A Time for Patriots

“I think he’d be a great cadet,” Patrick said. “So. Are you guys done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I have a birthday surprise for my son, thanks to Uncle Jon here,” Patrick said. “Unfortunately your first scanner flight was canceled, but I have something else I think you’ll enjoy. Climb on out of that flight suit.” Eyes dancing in anticipation, Brad locked up the Cessna, put the keys away, then returned in a flash in civilian clothes.

“Drive us over to the hangar,” Patrick said, tossing him the keys to the Wrangler. Brad happily drove to the other side of the base, where the civilian aircraft were parked, the smile not leaving his face.

“Are we going flying, Dad?” Brad asked excitedly after parking beside Patrick’s hangar.

“We are,” Patrick said. “Dr. Masters owns the airspace around the base for his special project today, and he’s not using it for the next two hours, so he got us permission to use it. It won’t be a cross-country — we have to stay within thirty miles of the base — but you’ll be able to get some air work and some landings in.”

“Great!” Brad shouted. His smile dimmed a bit. “But… I can’t afford to fly the 210, even half. I’d be just as happy flying the 172.” Brad had been training for his pilot’s license in a rented Cessna 172 Skyhawk, saving money and doing odd jobs around town and the base to pay for fuel and flying time; Patrick was his flight instructor.

“That’s the second surprise,” Patrick said. “Dr. Masters is paying the tab for this flight. Happy birthday.”

“All right !” Brad cried. “Thank you, Uncle Jon!” Brad had to contain his excitement and, as his father had taught him, put his pilot’s brain in gear as he proceeded to unlock the hangar and get the turbine Cessna P21 °Centurion ready to fly.

Patrick had downsized his airplane from the twin-turbine-powered Aerostar to a single-engine airplane, but it was just as high-tech. Thanks to Jon Masters’s tinkering, this Cessna pressurized single-engine airplane had an advanced turboprop engine that propelled the plane at a top speed of more than three hundred miles an hour for over 1,500 nautical miles at altitudes up to twenty-five thousand feet. It was equipped with two wide-screen electronic flight displays, dual GPS navigators, a NextGen datalink for weather and traffic, side-stick controllers, single-lever engine control, and a host of other features and upgrades. Its advanced electronic ignition system allowed it to burn any kind of liquid fuel available, from automotive gasoline to the latest biofuel.

“I’m going to let you do everything,” Patrick said. “I want to see if you’ve gotten rusty. Take your time.”

“Yes, sir !” Patrick watched as Brad pulled the plane out of the hangar, drove the Jeep inside, and began a preflight.

The exterior preflight mostly consisted of draining the numerous fuel tanks and sumps to check for water or contamination, checking that the flight controls were free and clear, and checking for any signs of leaks or damage. When the walk-around was completed, Patrick climbed into the front passenger seat first, followed by Brad in the pilot’s seat, and he closed and dogged the entry door tight. The interior preflight was even easier: the computers mostly did everything, under Brad’s watchful eye. Engine start was stone-cold simple: turn on the battery switch, command the engine start on the touch-screen electronic controls, watch the engine displays, and watch for any hot-start anomalies that weren’t caught by the computer. Within minutes they were airborne.

“Three of the most dangerous stalls you can do,” Patrick said once they were at their operating altitude, “is an approach-to-landing stall, a departure stall, and a traffic-pattern or accelerated stall, so that’s what we’re going to practice first. Run through those for me.”

“Roger,” Brad said. “Clearing turn, coming left.” He performed a clearing turn left and right to check that the airspace around them was clear of other traffic, then said, “The approach-to-landing stall simulates stalling with the plane in landing configuration. Flaps ten, then the gear.” He lowered the first notch of flaps, then the landing gear. “As the airspeed decreases I’ll pitch up to landing attitude. Flaps twenty… flaps thirty. Power back, nose stays up…” A few moments later, the stall-warning horn sounded and they felt the first rumbles of disturbed air over the wings, the sign of an impending stall.

“Recover,” Patrick said just as it felt as if the plane was going to nose over. Brad released the back pressure on the side-stick controller and fed in full power. When the plane reached takeoff speed, he raised the landing gear and the first notch of flaps and waited until he had a positive rate of climb.

“Good job — minimal loss of altitude, nose straight, positive rate of climb,” Patrick said after Brad had completely recovered from the stall and reconfigured the plane. “Next: departure stall.”