deruse felt again the strange vibration which had plagued the designers for the last three months.
Below him, the Nellis AFB air traffic controller winced as the double sonic boom rippled across the valley floor.
"Telarc 7, Nellis Control."
"Go Control" answered Deruse.
"Telarc 7, say heading."
Deruse toyed with the idea of replying with "straight up" as he had seen in a Air Force Magazine the other day. But he decided the ATC might not find it too funny.
"Telarc Seven is outbound radial 230, seven...no eight miles out."
"Copy, Seven. Contact Test Control on 235.30."
"Roger Control, Test Control on 235.30" confirmed Deruse as he watched the small number in the face of the altimeter change into a 4. In ten seconds he had gone from 400 feet off the deck, to 40,000 feet.
Reaching over, he thumbed the frequency switches to the right frequency and then pressed the mic switch on the stick.
"Test Control, Telarc Seven on frequency at 40,000 feet, about 10 minutes from the range."
"Copy Seven. Call when ready for your baseline runs."
"Roger, Seven."
"DD, CTG" came another voice, and Deruse grinned at the predictability of the Commander, Test Group.
"Go."
"Take it easy on the runup, DD. Until we figure out what causes the vibration, I want you to stay under Mach 3."
Glancing down at his Mach guage, DD smiled to himself. It indicated around Mach 2.8 now, and was still inching upward.
"Copy. You want that I should slow down below Mach 3, did I read correct." He so loved pulling the old man's leg. The silence that followed either meant the old man was silently smoking out the ears, or the crew was laughing so loud with him that he hadn't had a chance to reply yet.
"Uhh Telarc Seven, Capt. Williams reports that your bag is indicating it is approaching the full mark, Sir" chimed in the voice of the young airman manning the Test Control radio.
"So I'm full of shit" he said to himself. He laughed now, and inched forward on the stick, dropping the nose a little to level off at 60,000 feet. He quickly reached over to throttle back, the G-meter indicating a minus .8 G.
"Tell Capt. Williams that I understand. Incidentally Control, I experienced the vibration in a three G roll to the right at Mach 1.5. It lasted for about a half-second, then slowly wound down in harmonics. I swear it was an engine vibration."
"Roger, Sir, copied that. T.O.'s opinion is that the engines do not vibrate below Mach 2."
"Right" he replied with just enough sarcasm in his voice.
Shaking his head, DD once again went through the Test Pilot Ritual or TPR. He read out each display into the cockpit recorder, even though he knew there was complete telemetry to the ground. This was an old precaution stemming from the early flight test days. It remained in force today because of the possibility of losing the telemetry link during a critical point in time.
"Ok, Control. Seven is ready for baseline Mach 2.5 run at flight level six zero."
"Roger Seven, recorders are running. Begin your profile."
"Beginning Profile" he replied as he inched the throttle forward. With an audible whine the engines wound up a few thousadn RPMs and the Mach needle nosed toward Mach 2.5.
"Mach 2.5...Mark" said the Test Officer as he watched the telemetry read out.
"Confirm" replied DD, waiting in vain for the vibration to repeat itself.
"Okay, Seven, hold that for two minutes."
DD started his navigation timer, and replied with another TPR, noting the Mach gauge twice just to be sure. He also repeated the skin temperature and relative dynamic pressure readings on the engines, just in case his theory was right.
In two minutes, he knew, he would be out over the major part of the range, spitting along at just under 31 miles a minute. Even at this speed, he would not go outside the Air Force's Nevada 100 mile radius test area around Nellis.
As the two minute mark rolled up on the timer, he called in, "Control, Seven. Starting 1 G bank to left" and as gently as possible, he began a wide turn to the left. This turn would take him 16 miles further West, and 16 miles further North before he completed half of the maneuver.
"Seven, T.O. Engine data suggests slightly high intake pressure. Reccomend closing off another notch."
"Roger" he replied as he made the correction into the onboard computer. This type of operation would not be possible on the production aircraft, but for flight test, Northrup had added a small keyboard for in-flight modification to the system. Later these changes would be incorporated into the firmware, and the engines would tune themselves in flight.
For now, though, he was manually adjusting the engines. As part of his next pre-flight, the Northrup people would probably have the mod in the software which was uploaded from the master computer at the test center.
"Seven, T.O. Looks good DD. Ready for Mach 3 run when ever you are."
"Roger. Seven to Mach 3" he confirmed as he moved the throttle forward again, now cutting in the afterburner. Without feeling the telltale vibration, he could not tell he was moving any faster. There was only the increased whine of the engine which was transmitted by the acoustics of the carbon composites of the airframe. The actual sound of the engines roar was masked well behind him as the jet flew faster than sound.
"Mach 3...Mark."
"Confirm" he replied once again. Still no vibration.
"Hold for two minutes Seven."
Now he would be flying almost 38 miles every minute, so his two minute pass would take him 76 miles across the test range. The sonic booms would be making everyone at Nellis look up into the sky out of reflex. They would see his four contrails as one white wisp, but not one of the folks on the ground would be able to pick out his plane.
In fact, not even the sophisticated radar and fighter tracking systems used for the Red Flag exercises would be able to detect him. The stealth fighter was invisible to conventional search radar unless an actual fix were made by some other means.
"Okay Seven, throttle back and apply air brakes for your turn back" came the T.O.'s voice again, as he slewwed into another wide turn. Now would come the scary part. Not since Edwards, had the plane been through such severe G stressing. It had been brought here for tactical fighter tests, but he had screwed up and crossed the speed limit accidentally. Now, despite the ban on greater than Mach 2.5, he was going to make the pass ending with a hard 3 G bank, so they could capture the vibration. Then they would be sending the plane back to Edwards for a more thorough shakedown.
"Control, Seven. Test one begins. Accelerating to Mach 2.3".
He moved the throttle slowly forward again, this time pulling back a fraction of an inch as the Mach meter edged to 2.5.
"Control, Seven. Maneuver begins...Mark" and he jammed the stick to right in a slight diving roll to the right. Stopping the roll after the jet had completed a complete rotation, he waited for the confirmation from the ground on a lack of vibration.
"We see no vibration, Seven. Continue Test."
"Roger, still no vibration. Seven to Test Two...Mark" and he now pulled the nose up before executing the roll, and sure enough, the vibration rolled through the aircraft.
"Seven, T.O. Roger your vibration. Telemetry shows a sudden jump in intake pressure again as the roll begins. Reccomend re-running Test Two, and dialing back yet again on the closure rate just before execution."
"Roger. Standby." He dialed in the proper code sequence to accomplish the additional fine tuning, and then stopped the code modification just at the last keystroke.
"Okay, Control. Seven on Test Two again...Mark" and he punched in the last keystroke with his left hand, and he jammed the stick to the right again. The vibration started to roll in, then quit almost immediately. Unfortunately, the master caution light came on and half the cockpit enunciators lit up.
"Ok Control, I have flameout on both engines" he said, amazingly without screaming as the bottom fell out of his stomach. The jet pitched over into horrifing high G spin at the ground. He calmly forced the stick back to center, and locked his eyes on the instruments in the cockpit rather than looking at the gyrating horizon.
"Seven, Control. Do not initiate re-start yet. Press master reset on the on-board, say again, press master reset. Copy?"
But DD was too busy to reply. Fighting the G forces which tossed him about in his seat, he could barely keep the aircraft under what little control he still had. Finally though, he stopped the longitudinal motion, leaving him with a fairly straight forward diving aerilon roll. There was still some breath-taking yaw motion, but he figured he could work that out later.
With the G-forces reduced, he could then force his hand up to the keyboard which used to hang on the console. It had been "fastened" with velcro, but in the wildly spinning aircraft it was now hanging down toward his feet.
"Tell Buddy that velcro sucks" was all he could manage to get out, as he fought to reach the little key panel.
Finally he managed to pin it against the lower edge of the console.
"Damn" he said outloud, as he realized it was upside down, the keys being randomly pressed as he fumbled with it. Then it occured to him that the edge of the console could serve him well. He twisted his hand around and, as carefully as he could in the still spinning aircraft, made an attempt to contact the reset button with the console. After the third try, he heard the little "beep" as the computer acknowledged his override.
"All right!" he said, thumbing the mic button.
He pulled the throttle back to air-start position, watched as the RPM dials for both engines slowed for a moment, then jump as they began to receive the timed bursts of fuel.
"Ok Control, she is proceeding through restart sequence" and in a few seconds he saw the outlet temperature jump as the engines ignited.
"And I have re-start."
Now he slowly levered the throttle forward, being careful not to quench the fragile balance between air and fuel in the relatively cool engine. As he saw the RPMs climb, he could feel the sudden pressure at his back. The eerie feeling caused by the spinning motion, was now replaced with the frightening downward motion. He looked up at the altimeter and choked.
"SHIT!" he resisted the urge to yank back on the column as the needle zipped through 10,000 feet. At Mach 2, he was in for a 9 or 10 G pullout with his current attitude. If he had yanked on the stick, he would have simply blacked out, never to recover. Watching out the Heads Up Display, he prayed for the horizon to come back into sight.
"Seven, prepare to eject" said the calm voice of the Test Officer, Buddy Williams.
"Negative, Control. Seven is in recovery" he said hoarsely through the agony of the G suit.
"I repeat. Get ready to eject, DD" ordered his friend.
"No way. I've got it" he replied again. And as he said it he prayed until he saw the altimeter begin to slow its counter clockwise motion. It now was slowly winding past 6,000 feet. He had another 3000 to go before he would hit the ground.
Gratefully, as the altimeter clocked through 5,000 feet, the horizon popped up into his rapidly tunneling vision. Easing forward on the stick a little, he waited a few seconds for his eyesight to return, and with a groan, he also felt the G-suit loosen up. Easing out at Mach 3.3, he was screaming along the desert at a bare 1000 feet, well below the Nellis Hard-tac. Typically 3000 feet, Hard-tac was the required minimum tactical engagement altitude used by his buddies over in Red Flag territory. This safety precaution saved them from "playing" right into the ground.
At 45, DD would probably take 3 days to recover from this little maneuver, but first he had to coax the slippery beast back to the ground.
He now shoved the throttle forward, the lever making a loud snap as it hit against the stop. Moving it to the right and forward, he added in the afterburners. With a whine, the engines roared up into full power and his vision blurred again, little speckles of light dancing around in his vision, and he knew he was "hit". His eyes would be red for a week. He watched the G meter vibrate up to several 8 G peaks as he fought to balance pullup with G force. He pulled back on the throttle, and pushed the stick forward to return the horizon to his view just above the console. Climbing at 500 knots, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Okay, Control. Returning to base."
"Good job, DD. See ya' at home" came the relieved voice of the Test Officer.
As he flared out for the landing, he could see the blue sedan parked on the taxi way. Buddy was probably worried about him. Up ahead he could see the ambulance jumping into motion behind the crash crew vehicles. Not that he needed either. But he guessed it was a sensible precaution. He let the ground effect take over, then brought the nose down just after the main gear touched down.
Now he would have to sit through the de- briefing. God how he hated to see the bird go now. He had flown it in its worst moments. He had lived. Alot of test pilots had not been so lucky. He had a knew respect for the plane now. It was truly a hot fighter plane. So hot, in fact, that it had taken him and his G-suit beyond their limits. They had mastered the technology so well, that even with today's G-suits, they still needed away to keep the pilots conscious enough to fly the damn things. He knew that was the key to the knew technology.
As he taxied to his landing spot in the low slung hanger, he felt a little deja vu, remembering back to the hangers at Beale.