Arctic Storm Rising by Dale Brown (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📗

he wasfamiliar with from his days as a Tu-95 and Tu-160 bomber pilot, the console in front of him had only two large multifunctiondisplays, which were currently blank, with a few gray buttons aligned below each screen. “Mater’ Bozh’ya!” he muttered to himself. “Mother of God! This thing looks more like a flying video game machine than a serious combat aircraft.”

Petrov noticed Bunin shoot him an amused, sidelong glance and shook his head slightly in warning. Mavrichev’s apparent unfamiliaritywith modern flight instrumentation wasn’t all that surprising. He had been flying a desk for years now. And even Russia’supgraded Tu-160M2 bombers were mostly built around technology that was sometimes more than three decades old, a far cry fromthe high-tech systems built into their PAK-DA prototype.

Ignoring their unwanted guest for the moment, they quickly powered up their own displays and initiated a series of automatedpreflight and mission readiness checklists. The next few minutes passed in a blur of activity as they double-checked the aircraft’scomputers at every step.

“Our fuel tank readouts show seventy-five thousand kilograms loaded,” Bunin reported, scanning his MFDs. “And we’ve got soliddata links to all weapons in the bays. Everything’s in the green.”

Petrov nodded. “Very good.” They were fully fueled, and all of their cruise missiles and air-to-air weapons were properlystowed and ready to receive targeting information from their attack computers. He checked his own display. “Our Ku-band targetingradar is on standby. All electronic countermeasures and other defensive systems are ready. Our secure satellite communicationssystem is operational. I show available connections to Rodnik and Meridian-M satellites.”

“Both engines look solid,” Bunin told him. “There are no compressor, fan, or turbine problems.”

“Copy that,” Petrov acknowledged. He looked left outside the cockpit window and saw their crew chief give him the high sign.“All ground personnel are at a safe distance.” He glanced back at Bunin. “We are go for engine start.”

“I confirm, go for engine start,” his copilot echoed.

Petrov pulled up a new menu on his display and tapped an icon. Two indicators flashed red and then turned green. “Ignition on both engines.” He adjusted his throttles forward a notch, bringing the two big turbofans to idle. Slowly at first and then faster, the two jet engines spooled up, their noise deepening from a shrill whine to a low, rumbling roar. Through the canopy, they could see the armored hangar doors rolling all the way open. Directly off to the west, the sun hung low on the horizon.

“Good power readings,” Bunin said, closely monitoring the readouts from both engines. “We’re set.”

“Let’s get this bird airborne,” Petrov agreed. He took a deep breath and keyed his mike. “Engels Tower, this is Ten’ Odin, Shadow One. We’re ready to roll.”

“Shadow One, Engels Tower, understood. You are cleared to taxi into position on runway two-two left,” the controller replied.

Petrov released the brakes and throttled up a little more. Slowly, the big blended-wing bomber moved out of the hangar andswung right onto the taxiway. Nearly four hundred meters farther on, it turned back to the left—perfectly positioned alongthe center line of the leftmost of the base’s two long runways. “Engels Tower, this is Shadow One,” he radioed. “In position,runway two-two left, ready for takeoff.”

“Shadow One, Tower,” he heard through his headset. “Winds light at two-one-six, cleared for takeoff on runway two-two left. Good hunting!”

“Shadow One cleared for takeoff,” Petrov acknowledged. He set the brakes again and throttled up, running the bomber’s twinengines all the way up to full military power. The rumbling roar outside the cockpit built in intensity.

“Compressors look good. Temperatures are good,” Bunin reported from beside him.

Petrov nodded. “Copy that.” He released the brakes. “Rolling.”

Unshackled from artificial constraints, the PAK-DA almost leaped ahead, accelerating fast down the runway. Off to their rightside, the long line of stationary Tu-160s blurred together into a continuous stream of bright white aircraft sliding pasttheir speeding plane.

Less than halfway down the runway, Petrov saw the Vr symbol blink onto his heads-up display. They were now moving fast enough to take off safely. Gently, he pulled back on thestick. “Rotating.”

Instantly, the bomber’s nose came up. It soared off the tarmac and climbed rapidly into the air. Hydraulics whined below theirfeet as the landing gear whirred up and locked into position.

Petrov risked a quick glance over his shoulder at Mavrichev. The general sat transfixed in amazement, with his mouth slightlyagape. And no wonder, the colonel thought with an inward laugh. Thanks to its advanced control surfaces and design, the PAK-DAprototype required considerably less runway than Russia’s older Tu-160 bombers. Its takeoff performance was closer to thatof a high-powered fighter than to a heavily loaded bomber.

Still climbing, the stealth bomber crossed the Volga and then banked hard right to turn back to the east as it flew over thecity of Saratov. For a few moments, its oddly shaped wing was lit from behind by the last rays of the setting sun and thenit vanished—swallowed up by the swiftly gathering dusk.

Fifteen

Over the Yenisei River, Central Russia

Three Hours Later

Five thousand meters above a pitch-black landscape of primeval forests and a wide river that wound north toward the distantArctic Ocean, four aircraft flew onward beneath the vast dome of a star-speckled sky. Green, red, and white navigation lightsmarked the relative positions of the PAK-DA bomber prototype, a four-engine Ilyushin IL-78M-90A refueling tanker, and thetwo Su-57 stealth fighters assigned to escort the tanker to this midair rendezvous.

Unhurriedly, with painstaking effort, Colonel Alexei Petrov maneuvered into position behind the humpbacked tanker aircraft.Small bright lights outlined the drogue basket streaming behind the IL-78. He’d locked the basket into the bomber’s sophisticatedIR targeting system. Steering, speed, and range indicators glowed across his HUD. They changed constantly as he closed in,making infinitesimally small adjustments to his stick and throttles.

Minutes earlier, he had extended their refueling probe from its normal, stowed position inside a compartment along the right side of the PAK-DA’s nose. Now, it was just a question of mating the probe with the drogue basket as it wobbled and danced in the big Ilyushin’s