The Final Flight by James Blatch (fastest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“No abnormalities?” Kilton asked.

Both men shook their heads.

“We’ve only got a few flights left, boss,” said Rob. “I think it would be a display of our confidence in the system.”

Kilton smiled. “Good. I agree.”

“And the station commander?” Johnson asked.

“It’s my decision, Speedy. I run TFU.”

“Very good.” Johnson grinned. He and Rob headed out.

“Boys,” Kilton said as they reached the door. “Keep your wits about you.”

The sky was blue with dusty white streams of high cirrus clouds. Millie sat on the bench in front of the TFU offices, in full flying clothing. The planned departure had been delayed because of some mysterious admin task handed to Speedy and Rob.

His mind was on tomorrow’s clandestine meeting.

He watched as a Shackleton with lethal whirring propellers taxied onto the edge of the apron. A marshaller walked toward it, chocks in hand.

The flight-line was busy. Kilton had always ensured Friday was a normal flying day at TFU.

Millie lifted his face to the warm sun and raised his life vest to generate a breeze around his face. Then closed his eyes.

He saw a vision of a young woman in blue, kneeling in an empty church. He didn’t yet know her name, but it was as if he suddenly had a friend, someone to help him. Someone on his side.

Rob and Speedy bustled out of the building, helmets in hand. Steve Bright joined them.

“Let’s go,” Rob said and Millie followed them out to the waiting jet.

“Joining us today, Brighty?” Millie said. “An almost full size Vulcan crew.”

“Yeah, I think they’re playing it safe, just for this one.”

“Really?”

“Just this one, I think.”

Minutes later, panel lights flickered on as the Vulcan woke from its slumber. A growing whine outside signalled the engine start.

They held for a while as a queue formed at the threshold. It was approaching lunchtime and Millie realised he should have brought something to eat.

Eventually the acceleration force pushed him forward in his rear-facing seat as they thundered along the runway and up into the summer sky.

Thirty minutes later, they descended to the entry gate for the low-level run west of Shrewsbury.

Rob pointed the nose at a distinctive oxbow loop on the River Severn. He levelled the Vulcan at one thousand feet.

Carefully managing the thrust and attitude, he settled them at two hundred and seventy-five knots.

“Ready.”

He could see from the modified panel to his left that Millie had activated Guiding Light some time back, as he always did, so it was just a case of Speedy connecting it to the autopilot.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation,” Speedy said over the intercom as the control column moved independently.

Rob lifted his fingers from the stick.

“All yours, Speedy.”

Rob watched as the more experienced pilot’s hands loosely covered the throttle and stick as he took control. Or what passed for control while a laser, a computer and a mechanical autopilot did the actual flying.

After thirty seconds, Speedy seemed to relax and rested his hands on his thighs.

“Shall we take her down?” Rob asked.

Speedy gave a thumbs up. Rob reached down to his left.

The aircraft descended until it plateaued at five hundred feet.

The ride was stiffer, the large jet reacting more quickly to changes in the terrain beneath. They rolled right, then gently left; nothing too dramatic, but a distinctly busier sensation. With the ground closer, everything felt faster.

Rob enjoyed the sensation, grateful for the return to proper low-level.

“Let’s take her all the way,” Rob said. A moment later, the aircraft sunk to three hundred feet above the grassy plains as they approached the first set of hills.

“Hey! Height!” Millie’s voice sounded over the intercom.

Speedy and Rob exchanged a look.

“Oh, did I forget to mention it, Millie?” Rob said. “We’re cleared back to three hundred.”

“What? No. No. That’s ridiculous. Who cleared us? No-one spoke to me.”

“We met with the boss this morning. Sorry, I should have told you.”

“The staish signed it off, Millie,” Speedy said. “We need to get back down. It’s no good loitering at one thousand feet. We need to test this thing properly.”

“What the hell? You spoke to Kilton about this, but forgot to talk to me? And no brief for the flight? We’re supposed to be a project team, for god’s sake, Rob! And I’m supposed to be project leader.”

“Sorry, it was a genuine error,” Rob lied. “But we do need to trial Guiding Light properly. We haven’t got it for much longer and we all need to have faith in the system.”

“Faith? Jesus, Rob, you were on board when it failed last time, and don’t give me that blarney about hitting the stick accidentally. Neither of us believe that.”

“That’s enough.” Speedy’s voice came over the intercom. He had his head turned, glaring back at Millie below. “We’re airborne. Save it for the ground.” He turned back to face front.

Rob concentrated on the picture in front of him; it was relatively flat for the moment and the ride was smooth, but it was about to get interesting. Should he concede and move them back to one thousand feet?

He adjusted the intercom to cut Millie and Bright out of the loop. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to spring this on him?”

“It’s done. Let’s just concentrate on the flight,” Speedy said, staring forward.

Rob opened the intercom to the rear bay again. “We’re watching everything, Millie. Worry not.”

“Rob…” Millie’s tone had changed; he spoke quietly. “I’m begging you. Now’s not the time to put your trust in this system. There’s something wrong with it.”

Rob looked across at Speedy, but Speedy shook his head.

“Sorry, Millie. I promised the boss we’d carry this one out at three hundred. Tell you what, let’s run in at three hundred for the first fifteen minutes, and we’ll go back to one thousand as the hills steepen. How about that?”

“Promise me you won’t take your eyes off the view outside? First sign of anything and you cancel?”

“Of course.”

They crossed a hatched pattern of arable fields that stretched over the Welsh border, with rising ground