Chapter 17

Frenchy’s ‘talk’ lasted about fifteen minutes.

A chastened Lina headed back for the break room while Chuck remained. “I’ll watch myself,” he said. “I know Lina is likely to be changed in some way by what happened to her so there’s a risk, but I can’t simply reject her. I’ll be careful.”

“She’s a grownup, so that’s all I can ask.”

“Like I said, Frenchy, I’ll be careful. On a different topic, I’ve got a suggestion; we might be able to divert attention from what we’re really doing if we made a production of shutting down the old warehouse and putting up a For Sale sign.”

“Keep talking,” Frenchy said.

“How about this? We get a locksmith to change all the locks, then shut off all the lights except one. Put a guard on the warehouse at night, maybe only for a week or two, then just lock the doors and the gates. Leave everything locked down, so that it looks like we’ve given up and if anyone is still watching the building, they’re welcome to break in. There’s nothing for them to steal, but they’ll know we’ve moved out. The only thing we’ve got left there is the forklift, so we bring it with us and either return it to the company we leased it from or buy it. We already know we’re going to need a forklift to move stuff around.”

“A diversion? I don’t know whether the opposition will buy it, but I suppose it can’t hurt. Okay, I’ll see that it’s done. Anything else?”

“We’ll be flying the King by this weekend, so you might want to come out for that. The ride will be more comfortable because we’ve got permanent seats in the back now and a wider windscreen. It’s not a complete canopy, but even so, it should be a comfortable ride. Want to go for a ride? Maybe even learn to pilot it?”

“I like the idea,” Frenchy admitted, “but I don’t have the time. I’m really busy with negotiations! We’re working out the details of property easements for the high-voltage line and how much I’m prepared to contribute, directly or indirectly, to political parties. I won’t do it myself, but I’ll see that it happens. I’ve got lawyers handling the low-level meetings, but the big guys want to talk directly to me. This is all word of mouth, no paperwork, so trust is important.”

“Trust from crooks. That’s what this really is, you know, paying bribes to crooks.”

“Shhh, don’t use the B-word! Those are campaign contributions, given in good faith!”

“Yeah, right. Investments is what they are, and they’re probably deductible too.”

“Sure. I’ll probably set up a foundation, Will and the others will too. None of us will turn down an opportunity to reduce our tax bite. In a sense, the government will be contributing about a third of what the politicians get.” Frenchy shrugged. “It’s just the way things are done now.”

“I suppose. Anyway, I’m going to bed. I’ve been up about sixteen hours and I’ve got to get up again in about six. Mel can do some of the wiring up, all that’s left, but I will do the final checks of the King myself.

“I’ll also be writing the manual for this one, working up altitude limits and power consumption times based on loads and weather. The batteries work better in warmer weather and wind is a major factor, so that has to be included too. The King isn’t aerodynamic at all.”

“I can see that. Will and I were talking and he mentioned an old saying among pilots. ‘Given enough power, even a brick will fly.’”

“Makes sense. Anyway, I’ll see you next time. I’m going to try to finish up work on the King so I can take a few days for the Tesla’s shakedown cruise.”

Frenchy nodded. “If I don’t get back here before, I’ll see you when we sail. You’ve done a good job with the improved Bedstead and the King.”

“Thanks.” Chuck reached out and the two shook hands, then Frenchy turned and left.

Three days later, Lina and Chuck finished the wiring and setup on the King, then installed two freshly-charged battery packs in the aft compartments. The King could use up to four packs for longer flights, but for the initial tests two would be plenty and this reserved the other battery packs for the Twin Otter when it arrived.

Chuck’s schedule was also tight; he had time to run the initial tests on the King, but he’d need to hustle to make his flight if he wanted to be present for the Tesla’s shakedown voyage.

The Bedstead had never been flown at high altitudes and the King would observe the same limit, meaning that even a single battery pack with 10% remaining charge provided enough power to land the craft. The battery compartments were connected in parallel to a main power buss, which meant that regardless of the number of battery packs voltage remained the same. Each battery pack added about half an hour’s flight time to the King’s endurance if loaded to maximum gross weight, meaning that the craft could haul passengers or cargo for about two hours before the batteries would need recharging.

Mel made himself scarce during Chuck’s tests, gathering additional data while flying the Bedstead around the course that Chuck had laid out. The King was a truck, designed for commercial use, but the recently-redesigned Bedstead was more akin to a sports car.

Lina and Chuck appreciated the opportunity to be alone, but limited their contact to hugs and occasional kisses. Mel, being considerate, called the hangar ten minutes before he brought the Bedstead home after each flight. So went the remainder of the week, and by Friday the King was ready for its first test.

Chuck intended to hover at low altitude, no more than a foot off the hangar floor, for the first half hour, then try a sequence of simple maneuvers. Moving forward, backing, turning, and drifting broadside to port and starboard would show that the control system was working as expected. The batteries would have enough residual charge remaining after the tests to park the King.

Mel had made an additional modification to both craft. Thick straps now ran on each side of the pilot’s station, terminating in a large canvas bundle behind the passenger seats.

“What’s this, Mel? Is this something you came up with on your own?”

“Not exactly, Chuck. The Bedstead gets one cargo parachute, the King gets three. I talked to Morty about something that had been bothering me; we’re going to be running new kinds of flight tests, and that’s going to include high altitude and maneuvering tests. Anyway, he had the parachutes shipped in so I installed them.” Mel climbed up on the Bedstead and pointed out the features. “The chutes are attached to a four-point suspension system, two links in the front and two at the rear. They’re adjusted so that the craft sinks rear first at a thirty-degree angle. This is something like what astronauts did, land backward, but for us if the chutes are ever deployed, the crew has a chance to walk away from it since it will be descending rear first. The adapted pilot seats provide excellent back support. The ripcord runs under the seat and the handle is clipped here, between the pilot’s legs. Do not pull that D-handle unless you intend to come down by chute.”

“How high are you planning to go, Mel?”

“Eventually, three or four thousand feet, Chuck. That’s high enough to do some roll tests and recover from them. I’ll take it in stages and only roll about ten or fifteen degrees to start. I’ll also try it at low altitude first, see if the impellers will tumble inside the containers, and if they do find out how long it takes for the electronics to reset.

“If the gyros tumble and we can’t reset them in time, having the parachute means I can likely avoid serious injury. I hope. Anyway, the way I’ve got it planned out, if there’s going to be a problem it should happen before I gain much altitude.”

“Okay, I can understand that,” Chuck agreed. But you be damned careful! We need old, not bold, pilots! These things are perfect illustrations of that old pilot’s saying about enough power and flying bricks, given enough power even a brick will fly. We haven’t needed to worry much, because up to now, we’ve remained low and relatively slow, but as soon as you reach 100 meters, everything changes. And remember, that’s too low for the parachutes to deploy before you kiss the ground!”

“I’ll have to push the envelope during the tests, Chuck, which means I have to accept the risks. As for the chutes, Morty and I both feel better about me having a means of survival. I don’t see us needing ejection seats, not yet, but an individual parachute for the pilot might someday be part of his flight equipment. I’ll also install a passive instrument package to measure the impact force, just in case I’m ever forced to deploy the chute.”

“You’re not going to test it before you need it?”

“Nope, it’s a one-time thing. A parachute is a parachute. If it doesn’t work, well, the pilot won’t be any worse off, but we’ve got more than a thousand hours on the latest-model Bedstead and so far it’s as reliable as any helicopter.”

The King sat quietly, a huge beast that bore no relationship to anything intended for flight. For that matter, neither had the original Bedstead or the heavily-modified replacement, but those now had hundreds of hours of flight time.

Mel waited with Lina as Chuck strapped himself into the pilot’s seat.

He glanced at the charge indicator, centered in the console to his front, then flipped the switch for the main power buss. Twisting the motorcycle-style throttle on the stick ... the thumbwheel was gone, the twist throttle replacing it..., he listened to the faint whines as the impellers powered up. Pressing a button, he watched the dials as the computer made microscopic adjustments to each impeller.

Frowning, Chuck noticed that the portside forward impeller was drawing ten percent more power than the others. Something not right about that, he thought, but since he was only going for a low-level hover ... It was something to look at later, he decided. He wasn’t going anywhere, just bringing the craft to a hover and holding it a foot in the air. This test would last half an hour, then he’d try out the directional controls before landing, Make sure we replace that questionable impeller before the next flight!

Nodding to the others, Chuck eased back on the floor-mounted joystick. The long joystick allowed very sensitive adjustments to the computer’s input, something that had proved considerably more difficult when using the Bedstead’s short game-style controller.

Impellers whined as he eased back on the stick. The King wasn’t as responsive as the Bedstead, but he could feel the added power as the bigger unit trembled. He glanced to port and starboard, bringing the deck level with marks on a pair of vertical stands; the simple devices provided an instant reference for the hover test. Chuck centered the control stick and watched the instruments. Satisfied, he took his eyes off the panel and glanced at Lina. “Look ma, no hands!” Chuck gleefully exclaimed.

Lina glanced at Mel and both shook their heads ruefully. “Kind of full of himself, isn’t he?” said Mel.

“He’s a showoff, that’s for sure!”

“Think I’ll take the Bedstead out for a spin. You can watch him while he sits there and watches the lights blink.”