Beale Air Force Base, Marysville, California

 

There were three partitions inside the long building that housed the mission control center for the 12th Reconnaissance Squadron. Each compartment was called a cockpit but they looked more like standard work station cubicles found in typical corporate office suites. The air inside the structure was dehumidified and air-conditioned to protect the sophisticated electronic equipment while the lighting was color-corrected and kept intentionally dimmed to avoid glare on the LED screens that seemed to be everywhere either streaming video or scrolling data.

The Air Force brigadier general who commanded the reconnaissance group at Beale pointed to the right-hand cubicle and steered Bayer in that direction. “That’s your mission, designated Hawk Three Zulu. Captain Dee Kulacz is flying right now. She’s one of our most-experienced RQ-4 sticks. We usually have a camera operator and an analyst on crew for Global Hawk missions, but we’ve eliminated those slots per your instructions.”

Bayer peered over the cubicle wall and saw a petite woman with broad shoulders and cropped brown hair wearing a headset, staring intently at a large flat-screen display and using her left hand to gently manipulate a set of controls that looked something like a high-tech videogame console. She was dressed in a tailored flight suit and seated in a chair that looked like it might have been lifted from an F-15—minus the restraints and ejection gear.

“We try to make it look and feel as much like a standard aircraft cockpit as we can.” The brigadier handed Bayer a headset and helped him adjust the lip microphone. “We want our pilots to feel like they are flying a real world mission and not playing videogames.”

“Where is the bird right now?” Bayer peered at the screen over the pilot’s shoulder but all he could see was an expanse of water showing whitecaps and what he thought might be a school of dolphins. The brigadier turned to check a repeater console and stabbed at the attached keyboard.

“Hawk Three Zulu departed Andersen on Guam thirty-six minutes ago with a full fuel load. While the bird was on the ground the mission techs installed the requested package for you. It’s carrying the synthetic aperture radar array and transmitting real-time images and data via satellite link. What you’re seeing on the screen is what the bird is seeing on look-down mode. Captain Kulacz can direct the view from directly below the flight path to out along the horizon in any direction just by manipulating the controls on her console.”

“Can I talk to Captain Kulacz?” Bayer fumbled with a button on his headset cord. The brigadier keyed his own mike and nodded at the pilot. “How ya doin’, Dee?”

“Level at two-four thousand and just under 300 knots indicated, sir.” She raised her right hand showing an extended thumb but never took her eyes off the console which displayed aircraft status, heading and position data via boxes inset on the screen. “Just ran the diagnostics and all systems are on line.”

“Captain, this is Bob Bayer, director of the NCTC.” Kulacz glanced over her shoulder and smiled briefly before returning her attention to the displays. “This is our mission you’re flying.”

“Yes, sir, I got the full brief yesterday morning before we launched. We’re tracking and on course for the Palaus. We got the up-check from the Independence an hour ago and the down-link is established. They’re seeing what we’re seeing in real time.”

“So, you got the material from the National Reconnaissance Office?”

“It came through early this morning, sir.” Capt. Kulacz tapped an adjacent screen and a full-color picture of the Al Calipha moored in a very pricey slip at Dubai popped into view. “This is what we’re looking for, right? I’ve uploaded a high-res image into the bird’s onboard computers. The radars are doing regular panoramic sweeps out to return limits looking for anything that matches the profile.”

Bayer pulled a leather-bound notebook from his pocket and scanned a page. “Can you pull up a map of the area?”

Kulacz tapped her right-hand screen again and the Al Calipha disappeared to be replaced by a map of the Palau Islands. She expanded the view until a tiny diamond appeared to the right of the islands. “That’s us,” she said pointing to the tracking icon, “about one hundred eighty-five nautical miles due east of the target area. My flight profile calls for a northerly course correction in about twenty minutes and then set up an orbit over the area.”

“I’ve talked to the people out on the Independence.” Bayer reached over the pilot’s shoulder and indicated the southern portion of the island group. “They think we’d have better luck concentrating here to the south around these two islands.”

“Well, that’s helpful, sir. If we can tighten the search area, I can fly lower and get us a better look once we find the target.”

“Let’s do that, captain. Forget about the northern area. Just set up your search orbit and focus on the waters surrounding Peleliu and Angaur.”

“Copy all, sir. We should be orbiting that area in just about an hour from now.”