John Ormack thought about the idea for several long moments. He knew McLanahan was nothing if not a walking idea machine, but he never expected him to devise two such radical ideas in so short a time. It was an interesting combination: Super Cockpit was a 1980s technology demonstration program that had never been implemented in any tactical aircraft, and PACER SKY was a brand-new idea that was just now being operationally tested.
Ormack knew Sky Masters’ NIRTSats could make combined synthetic radar, infrared, and visual photographs of a geographic area in one pass, uplink it to a satellite, then download it. But uplinking it to a TDRS satellite (Tactical Information Distribution System used by the Army and Air Force) then downloading it to a targeting computer on a strike aircraft was brilliant. The computer would be able to classify each return with known or suspected targets, measure the precise target coordinates, and load them into the crew’s bombing computers. The crews could then call up each target, evaluate the information and direct a strike against the targets in virtually real-time.
It would be the first time crews would have access to virtual real-time imagery during a conflict.
Leave it to McLanahan, Ormack thought proudly.
“Jesus, Patrick,” Ormack said, “you’ve already come up with six months’ worth of work and you haven’t been in the seat five minutes — and you’ve probably busted the bank as well.”
“Well, we can eliminate a lot of this stuff, then,” McLanahan said, gesturing to a small shelf under the glare shield. “We can ditch this attempt at a work desk — with the Super Cockpit installed, we won’t need charts and books out cluttering the cockpit — but we’ll need coffee-cup holders, of course…”
“Coffee-cup holders!” Ormack cried. McLanahan’s extraordinary capacity for coffee was well known throughout Dreamland. “On a B-2? Get outta here!”
“You think I’m kidding, sir?” McLanahan replied. “I’ll bet you lunch for a week that there’s not only coffee-cup holders for the pilot over there, but a pencil-holder and maybe even an approach-plate holder. How about it?”
“You’re on, buddy,” Ormack said. “Coffee-cup holders on multimillion-dollar warplanes went out with ldiaki uniforms and nose art. Besides, everything on this plane is computerized — why would the pilots need pencils and approach plates when everything’s on the multi-function displays in living color?”
Ormack searched the aircraft commander’s station for a moment as McLanahan confidently sat back in his seat and waited. A few moments later he heard a muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned…”
“Find something, General?”
“I don’t believe it!” Ormack shouted. “Chart holders, pencil holders, coffee-cup holders — no ashtray, hotshot… unbelievable.”
“Let me guess,” McLanahan teased, “there’s a space up there for an inflight lunch box?”
“Box lunches and even a stopwatch holder. I just don’t believe it. There are twenty systems on this plane that’ll give you a countdown. The plane practically flies itself, for God’s sake! If you want, a female electronic voice’ll even give you a countdown over interphone. But they went ahead and put in a black rubber stopwatch holder anyway.”
“The Air Force probably paid a thousand dollars for it, too,” McLanahan added dryly. “The more things change, the more they stay the same. We’ll have developed a hypersonic bomber that can circumnavigate the globe in one hour, and someone’ll still put a stopwatch holder in the cockpit.”
Ormack tried to ignore McLanahan’s smug smile. “Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you over here, that’s for sure, but you’ve made a terrific start. When can you get to work?”
“Right away, General,” McLanahan replied. “The F-15F Cheetah project is off the flight line for a few months, so this’ll work out perfectly. I’ve got a staff meeting with J. C. Powell and McDonnell-Douglas in about an hour, and I’ll clear the desk and schedule an afternoon staff meeting on this project. We’ll be back out here taking measurements” — he paused, then gave Ormack a sly smile — “right after we get back from lunch. Your treat, I believe?”
“Good morning, sir,” Navy Captain Rebecca Rodgers, senior staff officer, Pacific, of J-2, the Joint Chiefs of Staff Intelligence Directorate, began. “Captain Rodgers with this morning’s intelligence report. The briefing is classified top secret, sensitive sources and methods involved, not releasable to foreign nationals; the room is secure.” She paused to double-check that the thick mahogany double doors to the Pentagon’s Joint Chiefs of Staff Conference Center, referred to as the “Tank” or the “Gold Room,” were closed and locked and that the red “Top Secret” lights were on. Rebecca “Becky” Rodgers could feel the tension of the men and women in the Tank that morning, and her news was not going to help to cheer them up one bit.
