Arctic Storm Rising by Dale Brown (android based ebook reader .TXT) 📕

A high-pitched whine permeated the cockpit as the bomber’s internal bay doors cycled open. Graphics showed simulated missilesand guided bombs leaving the bays and plunging toward their designated targets. When they were gone, the bay doors whinedshut again.

Satisfied, Petrov throttled back to reduce speed and keyed his mike. “Chkalov Test Center, this is Ten’ Odin, Shadow One,” he radioed. “Attack complete. Repeat, attack complete.”

“Copy that, Shadow One,” the mission controller monitoring this series of tests acknowledged. “Stand by for our evaluation.”

Data links between the bomber prototype and the test center allowed the technicians there to follow every action taken by the PAK-DA’s flight crew and its computers in real time. Right now, they were checking the evaluations made by the bomber’s target discrimination program. Had it successfully identified which targets were real and which were cleverly crafted fakes?

“Shadow One, this is Chkalov,” the controller said, sounding pleased. “We score that as a complete success. Every target selected was legitimate. And every target discarded by your computer was a decoy. There were no observed errors.”

Petrov and Bunin exchanged triumphant glances. While Russia’s stealth bomber was primarily intended as a strategic strikeplatform to hit high-value fixed sites—enemy command centers and air bases, for example—they’d just demonstrated an additionalcapability to conduct attacks on well-camouflaged tactical targets. That made the PAK-DA a match for America’s B-2s, whichhad been used for years against terrorists in Afghanistan, Libya, and Syria.

“Understood, Chkalov,” Petrov said. He glanced across the cockpit at his copilot. “What’s left on our checklist, Oleg?”

“Just one more computer test,” Bunin told him, reading a menu of action items from one of his displays. “We need to verifythe handoff between our primary and secondary computers in case of trouble.”

Petrov considered that. Because the bomber prototype relied so heavily on computers to manage its advanced fly-by-wire flightcontrols, weapons, defenses, and sensors, it was equipped with redundant backup computer systems. If its crew lost their maincomputer, either because of battle damage or some other malfunction, secondary systems were supposed to take over automatically.They’d successfully demonstrated this switching capability several times on the ground. Now it was time to make sure it workedwhen it counted, in the air.

“We’ll head back to the barn,” he decided. “And conduct that last test on our way.”

He rolled the PAK-DA into another turn, this time back around to the northwest. A new steering cue appeared. They were roughlyone hundred kilometers from the test center’s Akhtubinsk military airfield, approximately eleven minutes’ flying time at theirpresent speed.

“Standing by to shut down the primary computer,” Bunin said. His fingers were poised over a menu on his largest MFD.

“Permission granted,” Petrov replied.

Bunin tapped one of the icons on his screen and then used the virtual keyboard that appeared in response to enter a code confirminghis instruction. Tupolev’s software engineers wanted to make sure no one could shut down the aircraft’s computer systems witha simple accidental finger swipe.

Immediately, every multifunction display in the cockpit went dark.

And stayed dark. So did Petrov’s HUD.

“Der’mo,” he snarled. “Shit.” When they’d tried this out on the ground, the secondary computer had taken over so fast that all they’dnoticed was a slight flicker on the screens. “Bring the secondary computer up manually.”

“Yes, Colonel,” Bunin said. He flipped open a panel on the console set between them and pushed a system reset button. Nothinghappened. He tried again, but all the screens stayed blank.

“Go back to the primary computer,” Petrov ordered.

Bunin nodded and punched the main computer’s manual reset button. Again, there was no response.

Turbulence buffeted the bomber. Caught by a sudden gust, it banked slightly to the right. Instinctively, Petrov tried to levelout again. The stick felt dull and mushy in his hand. Like all flying wings and many other advanced military aircraft, thePAK-DA prototype was inherently unstable. It relied heavily on computerized fly-by-wire systems to make the adjustments toits elevons and rudders that were necessary to maintain controlled flight.

Well, this was bad, Petrov thought. But not necessarily lethal. After all, he’d practiced for just such an event in simulatorsmany times. Coolly, he instructed Bunin, “Switch to the backup manual flight controls.”

His copilot opened another panel on the central console and flipped a new series of switches. His eyes darted toward Petrov. “Our manual flight controls are active.”

Gingerly, and then with more force, Petrov tugged his stick to the left and pushed down hard on the rudder pedals. The aircraftresponded sluggishly, but finally it came back level. “Christ,” he muttered. “This thing handles like a drunken pig withoutthe computers.” He keyed his radio mike again. “Akhtubinsk Tower, this is Shadow One. We’ve lost both flight control computers.I am declaring a mission abort.”

“Understood, Shadow One,” the control tower replied right away. “We lost your data link at the same time. We’re clearing the field now. Emergency vehicles are on standby.”

Quickly, Petrov shifted his attention to the two Su-34 chase planes. “Opekun Odin i Dva eto Ten’ Odin. Guardian One and Two, this is Shadow One. Close on me. I’ve lost all instrumentation and I’m returning to Akhtubinsk immediately.But I’m going to need your eyes.”

Unable to hide their concern, both chase plane pilots acknowledged. The twin-tailed aircraft rolled in to within fifty meters,one on the bomber’s left side and one on its right. Their red, green, and white position lights glowed brightly in the darkness.

“Give me a reading on my airspeed, altitude, and heading,” Petrov said calmly.

“Shadow One, your airspeed is five hundred kph. Altitude thirty-eight hundred meters. Your heading is now three-two-one degrees,”one of the Su-34 pilots reported.

“Understood,” Petrov replied. “What’s my most direct heading back to the airfield?” That earlier, inadvertent roll to theright had thrown them a little off course. And with the computers down, so was their digitized navigation system.

“Come left to three-one-four degrees.”

Sweating under his helmet, Petrov muscled the stick and rudder pedals to raise control surfaces on the trailing edge of the bomber’s right wing, while simultaneously lowering rudders and elevons along its left wing. Slowly, the big plane banked