Delta Green - страница 8
The MakoShark was delta-winged like the SR-71, with an elongated fuselage that appeared flattened because of the chines along the side of the narrowing forward fuselage which finally blended in with the wings.
Unlike the Blackbird, she did not have rudders. The wingtips canted upward at seventy-degree angles, leaning outward, to serve as rudders. The engine and motor nacelles were elongated rectangles with rounded edges, rather than cylindrical, and the wing appeared to pass through them. At the bottom of the wing’s leading edge, the nacelle curved upward to its opening. Jutting out of the opening was the ramjet cone which was not actually a cone, as on the SR-71s, but a very wide and flexible triangular piece.
The trailing edge of the delta wing was curved, and contained the oversized flaps, elevators, ailerons, and trim tabs. Every surface was finished in the deep midnight blue paint that made the MakoShark disappear into the night a hundred yards from an observer. In appropriate locations near control surfaces were the tiny exhaust nozzles of the thruster system. The thrusters were utilized where the atmosphere was rarefied and the craft’s attitude unaffected by the movement of control surface. The surface finish was as smooth as silk. There were no exposed rivets; every joint was bonded.
There were also no insignia or aircraft numbers identifying the craft. Brackman supposed he would get a comment from Worth or Anderson about the clandestine appearance: Spy plane.
He glanced at the congressional representatives, but despite their earlier skepticism, they now seemed enraptured. Anderson had crossed the cabin to the seat behind Brackman’s and had her nose pressed against the porthole. Brackman was reminded of kids at Christmas outside the toy store.
Thorpe gave him a grin, and Brackman returned his attention to Delta Blue.
The cockpits were located just behind the needle nose, and the tandem canopies were flush with the lines of the fuselage. The technician-accessible compartment containing the bulk of the avionics and the computers was aft of the cockpits. Behind that compartment was the payload bay, then the primary JP7 fuel tanks for the jet engines in the remainder of the tapering fuselage.
The payload bay was multipurpose. Bomb and missile rack modules, cargo modules, and up to two passenger modules could all be jacked into place. The passenger modules, used primarily with the civilian-oriented Mako, were nine feet long, containing four airline-type seats, environmental control, and a large TV screen on the forward bulkhead. Passengers didn’t care much for the windowless, plastic tubes, complaining of claustrophobia.
Though Delta Blue was currently not fitted with them, four pylons could be attached to the wings inboard of the engine nacelles. Either the short or the long pylons added to the multi-mission capability of the MakoShark. They accepted external fuel tanks, cargo pods, electronics modules, and a variety of lethal weaponry.
Brackman thought she was the most beautiful and functional craft the Air Force had ever acquired, well worth the number on its price tag.
“What do you think, Marian?” Alvin Worth asked.
“It doesn’t look like it should cost seven hundred and fifty million dollars,” she said.
Thorpe sighed audibly.
The phone in Brackman’s armrest beeped softly and he picked it up.
“Sir,” the communications specialist in the cockpit said, “you have a priority one radio call. You should probably take it up here.”
“Be right there, Sergeant,” Brackman said, then excused himself and walked forward, bending to clear the low ceiling height. He supposed McKenna wanted a private conversation. In the cockpit, he closed the door and took the headset handed to him by the specialist.
“Semaphore,” he said, giving the code name for Commander, Space Command.
“Semaphore, Delta Green One”
That was Dimatta.
“Go ahead, Green.”
“We’ve got a problem, sir.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Delta Green’s gone.”
“Gone? What the hell do you mean, gone?”
“Hijacked, I guess, General. She’s disappeared.”